by J. D. Sloane
“Christ, Alicia. Are you all right? I tried to call you. I even stopped by Matt’s apartment to warn you.”
Alicia paled as she shifted her shoulders and leaned her hands on the desk, turning her head to look at him as Lance glanced at the floor.
“Is this all him?”
“Is it true they’re running it? My story?”
“It’s the station’s story, Alicia. Matt can assign it to anyone he wants. Even if it does make him a sanctimonious prick.”
“And he’s giving it to Piper?”
“That’s what I heard. Which is about as good as guaranteeing that it won’t be worth shit when it’s through.”
“It’ll be the biggest story this year and you know it,” Alicia said, her voice low and flat. She glanced down at her untouched coffee, trying to get a hold of her raging panic and then took a deep breath and stood up as she reached for her phone.
“I didn’t do it, you know,” she said, scrolling through numbers blindly for a moment. “I didn’t tell Ronan to go after him.”
“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had. Seems like he had it coming, if you ask me.”
Alicia found Emilio’s number and ran her tongue over her lips, dropping her hands as she noticed they were shaking.
“And you were right. About the prison. About everything. This isn’t the first time Dula’s done this. This story about Ronan is just the beginning. This shit could be like the fucking Flint River crisis. All it takes is someone who’s willing to say it out loud.”
Lance darted his eyes towards her, his face suddenly on high alert.
“Do you mean like actual proof or is that just gut instinct talking?”
“I saw it, Lance,” Alicia said rushing past him as she dialed out quickly. “I was there. He’s doing experiments on an entire wing of inmates.”
“Are you serious? What kind of experiments? Why hasn’t anyone heard about this?”
“I don’t know,” Alicia said typing into her phone. “But I have a feeling some pretty important people know about it already. And they’re jumping through a whole lot of hoops to make sure no one else finds out.”
Lance turned as she strode past him and tapped at her phone briskly, heading for the elevators as she broke into a jog.
“Where are you going?”
“Just got to check on something,” Alicia said as she hit the elevator button with the flat of her palm. “I probably won’t be back. Keep your phone on you.”
Sorry so early but it’s urgent, she typed. Meet me as soon as you can. Text when you’re on your way.
She hit send and then clicked the parking garage button several times in a row, her blood echoing so loudly in her ears she barely heard the chime of the door sliding closed.
Let’s hope Emilio really can deliver, she thought. If no one wants to look too closely at this city’s Man of the Year, let’s see how they feel about dealing with the fallout of a corrupt police force. Sometimes all it takes is one match to burn down the whole damn city. And I know just the hero to start with.
Alicia pulled up to the King’s Court Motel a little after 6 AM and parked on the street behind the alley. She sat in the front seat of her car and checked her rearview mirror as she pulled out her cell phone.
I’m outside, she typed. Waiting.
Alicia tucked her long ponytail over her shoulder and toyed with the collar of her black jacket without thinking, her gold eyes wide and alert. Outside her window the side façade of Ronan’s one-time apartment went up four stories high, the top two stories enclosed on either end by two large stone balconies. She looked down at her phone as it lit up in her lap and threw the car into gear as a message from Emilio came through, the text short and sweet.
Room 347. Park against the wall by the dumpster.
Alicia looked over her shoulder and then pulled the car into the lot, her long blond ponytail swinging across her chest as she glided past the security camera at the front gate. She drove around back, glancing at the steel balcony leading up to the roof and then pulled her car into a space next to the dumpsters and let it idle for a moment before killing the engine.
She craned her neck towards the opposite window as she saw someone walk across the parking lot and unlocked her door as Emilio yanked it open, yawning into his hand as he slid into the seat beside her.
“You sure you took care of the cameras?” She asked as he ran a hand through his short black hair, wiping his hands down his face. “I drove right past three of them on the way in.”
“Nice to see you too, Miss Gale,” he said reaching into his jacket pocket, his voice low and heavy with sleep. “And yeah. I’m sure. We should be good for another thirty minutes or so. Mind telling me what the rush was?”
Alicia held out a small coffee as he passed her the drive and reached for her leather satchel as she held it up curiously.
“Something strange is going on with this story. I just may need a fresh bargaining chip, that’s all.”
Emilio took a sip of his coffee, raising a brow at her as she slid the flash drive in without waiting for an answer and then tapped at her keyboard briskly as the download popped up on her screen.
“Strange how?”
Alicia looked up as some of the restless friendliness left his face and felt a cool jolt of recognition run through her as she realized that he was actually watching her very closely, his dark eyes darting over her face as if he was trying to figure out if she was worth the risk.
“Don’t worry, Emilio,” Alicia said, clicking on the image until it filled the screen. “Soft place to land, right? I’ll hold up my end of it.”
Emilio looked at her with that strange intensity for a moment longer and then nodded and scrolled his fingers as the image began to stream.
“Twelve oh three,” he said reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes. “And then again at one forty-six. I keyed it up for you.”
She pulled her screen closer as the slightly blurry footage opened on what looked like a corner view of the motel lobby at night before shooting forward, the time stamp at the bottom right corner of the screen moving from 10:42 to a little before 11:00 in the span of a few seconds. She leaned closer as the image slowed back down to normal speed, her eyes rolling to the time stamp and felt a jolt of sudden excitement as a man in a long black trench coat walked into the motel, the angle so perfect she could make out a shade of his profile as he wheeled a narrow black case around the corner.
Must’ve known who I wanted all along, she thought, hitting the slow-motion button as she remembered the way Emilio had waited for her outside the office as casually as a street vendor. He’s probably just been waiting for someone to ask him. Or waiting for the right deal to come along.
Alicia blinked as she watched the image move forward at half speed and tapped her lips as Emilio leaned over the laptop with her, pointing to the time stamp as the man turned around. He hit the pause button as he took another drink and made a quick gesture over the screen.
“That’s the best shot of him. But there’s the case, see? And here’s something interesting. Even though he goes inside and acts like he’s getting a room, he’s not on the log. Not anywhere. I checked.”
Alicia’s gold eyes flew over the screen as Emilio hit the pause button again and darted her eyes from one end of the screen to the other as she tried to refine the image. She watched the man with the case get back into his car and then shook her head as he disappeared around the corner, his face obscured completely another van leaving the lot.
“That could be anyone,” she said as the time stamp flew forward and then faded into a brief jerky cut of black. “Tall. Dark hair. Young thirties? I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“Not your job, right?” Emilio said, taking another sip of his coffee as he tapped the screen again. “The important thing is that he’s on here. Which means White wasn’t lying. And did you see that camera he had on his arm?”
“I saw
it.”
“Keep watching. I think it’s just for show. In fact, I think the whole thing might be for show.”
Alicia looked down at the screen as she watched the scene change again and touched the image as she watched the man in the black trench coat walk towards the corner of the farthest building, scrolling up as high as the screen would allow.
“See that?” Emilio said, his voice becoming bright and animated. “That corner right there? That’s the closest point between our alleyway and White’s apartment. I checked. And I don’t think that case is for storing cameras.”
Alicia paused the image as she saw the man head around the corner, wheeling his case behind him as he disappeared behind the wall.
“Which would be perfect if he was planning on shooting her from the balcony,” Alicia said shaking her head as the camera crawled closer to the next time stamp. “Which we know he didn’t do. But why the camera? Why would he bother to even bring the case inside? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Emilio held up his finger and then zoomed in on the corner of the building, slowing the image to less than one-fifth speed before moving it ahead frame by frame.
“You’re not watching,” he said pointing to a small flutter of moment at the edge of the film.
Alicia bent closer as the man paused on the other side of the building and reached for the screen without thinking as she saw the unmistakable swing of a steel door flying open before he dragged the case around the corner.
“The roof,” she said, her pulse beginning to hammer wildly as Emilio nodded.
“Yep. One door. Right there. So like I said, I don’t think that case is for carrying cameras. But if a guy like that comes in and tells someone he’s a professional photographer and wants some nice night shots of the city, my guess is the manager didn’t ask too many questions. No record. No anything. In and out like a ghost. And what’s a few less hundred dollars here or there in the till?”
Alicia looked down at her laptop as the image cut out and then leaned forward, running her eyes down the wrought iron railing that ran along the upper floor.
“Why wouldn’t he just pick the lock? Seems pretty low risk. Even with the cameras.”
“Ah,” Emilio said tipping his fingers towards the corner of the building. “Good question. Because that door right there trips an alarm inside unless the manager on duty keys in a code. You’d be surprised how many of our regular patrons want to belong to the three-story high club.”
“No footage of him coming back down?”
Emilio scratched the back of his neck as Alicia jostled the laptop off of her lap and slid it onto the dashboard in front of them.
“Those are the only places I found him. And trust me, I looked.”
Alicia followed the roof to the building across the street, tapping her finger against her lips.
“How did he get out of there?” She said, her voice so low that Emilio raised his brows.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” Alicia said reaching into the backseat for her slim leather bag. “Does anyone else have access to that code besides the manager?”
“Just security. And someone would’ve had to disarm it that night. Unless the entire system was down. And I checked. It wasn’t.”
Alicia dragged her bag into the front seat, snapping the flash drive out of the computer as she tossed it inside in one smooth motion.
“That footage isn’t the best, but it should convince whoever you show it to that you’re serious. So I should expect a call, right?”
“Forward me your resume,” Alicia said, starting the ignition as Emilio finished his coffee and then got out of the car. “I’ll have Lance bring you in.”
“Yeah, I already did that,” Emilio said, craning his neck back down to meet her eyes. “Last Monday. You should check your inbox more.”
He slammed the door shut as she glanced over her shoulder and then threw the car into reverse, raising her hand at him in a slight wave before driving back towards the entrance.
“Thank you, Emilio,” he said under his breath, and tossed his empty cup into the dumpster as he reached for his cigarettes, packing them against his hand lightly as he took the long way around.
Noah Barnes looked up from his phone as the delivery van rolled to the end of the street and slid it into his front pocket as his partner turned the radio down, snapping his fingers in his direction.
“Look alive, huh?” Cooper said, his tanned face taking on the constipated look it always got whenever they did a drop-off on the wrong side of town. “This area is really nasty. Two guys have been robbed along this route just in this last year alone.”
Noah raised his brows and acted impressed which he had found was the chief response his senior driver expected out of him and glanced into the rearview mirror as he tucked the brim of his cap down around his eyes.
“Oh yeah? Anyone you know?”
Cooper gave him a look of annoyed importance and yanked the parking brake harder than he needed to as they slid to a stop at the end of the alleyway drive.
“I knew them both. The first one was just a dumbass. Newbie like you. Never paid attention to anything, left his shit in the car six days out of seven. Always in a hurry to get home.”
Noah ran his tongue over his lower teeth and wished suddenly that he had brought his tobacco tin with him, the urge to spit with authority running through his veins in a sudden, sullen flash.
“The next one though was a good driver. He was with the company for six, maybe seven years. He did everything he was supposed to do and still they fired him. Same as the other one. No questions, no excuses. Straight to the unemployment line, just like that.”
Noah nodded sagely as if the anecdote had resonated in a lesson learned kind of way and then raised his brows as Cooper honked his horn twice at the back bay, making a low noise of disgust as the sliding steel door remained shut tight.
“Son of a bitch,” Cooper said, sighing deeply as he kicked open his truck door and reached for his clipboard. “These assholes are always running behind. You’d think that after two years on the same schedule they’d just stop wasting everyone’s time and get with the program.”
“Want me to come with?” Noah asked, hooking his thumb towards the back of the truck.
Cooper turned towards him, his face screwing up with frustration as he let out a weary sigh.
“Haven’t you been listening to a thing I’ve said?”
He stepped down into the alleyway and then tucked his clipboard under one arm as he pointed in the direction of the glove compartment like an umpire trying to communicate with one of the slower kids on his little league team.
“You stay with the truck. Gun’s in there. I shouldn’t be any longer than twenty minutes. And no fucking texting until I get back. It’s twenty minutes, Barnes. Try and take a little personal responsibility for a change.”
“Sounds good,” Noah said, giving him a little salute that he knew would annoy him as he adjusted the brim of his hat again. “I’ll be here.”
Cooper grimaced and then swung the door shut as Noah reached for the radio, flipping through all the presets idly before settling on the news station. He glanced down the alleyway again, hanging his elbow out of the window and toyed briefly with the idea of throwing the car into drive and just driving around the block a few times, anything to wipe that long suffering look off of his partner’s smug face. Not that he was complaining. Not really.
After all deeper humiliations did exist. He had been working as a mall cop before this, which seemed to be the only job he could scrounge up after he’d gotten thrown out of the police academy in his second month for some bullshit drug charge that should’ve been sealed the moment he turned eighteen.
No such luck, he thought, drumming his fingers on the side of the van as he cranked the heat up a couple more notches. And no use trying to explain to the cops that the pot really wasn’t mine. Not when the guy who catches you
with it just happens to be a firefighter who seems to take it as a personal insult that his notorious skank of a daughter decided to show you the ropes one rainy afternoon in May. Try running that one past the judge. Go ahead. Just try it.
And no use pretending he wasn’t going to be a lifer at this job either, that was for sure. Nope this was it for him, the end of the career line. Maybe one day he would get to carry the keys like his partner did but unless he started shelling out some serious trade school cash he absolutely did not have, riding shotgun in the foulest smelling food van in the whole city seemed to it for him. Which frankly was a whole lot better than hanging out at home with his retired parents every day who skirted around him like some sort of leper and made him pay a hundred dollars a week in rent each week just to encourage him to take what they called “initiative”.
Initiative and responsibility, he thought tipping his head to the side in the rearview mirror, trying to decide if he wanted to shave in the next few days or just let nature take its course. Seems like I’ve been hearing that tune a lot lately. I mean, is it our fault that the entire economy decided to go tits up the second we got to the finish line? No sir. Not even a little bit. Maybe Mars is in retrograde. Who the fuck can say?
He toyed with the latch of the glove compartment box, letting a brief but satisfying fantasy of pulling the gun out and shooting his boss right in the throat run through his mind and then turned his head as he heard someone pull the driver’s side door open, checking the clock automatically.
“They must’ve been waiting…” he said as the shadow of a body lurched up the wheel well threshold and then froze as he realized that the size was all wrong. He felt his insides turn to cement as one of the biggest men he had ever seen snapped a gun in his face and then gave him a wink as he swung into the driver’s seat. Noah’s eyes darted towards the glove compartment as the man slammed the door behind him and glanced at the inside of his watch before tipping the gun towards his chest.
“You must be Noah,” the man said, his low voice flat and calm and Noah slid his hand onto the opposite door latch, blinking so rapidly his face seemed to come at him in a series of rapid fire action cuts. The man glanced down at Noah’s hand and then sighed, his expression barely changing as he raised his brows at him.