Night Moves (G-Man Series)

by ANDREA SMITH

  Lindsey and I were sitting in the back of a cab in front of a fountain somewhere in mid-town Manhattan. It was Sunday and we'd survived the night. I hadn't slept well after the dance and conversation I'd had with Easton. I'd insisted on leaving right after that. Lindsey hadn't argued but Lacee had been nosey as hell, asking if I felt alright and if Easton had done anything to upset me.

  I told Lindsey about it once we got back to our hotel. She'd told me she was proud of my strength, but then asked me if I was sure I meant what I'd told him. I told her "no" because I wasn't sure. In fact, I was fairly certain it'd been a lie.

  I wasn't about to lie to my best friend.

  It was my turn to tell her before bed that I didn't want to talk about it anymore. She'd given me a heavy sigh, and I could see her shaking her head in my peripheral vision. I heard her on her super secret cell phone later making arrangements to meet Louise on Sunday to give her the money and get the letter from her father. She told her she had some pictures for her of the baby, too. There was no way in hell I was letting her go by herself.

  Another cab pulled up in front of ours. We watched as an older woman, most likely in her mid-sixties got out and paid the driver. She was average height and build, her clothing was non-descript, definitely not showing signs of wealth, but not poor either.

  "That's Louise," Lindsey said, all smiles, paying the driver.

  We got out and immediately Lindsey waved to Louise. The woman came over, giving Lindsey a hug and me the hairy eyeball. Lindsey broke away and introduced me as her best friend in the world.

  I smiled and shook Louise's hands noticing she didn't have much warmth to her. Lindsey had said she was meeting us here because she lived in the Bronx and it was a good distance. She said she knew of a quaint coffee shop nearby where they could "catch-up". I so wanted to point out to Lindsey that 'catching-up' was a term used between people that are already friends or have an established relationship. I didn't think this qualified.

  We walked the half-block to the coffee shop, finding a table near the window. I knew Lindsey wanted some privacy while she turned the cash over to Louise, so I made it a point to excuse myself to go to the restroom as she'd instructed me to do before we'd left the hotel.

  I returned five minutes later, getting a nod of approval from Lindsey and seeing a cup of coffee at my place. I sat down feeling sort've out of place in this family moment. Maybe I'd made too much of an issue out of it. It was likely that as a result of the whole ordeal with Easton some of his "genuine mistrust of all man-kind" had worn off on me.

  Lindsey was busy sharing photos of the baby with Louise who was giving her the obligatory "oohs and aah's" that any proud grandma would. I sipped my decaf, watching the traffic outside the coffee shop and noticing after ten minutes or so had gone by that a dark blue panel van had driven by three times since I'd returned to the table. It might not have come to my attention since this was New York City after all, and there were likely hundreds if not thousands older model panel vans in dark blue around, but the fact that the passenger door was caved in made it stand out. I was getting a feeling of uneasiness after it went by a fourth time and Louise looked at her watch right afterwards.

  "Lindsey, I'm afraid I've got to get going. My ride's going to be here in just a couple of minutes and if I'm not out there waiting, she'll probably go back to the Bronx without me," she chuckled. "Norma comes to mid-town every Sunday to visit her mother who's not well. She agreed to swing by here, so that I didn't have to pay cab fare back, honey."

  "No," Lindsey said, smiling, "it's okay, Grandma." She left a $20 bill on the table, standing up to put her jacket on. "When will we talk again?" she asked.

  "Soon, honey. I'm so appreciative of you giving me this money, though you know I didn't ask you to do that."

  "I know, Grandma. I just don't think that it's right for you to deplete your life savings on account of . . . Daddy. I mean, can't you talk him into turning himself in? I can't imagine how his life must be always . . . I don't know - looking over his shoulder?"

  "I've tried, I really have," she said with a sigh. "He always had a mind of his own. Even as a child he always had to be in control. I guess he got that from his daddy."

  We walked out of the coffee shop and Louise looked up and down the street for her friend, Norma. Just then the dark blue panel van slowed, and pulled into the tiny parking lot next to the coffee shop.

  "There's Norma," she said with a smile. "Come meet her. She's my best friend just like Darcy here is yours."

  Don’t even think about it, Lindsey —

  "Sure," I heard my trusting and naïve best friend say, holding on to Louise's arm as they trudged to the alley that ran alongside the building and led to a small, obscure parking lot.

  I followed behind because there was no way I'd let my best friend get anywhere near danger without having her back. Lindsey and Louise walked over to the driver's side door which faced the back of the building with me right there with them.

  "Norma?" I heard Louise say, wrapping her arm around Lindsey's shoulder as they walked up to it. "Norma, I want you to meet my . . ."

  The door to the van opened and I watched as if it was playing out in slow motion the look of surprise that engulfed Lindsey's face.

  "Daddy," she shrieked, as the man stepped down, holding a Glock in one hand, and tossing a set of keys to his mother with the other one.

  "Quiet, Lindsey," he warned. "Just get in the back. We'll talk once we’re out of here. You too," he said, nodding towards me.

  Who me? Naw - dude I'd really, really rather not…

  He watched with his presumably loaded gun pointing towards us as Louise opened the side panel door waiting for Lindsey and me to climb in before she shut and locked it. I noticed it couldn't be opened from the inside. The door lever had been taken off.

  Fuck. .

  ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

  I seriously hadn't thought I'd find myself hog-tied and gagged once things had ended with Easton and me. Given the fact that this time there wasn't a clean, soft mattress underneath me, but instead a dirty, rodent-dropping infested concrete one did little to conjure up more pleasant memories.

  It was probably my own fault, running my mouth the way I had in the van after I'd been told to keep it shut more than once. I finally got the message when Lindsey's dad pressed the barrel of his weapon into my back once we'd reached this deserted warehouse and parked inside.

  Lindsey was of course, trying to plead and reason with the son-of-a-bitch, but that wasn't working. Apparently dude inherited his sociopathic personality from his maternal side, despite what she'd said earlier about his need to control coming from his father.

  Yeah . . . right.

  Grandma Louise was holding the gun now, making sure that Lindsey (who was not tied up or gagged) stayed put in the chair she was provided. Daddy-dearest was counting the cash not only the wad that Lindsey had given his mother, but what he'd taken out of our purses once we'd arrived here. Fuck! I'd brought over fifteen hundred dollars in cash with me to shop since my one and only credit card was at its limit. He'd scarfed another six hundred from Lindsey, plus her wedding set, the fucking rat bastard. I'd given him my jewelry without hesitation. He wasn't going to get all that much out of it.

  Louise had removed the batteries from both of our phones and tossed them into a trash can before we'd left the lot. No tracking technology for this heist.

  "Daddy," Lindsey said once again, "how could you do this to me? I'm your own daughter for Chrissake? I can't believe this . . ."

  That was probably the tenth time she'd asked him that since we arrived here and I'd been forced to stop yapping with the scarf that was being used as a gag.

  "Listen," he said, his voice carrying the desperation he must be feeling. "Do you think I wanted to? Do you think if there was any other way possible for me to get out of the country without involving you I wouldn't have grabbed it? Honey, it's about surviving and without this money and my mother's help, I'd be de
ad in a week. There are more people after me than the authorities . . . people that are more threatening to me than the authorities. I have no choice. This money will buy my way out of the U.S."

  "And then what?" she asked, now getting a bit louder. "What will you live on once you get where you're going? What kind of life are you going to have?"

  He gave her a sardonic smile. "One where I'm free to pursue other money-making interests without drug lords, thugs or the Feds breathing down my neck. Yeah, I made some mistakes, Lindsey, but I can't undo them now. And I won't go to prison. I'd never survive inside considering who I've sold down the river in order to survive this past year and a half. I wish there was another way, sweetheart."

  "Don't call me that!" she hissed. "I'm ashamed of you and the fact that you're my father. Most of all, I'm sorry that I ever loved you." She buried her face in her hands, the sobs coming full force.

  "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, Lindsey, but after tonight, you'll never have to lay eyes on me again." He turned to his mother, instructing her to keep the gun on us until he returned. She nodded, handing him a key.

  "It's locker 247," she said. "Tell your contact that it's right down from the south entrance. He nodded and took off, telling her he'd be back before dark. He pulled his dark hoodie up around his face. I wasn't sure what he'd looked like before, but with a full beard and mustache, a knit hat covering his hair, he looked like someone that had been living on the street for a while.

  "Grandma," I heard Lindsey implore, "can you at least untie Darcy so she can sit in a chair? She's pregnant."

  "No," Louise snapped. "She doesn't know when to keep her fuckin' mouth shut. I don't need the aggravation."

  "What are Daddy's plans for us?" she asked, timidly.

  "You'll know soon enough," she said. "Now you keep quiet or I'll find a gag for you too, girl."

  I closed my eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, I prayed and meant it.

  ~ Easton ~

  It was after six in the evening when I finally pulled myself up and out of bed for a shower. I'd definitely imbibed too much at the reception. I'd consumed even more when I returned to my loft afterwards. I should've known by now it never did any good trying to drown my thoughts and feelings about Darcy with alcohol. There was nothing that could take her words out of my head. Yet I couldn't blame her one bit.

  I checked my mobile once I was out of the shower and dressed. Just more missed calls from my non-related brother, Taz. He'd called several times leaving messages over the past couple of months that I hadn't bothered to return. What was the point? We'd never been close and now there was no reason to even try. I deleted the voice messages without evening listening to them.

  I ran my hands through my still-damp hair, trying to figure out if I should even attempt to salvage what was left of Sunday. I sat on the sofa, and pulled my laptop over to check emails. There was one that had come in from Dobbs about eight this morning. It was a reply to mine that I'd evidently sent to him at four-thirty this morning (while clearly under the influence) instructing him to de-activate the Night Moves chip that had been embedded in "Farcy's" clit ring.

  Bloody Christ - my inebriated fingers couldn’t even get her name spelled correctly. Drink much, Easy-E?

  Oh, hell. That's what she used to call me when she was being playful . . . or maybe when she was just being a pain . . . either way, I'd loved it.

  Dobb's wanted clarification from me that I'd been referring to Darcy, not someone else named 'Farcy' . . . Seriously, Ryan? And he wondered if I also wanted the navel piercing de-activated if in fact I had meant 'Darcy.' I must've forgotten about that one in my drunken stupor.

  He'd sent another e-mail at two-thirty this afternoon, clarifying that he'd taken it upon himself to presume I'd meant "Darcy" and had de-activated the chip in the clit jewelry and now awaited instructions from me before de-activating the matching jewelry for her naval.

  How anal is he?

  I hit the reply button and started typing my instruction for him to stop being so fucking anal and just get it done, but the loud pounding on the door to my loft interrupted me mid-sentence.

  "Bloody hell," I shouted, getting to my feet to see who the hell was pounding the fuck out of my door. Where the hell was the doorman, anyway?

  I opened the door, and my former brother stepped through it as if he was being inconvenienced by the interruption.

  "Don't you fucking return calls, ass-hat?" he asked, pointing his finger at me, his eyes definitely showing some flashing rage.

  "If I feel there's something to talk about, Trace," I replied. "Thing is, mate, we've no blood between us so really, what's the --"

  "Shut the fuck up, Easton," he snarled. "I'm not here about that right now. I'm here about my wife. She's missing and it seems that you were the last one to see her and Darcy last night before they left for their hotel. I got that information from your former fuck-buddy, Lacee."

  "I see," I replied, with a smirk. "The same Lacee that most likely provided you with my address here?"

  "I work for the bureau, bro. I can get this information whenever I want it."

  "Touché," I replied, closing the front door and turning back to face him. "Have you asked Darcy where your wife might be hiding?"

  "She's missing as well," he growled, fisting his hands at his side.

  "Taz, I haven't seen either one of them since last night. They're certainly not here, but you're free to check. No search warrant required," I added.

  He looked around as if he was contemplating doing just that as if I would've lied about it. He was rattled. I needed to stop antagonizing him at the moment.

  "What about their mobiles? Do you have the means of tracking Lindsey?"

  "I've called both of their phones and they're shut off, or the batteries have been removed."

  "What are you doing in New York, anyway?" I asked. "Did you just get in?"

  "No," he said, impatiently. "If you'd have listened to any of my messages you'd have known we've been working a case in the area for the past month or more. I was supposed to stop by the hotel to visit Lindsey this afternoon and she wasn't in. The staff said they hadn't seen either one of them all day," he shrugged, "I guess I thought maybe Lindsey had come along with Darcy to visit you . . . I mean, I know you and she were . . . involved at some point."

  Taz was clearly rattled. For a senior agent to be rattled like that told me there was definitely something very wrong here. I grabbed my mobile and called Dobbs.

  "Ryan," I nearly shouted when he answered, "Do not deactivate the other chip Darcy's wearing. Do you understand?"

  "Sure. No problem, Easton. I didn't intend to until I'd received further clarification."

  Thank God he's so fucking anal.

  "We may be in luck," I told Trace, pulling up the Night Moves program. "If they're together and if Darcy's still wearing her bellybutton stud, we're in luck."

  Taz didn't even question the correlation as he stood behind me and watched as I pulled up the coordinates, quickly transforming them into a street address, and then pulling up the real-time stream of the building which showed the front entrance. And a huge, building it was.

  "What the fuck," he commented, looking at it closely. "It looks like an abandoned warehouse." Taz was immediately plugging the info into his hand-held GPS, pulling up a map and directions, which of course, I had already at my fingertips with this newly developed track-ware.

  "It's in Washington Heights," he said, "Right across from Mullaly Park." He pulled his mobile up to make a call. "Slate," he said into his mobile. "I've got an address where Lindsey might be . . . and Darcy."

  Just then as we both watched the live stream, a dark, panel van pulled up onto the sidewalk in front of the building. Someone jumped out, and headed up to where an overhead door was located just down from the main entrance. Whoever it was, pressed a button next to the door to raise it, turned and started back toward the van.

  "Holy fuck," Taz said. "Can you freeze-frame
that, Easton? Or maybe save the feed somehow?"

  "Of course," I replied, hitting the menu to do both. "Done."

  He went back to his conversation, his voice exuding emotion. "Slate, I can't be sure, man, but I'm going to send you this video feed. You'll know better than me, but I think it's the rat bastard."

  This can't possibly be a good thing.

  Something was definitely going on outside. I wasn't sure how long we'd been in this hell hole. All I knew was that I couldn't feel my left side anymore. It was the side my weight was resting on against the cold, dirty concrete. The rats weren't even all that shy in this building now that it had started to get dark outside. Which was just awesome, said no one ever.

  Lindsey's father had returned with a satchel and a newly purchased pre-paid phone. He'd been on it most of the time, arranging for a drop somewhere tonight at ten-thirty to pick up the weapons. God only knew what kind of weapons he was dealing in. Lindsey had come over and put her jacket under my head for comfort, sitting beside me instead of in the chair she'd been provided.

  'Geez-Louise' continually watched us, making sure we both saw the Glock being held steady in her hand. I'd no doubt in my mind she'd use it just as easily on Lindsey as she would on me. There had to be something in this for her. I doubted very much if she was doing this out of love for her son. A thunder storm was rolling in - yeah, I know. Just what I needed to make this horror story perfect, right?

  Lindsey was patting my arm every time the crack of thunder sounded outside and I jumped. As much as anyone who's been hog-tied can jump, that is. She was trying to soothe me when in reality I truly believe she was more frightened than me. She didn't know just how far her father would go to save his own, ruthless hide.

  Jack Dennison's current call was cut short when the blaring sounds of sirens could be heard over the thunder and rain pelting against the building, screeching to a halt outside. When soon after the sound of a helicopter could be heard over-head it sealed the deal as far as I was concerned.

  Yes! The cavalry is here!