by S I Taylor
He left the A/C running on blast, since it was hot outside and the car’s dark tinted windows were not cooling the car enough to his liking. He decided to fiddle with his cell phone for a while. He opened the solitaire app and began piling the mini red cards to the mini black cards, shuffling the small deck until his eyes darted up to look at a skinny old man wobble past his car. He sighed and went back to the game, whistling as he piled mini cards on top of the other until the screen was filled and he couldn’t make any further moves. He got bored primarily because he couldn’t focus on the game and decided that the radio was a better option. McKinley swiped the screen off and placed the phone in the cup holder. He turned the radio on but the station Barbara last listened to was not a station in Huntersville so he turned to several stations, skipping over infomercials, news, gossip comments about the latest celebrities, and someone trying to convince him that today was the day the Messiah was coming. But nothing piqued his interest, primarily because he wasn’t used to the radio stations in Huntersville and secondly because he enjoyed soft rock—the classics as opposed to the fast-paced sounds on the market.
He heard a commotion between two men in a white car and the man in the corner. McKinley’s hand went to unholster his gun and the other on the door’s handle. He slowly pulled the handle and opened the door. Sirens blared behind him and the two men in the white car sped away as the one standing ran in the opposite direction. “That was close.” He relaxed a little, closed the door, and resumed scanning the area.
He looked at his watch. Only five minutes had lapsed, but it felt like an eternity just sitting there waiting. It reminded him of the many times he, Coolidge, and Bush would do undercover jobs, waiting for a suspect to either arrive or leave. Oftentimes their cases involved arresting suspects rather than just following them around. The waiting was part of the job. It was the focus of the job, actually. A good agent never rushed into anything or concluded anything without evidence. To him being an agent was the same as waiting. But this was different since he’d let the suspect go and he was watching out for her return—if she were to return.
He saw no movement from the shop and he was not liking that he had to wait without any communication. “Dammit, I should’ve gone inside.”
He was beginning to grow impatient. He looked at his watch again; seven minutes had gone by and still no sign of Wolf. “What the fuck is going on?” he said. “What is taking her so long?” He peered through the window, squinting to try to see if there was a figure approaching, but the only people around were not the same body shape or height as Wolf.
His patience was wearing thin. If something happened to Wolf under his watch, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. And although he was used to the waiting, this was a different circumstance. She was the suspect and he couldn’t believe that he’d made a deal with the prime suspect of a murder case—the murder case he was working on—to try to appease her and gain her trust to get her to testify. “Fuck. What have I done?”
He took the car off park and sped down the street toward where he’d seen Wolf enter the shop and parked his car out front. He hurriedly exited the vehicle and slammed the door shut. He peered through the window, but the lights were off and only shadows of objects were visible through the blinds. This alarmed him since supposedly Wolf had entered this shop.
He unholstered his Glock. The sign on the door read “Closed” but it was unlocked so he entered anyway, holding the gun high, guiding his view. He walked slowly and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. He looked around and saw it was the typical auto shop setup with the familiar oil and paint stench. He continued to walk further into the shop.
He walked into the garage area and saw two vehicles parked there. Judging from their position and the locked garage door, there was only one way in and out for these vehicles so no one had entered or left through there. Otherwise, he would have noticed, since the garage door faced the main road. He retreated to the small lobby and entered the office space where a desk, a computer, printer, and other office essentials were laid out. Considering the messy shop out front, the office space was fairly neat and organized.
There was another door behind the desk and he cautiously walked toward it. Turning the knob slowly and gripping his gun tight, he leaned toward the wall, reached for the knob with trembling hands, not knowing what lay behind that door, and turned the knob.
Click.
He was faced with resistance.
Click.
McKinley turned it again and realized that the door was locked. Fuck! He kicked the door. He pointed his gun at the doorknob as he took a step back. Barbara was missing and he needed to see what was behind that door. McKinley’s grip was steady on the handle and his finger curled around the trigger. He thought twice, maybe even three times, of shooting the doorknob but he relaxed his finger and removed it from the trigger. That would have caused too much attention and he did not want to explain why he had broken into private property without a warrant. There must be another entrance or a key around here somewhere. He went back to the desk, moving papers, files, and books around only to come up short on anything resembling a key.
He thought the worst. Either Wolf had left or she lay dead behind that door. He had no time to think and decided that he needed to get to whatever was behind that door.
He slammed his broad shoulder several times against the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The locking mechanism was strong. His shoulder was sore, but he needed to open that door. He took three steps back, rushed toward the door, rattling the lock and then…
Bam.
The door swung open.
The door led to a home in the far distance and to his right a private driveway without any cars parked, but the automatic gate was open. It seemed odd to him that they would leave this gate open and not the door to the shop.
Then suddenly loud sounds of tires screeching got his attention as a minivan sped down the street. He rushed toward the gate and peered outside, only to see the minivan make a left and disappear.
He didn’t have much time to think if he should continue toward the house or not, but he had a good inkling that the car that just sped off and Wolf’s absence were related.
He raced back toward the office, slipped on the oil spilled on the floor, and slammed face first onto the floor. “Damn it. Just my luck.” He gathered himself and noticed that he’d busted his lip and now it was cracked and bleeding and covered in motor oil.
He got up and rushed toward his car parked outside and before he got his car into gear he dialed Coolidge.
“Hey, Coolidge.”
“Dude, what’s up?”
“We have a situation.”
He hurriedly jammed the key in the ignition and raced down the street toward where he saw the minivan. He tried to follow the same path, but he was too unfamiliar with this town to keep up with the many one-way streets, terrible road construction, and back roads.
“What is going on, McKinley?”
“I lost her.”
“You mean lost her as in you let her out of your sight temporarily? Or what?”
“I mean as in ‘she got away’ type of lost her.”
“How? You’ve never lost sight of any suspects. If I didn’t know you, I would believe you. But I know you’re not telling me the entire story. This is bullshit and you know it. Tell me what really happened.”
Coolidge’s voice was harsh and stern, but McKinley could understand and sympathize with her. She didn’t like mistakes, especially when it could’ve been avoided.
He proceeded to tell her everything and although she didn’t judge him the ping of disappointment in her silence was enough to make him feel worse than before.
“Look, McKinley, I’m not one to judge and even though you fucked up we can fix it. We know where she lives and who she came looking for, so all we have to do is go back to her house and find out more information. We can poke around in the garage for this Iggy guy and pressure him into telling us something. We got
this. You’re my partner and we’re in this together.”
Her reassurance was exactly what McKinley needed to get out of his rut. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was, but he was lost. He parked the car on the side of the road and slammed his hand onto the steering wheel in frustration. He was slamming a lot of steering wheels, he thought, and his hands would eventually be either broken or super-strong.
“Thanks. I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought… well, that’s not important right now. We need to find her before this shit gets more out of hand.”
“Talking about out of hand, you’re not going to believe what we found out about the blood in the secret passageway of the warehouse,” Coolidge said.
Chapter 41
Barbara made sure that Iggy left the house before she did, and they went in opposite directions. She felt terrible for lying to McKinley, but she didn’t want him to know too soon what she was really doing for “work.”
She backed out of the driveway and sped off, tires screeching loud, startling her in the process. Moments later, she saw McKinley from the rearview mirror, but he was far enough that she could get away through these streets. Since he didn’t know much about this part of town, or Huntersville for that matter, she had an advantage.
That GPS that he used will not get him effortlessly through these grungy roads, she thought.
No matter how bad she felt, she needed to get away from him. She was frantically driving though the busy streets, but was careful not to cause too much attention to herself. She maneuvered through the afternoon traffic in Iggy’s minivan toward Nixon’s apartment.
She looked at her watch. The meeting with Iggy’s contact would have been later that night, which gave her ample time to get to Nixon’s place and come up with something to come out clean in this situation.
She could get out of town with the money she was given up front, but she was committed to correct what she did. Well, sort of correct, because she couldn’t bring life back to the dead. She’d killed Junior and stolen from his father. Whatever she needed to do to mend what she’d broken needed to be done fast and it had better be worth more than Junior’s life.
She parked the minivan out front on the curb a block away from the apartment. Downtown was rather busy today. She got out of the car and briskly walked or rather wobbled around the patrons, who were too focused on going about their busy lives to pay attention to her. She found herself reminiscing about being that innocent young teen where going to nursing school and studying for finals were the only worries she had.
That girl was long dead and buried, although she’d never regretted it—in a way, she’d embraced her new self. She didn’t know anything else other than to hustle to get by, to get through the next day, and to the next meal. She considered herself a survivor even though she had to steal, scam, and do some things she wasn’t too fond of. But that was who she was and that was who the world saw every day. The old Barbara was a façade. She had come to terms with that now.
The short walk to the apartment had her thinking and thinking was not good. It made her vulnerable. It made her question herself and that was not an option in her lifestyle. She pushed all those nonsense feelings aside and entered Nixon’s building and walked toward the elevator, pushing the button for the eighth floor. She reached the door and eagerly knocked.
The deadbolts turned quickly and with two clicks the door was swung open and Nixon, stood there, looking surprised to see her. He rushed to her and brought her inside, holding her in his arms, checking her, making sure she was in one piece.
“Barbara, I was so worried,” he said as he closed the door, took her hand, and walked her to the kitchen.
“I’m fine for the most part but I have a lot to tell you.” She proceeded to tell him in more detail about the chase, her stay at the cabin with McKinley, and the final encounter with Iggy.
She reached in her backpack and removed the two boxes, revealing their contents.
Nixon’s eyes went wide and sparkled. He reached for the jewels and inspected them. “These are gorgeous, Barbara. Are these the drugs?” he said, picking a pill up and looking closely at it.
She furrowed her brow in confusion. “How did you know?” She looked at him and he seemed nervous but his voice was calm.
“It’s obvious those are drugs, it doesn’t take a genius to know that. Besides, you told me we were stealing from a Trivaldi so I figured they were drugs.”
She nodded slowly. She trusted him and since he was a quick thinker she continued without thinking too much about it. “Yes, these small packets are illegal drugs. These must be something new they are trying to bring to the streets. I’m sure they are worth way more than our share of the money combined,” she said, looking into the box and then looking at him. She sat on the kitchen barstool.
Nixon nodded in agreement. “We can get out of here with the money that we have and live happy once we deliver these boxes.” He approached her as she sat on the stool, slipped his body between her legs, and reached for her. He caressed her features, ran his hands through her hair and down her neck. Bringing her close to him, he hovered his lips onto hers.
“Nixon, we can’t,” she whispered, diverting his touch from her and moving her face away.
He breathed heavily, panting. “Why?” He searched for answers, looking at her.
“This isn’t the right time. I don’t want to confuse our work relationship and complicate us any further. You saw how difficult this lifestyle is and having a family is dangerous. They—whoever is after me—could prey on that and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anything happened to you,” she said softly. She was genuine about it but she also had strong feelings for McKinley but she couldn’t tell him that.
“But I am… never mind. You’re right. I won’t bring us up anymore,” he said.
She sensed something odd was surrounding them, particularly with him. She felt as if he was making a last attempt at them for some strange reason. But she was relieved that he created distance between them as she looked away, not meeting him eye to eye. He walked over to the kitchen and retrieved two cups, clearly trying to make light of the situation. “I know you had a long day. Some water would do you good.”
“Yes, water sounds like a good idea right now.” She took the boxes, closed them, and placed them back in the backpack.
He handed her the cup and began to sip the refreshing water. The water leaving a cool sensation as it traveled down her throat. She hadn’t noticed how much she needed the drink until now.
“So, what are we going to do?” he said, standing across the kitchen counter, afraid if he got closer he’d forget what was just said and just make love to her right there. He knew she was trying to suppress her feelings and that made him slightly upset.
“I need another favor from you. But this time it doesn’t involve any other dangerous job,” she reassured him, adjusting herself on the stool.
“Okay, but I told you that this was going to be our last job.”
“I know. It’s not a job. It’s a personal favor. Agent McKinley mentioned that there should be security cameras inside the warehouse, but they can’t find them. I know with your computer expertise you can get into any database. Can you somehow tap into the warehouse camera?” she asked.
She needed to know what had really happened inside the warehouse. The images of the bodies had startled her, and she couldn’t remember what she’d done.
“Depends if they have one and if they have a fancy firewall system in place. I just need some sort of way to get in there and I can find out,” he added.
“I was able to get this from Agent McKinley when he wasn’t looking, and it seems like it can help.” She handed him a few numbers. but nothing that Nixon could use to get inside the warehouse’s database.
“I’m afraid this isn’t going to work. But maybe I could do some searching and see what I can do. Did you recall the name of the camera that was outside of the warehouse?”
“I remember what it looked like. Maybe you can pinpoint the name that way. It was an older model camera, maybe gray or a dark color. It was mounted onto the ceiling.”
“Did it swivel when you moved or was it stationary?”
“It was stationary. It had a diamond logo on the side, now that I think about the pictures I saw of the outside of the facility and a close-up of the camera and its angle.”
He walked over to his office and she followed. “The only company with that logo is the Diamond Tech Security System and their equipment as well as their software is not that difficult to hack.”
He closed the blinds and sat in front of his computer and started typing. After several minutes—“I think I got something.”
She gasped and her breathing quickened. Her blood drained from her body and she suddenly felt hot and the overwhelming feeling of anxiety took over. She looked at Nixon and reluctantly walked over to him.
She was afraid of what she might see, what she might feel, and if that rage would resurface when she saw the footage. Nixon got up from his seat and she sat.
They exchanged a quick glance and he pressed play on the monitor.
Before Barbara had a chance to look at the video she collapsed onto the floor.
Nixon shook her and called out. “Barbara.” But she didn’t answer.
Panicking, he gathered Barbara in his arms and managed to carry her out of the apartment.
The hallways seemed like an eternal passageway as Nixon ran to the elevators.
“Barbara, wake up.” He begged. But she laid in his arms limp. He reached the elevator as Joey the security guard was making his rounds.
“What happened? Is she all right?” Joey said.
“I don’t know, she fainted I’m taking her to the hospital. Help me to my car downstairs.” Small beads of sweat dropplets dripped from Nixon’s worried face.