Make Me Melt

by Karen Foley

  Parking the SUV in front of a derelict building, he stepped out and then tipped his head back to look up toward the roof. The windows on the lower floors were boarded up, but the top floor windows were intact and even appeared to be recently installed. He definitely had the right address.

  “Yo, mister, whatchya doing here? You lost?”

  Jason turned to see a group of boys and young men standing near the rear of the car. There were six of them, ranging in age from about fourteen to mid-twenties. He braced his hands on his hips, pushing his jacket back just enough for them to see his badge and his gun.

  “I’m here to see an old friend,” he replied. “Maybe you know him? Eddie Green.”

  He saw the oldest man’s eyes flick upward to the top floor of the building, and Jason knew he’d been right—Green lived in this building. Jason also noted how three of the other youths kept one hand loosely behind their backs, which meant they were carrying weapons in the backs of their pants. After closer inspection, he realized that two of the young men wore surveillance earpieces similar to what he wore when he was on duty. Eddie already knew he was here. The message was clear, and Jason knew they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if the ringleader decided he was a threat. Several members of their gang were already on death row for murdering a police officer. No doubt they each considered it a badge of honor, and Jason felt a little ill at the thought that he had once been like these derelicts.

  “You sure about that?” the first man asked. “Last time I checked, Eddie wasn’t friends with no cops.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” Reaching into his back pocket, he withdrew a slim length of photos, the kind you got from a coin-operated photo booth. The black-and-white pictures were of him and Eddie and another boy, Nick, taken one summer on the boardwalk. “We go way back.”

  The man stepped forward and took the photos, glancing suspiciously between the pictures and Jason. Jason didn’t miss how his eyes widened when he recognized the younger version of Eddie, with hair and without his signature tattoos. His eyes narrowed as he continued examining the young boy in the photo, after a while finally acknowledging it was Jason.

  He looked at his companions and gave them a curt nod. “Yo, my man, watch the car. Don’t let nothing happen to it.” Turning to Jason, he swaggered forward and handed him the photos. “Follow me.”

  Jason studied him for a moment and then nodded, indicating the other man should precede him. He didn’t doubt his own abilities to protect himself, but he didn’t like the thought of anyone sneaking up behind him. Now he followed the man through an alleyway to a reinforced steel door. Inside, the building appeared as empty and dilapidated as the exterior would lead you to believe, but the freight elevator was in good working condition.

  “Just take it to the top, man.”

  Jason stepped into the elevator and closed the steel grate, never taking his eye off the other man, until the elevator slid smoothly upward and the guy disappeared from sight. On the top floor, Jason opened the doors and found himself in a hallway that was garishly lit. There was only one door visible, and he could see that it was partially open.

  As he walked slowly toward the door, he saw the shadows of several figures at the end of the corridor and knew that Eddie’s henchmen were standing around the corner, just out of sight. He kept his hands carefully away from his own weapon and toed the door open wide enough to look inside.

  “Hey, man,” a voice called from inside the apartment. “C’mon in—it’s all good.”

  Jason stepped inside. Two enormous men immediately converged on him and quickly patted him down. Having expected this, Jason didn’t protest; he waited while they confiscated his two weapons and his badge. He was in a spacious loft apartment. The walls were exposed brick and beams, and the living area was richly decorated with leather furnishings and high-end stereo and electronics. However, Jason wasn’t fooled by the fancy window dressing—he knew Eddie to be a hardened criminal, and everything he owned was the result of those crimes. He might like to surround himself with expensive things, but it didn’t change who—or what—he was.

  A state-of-the-art kitchen occupied one end of the apartment, and a man stood behind the counter, preparing what looked like breakfast. The two henchmen brought his guns and his badge over to the kitchen and dropped them onto the granite island. Eddie studied the badge for a moment and then gave a curt jerk of his chin toward the door. The men left, pushing past Jason without a word. He knew they would stand just outside the door, ready to intervene if Eddie gave them any indication.

  Now he stood with his finger on the button of a blender, watching Jason. He wore a white sleeveless T-shirt and a pair of baggy workout pants. Tattoos covered his head, neck, shoulders and arms. Several gold chains hung around his neck, and two chunky rings flashed on his right hand.

  For an instant, Jason could actually feel his own tattoos burning into his skin. His grandmother had been so disappointed when she’d first seen them, Jason had felt some remorse. But back then, impressing Eddie had been more important than making his grandmother proud of him.

  “Nice place you have here,” Jason commented, glancing around the apartment.

  “Yeah, thanks.” Eddie shrugged. “The rent is cheap, and I kinda like the neighborhood.” He paused. “So what brings a U.S. marshal out here? Alone?” He gestured around him with one hand. “This place has been searched at least a dozen times in the last year, and it’s clean. You won’t find anything illegal here, Marshal. I’m an upstanding citizen of San Francisco.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you are,” Jason drawled. Walking over to where Eddie stood, he withdrew a photo of Judge Banks and tossed it onto the counter. “I don’t suppose you recognize this man?”

  Eddie’s gaze flicked from Jason to the photo; then he picked it up to study it more closely. “This is that judge that got shot, right?” He flicked the photo back onto the counter. “Wish I could say I’m sorry, but I got two men on death row because of that fucker. Is the judge dead?”

  Jason ignored the question. “What do you know about the shooting?”

  Eddie’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Why would I know anything about it? Are you suggesting I had something to do with it?” He snorted. “If you knew anything about me, you’d know that ain’t how I operate.”

  Jason leaned over the counter and put his hand over the judge’s photo, sliding it back. “I know exactly how you operate, Eddie. I was your first recruit.”

  “Do I know you?” He stared at Jason for a moment, his eyes narrowing, before he gave a bark of astonished laughter. “Jesus Christ! Is that you, Cooper?”

  In an instant, his entire demeanor changed. He came around the counter, his hands stretched out. “Jesus, man, you just vanished from the face of the fucking earth, and now here you are, all dressed up like a fucking cop. How you been, man?”

  Jason didn’t shake the other man’s hand, but he didn’t object when Eddie gave him a swift, hard embrace. He reeked of some expensive cologne that stayed in Jason’s nostrils even after they stepped apart.

  “I’ve been okay,” he replied stiffly. “But Judge Banks is a friend of mine. Somebody shot him on his own front steps, and I intend to find out who.”

  Eddie frowned, staring at Jason with an affronted expression. “And you’re pointing the finger at me? Man, I am highly offended by that. It really grieves me to have you believe I would do something so cold-blooded.”

  “Not you, Eddie. Your boys. Like you said, Judge Banks sent two of your men to death row. That’s gotta hurt.”

  Eddie sniffed and looked away. “Yeah. One of them is my baby brother. But whatever you think of me, you know I got a code of honor. I don’t kill cops, women or kids.” He gave Jason a sly smile. “So you see, you’re safe—I protect the weak.”

  Jason ignored the insult. “What do you hear on the street? If it wasn’t your boys
, you must know who was responsible.”

  Eddie shrugged. “I don’t hear anything, at least not about the judge. But I saw on the news that he has a real pretty daughter.” His expression grew sly. “I saw you on the news, too, all protective and shit, carrying her out of the house. I’ll bet that uniform gets you all kinds of nice perks, huh? You banging the judge’s daughter?”

  Jason had to put a choke hold on his gut reaction to Eddie’s crude suggestion. He wanted to smash the other’s man mouth, but instead he ignored the gibe and kept his expression carefully neutral.

  He had tried to shield Caroline from the television crew that had lined the street in front of her father’s Sea Cliff house, but there’d been no way to avoid the cameras after she’d fainted in his arms. He’d had to carry her back to the waiting SUV, and the reporters had eaten it up, capturing the footage on film. The last thing Jason wanted was Eddie Green expressing any kind of interest in Caroline. He regretted that Eddie knew she even existed. But he realized the damage had been done, and all he could do now was downplay it and hopefully divert Green’s interest elsewhere.

  “What about Sanchez’s men?” he asked. “I hear they’ve moved into your neighborhood. That can’t be good for business.”

  He watched as Eddie’s hand curled into a fist, and then he abruptly turned around and busied himself cooking breakfast. “Yeah,” he threw over his shoulder. “What about Sanchez’s men? Why don’t you ask them about it? Them sons of bitches been bringing down the real estate value around here. Someone needs to put a stop to their illegal activities. I hope you intend to pay them a visit while you’re in the area.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You want me to find out if they was involved?” he asked.

  Jason knew what that would entail, and he didn’t want anyone getting hurt. Eddie’s form of interrogation could be deadly. “No, thanks. I’ve got it covered.”

  “Sure. Whatever.” He turned around and leaned back against the counter. “So look at you. The last time I saw you, you were just a kid. You got picked up for breaking and entering, right?”

  “Car theft, actually.”

  “And now you’re a damned cop. Unbelievable. You never came back after they hauled you in. What happened to you? My boys said you went to juvie.”

  “Yeah, something like that.” Jason didn’t want to talk about himself, especially not to Eddie. After the car-jacking incident, he’d ended up in Judge Banks’s courtroom. The sentencing had involved sending him to a residential school for at-risk youth. At first he’d been resistant, but it hadn’t been long before he’d understood that he’d been given a second chance. Judge Banks had made that possible.

  “You still see your old man? I hear he’s living over on Griffith, at one of them treatment centers. He must be so proud of you.”

  Jason hadn’t seen his father in over twelve years. The last he knew, his father had been unemployed, subsisting on welfare and had been in and out of rehab.

  “I don’t see my father anymore,” he said shortly. “Thanks for your time.”

  “Yeah, you take care.” Eddie’s mouth twisted in a semblance of a smile. “It was good seeing you, man. I mean that sincerely. And I’m glad you’ve done good. I mean, who knows where you’d be if you’d hung with me, right?” He gestured toward his surroundings. “Maybe if things had gone differently—if you hadn’t been pinched jacking that car—you’d be the one living here.”

  Jason withdrew a card from his wallet and handed it to the gang leader. “Here’s my number.” He paused. “I know you have no reason to want to help me, but—”

  “It’s cool,” Eddie said, taking the card. “I’ll keep my ears open.”

  He slid Jason’s badge back toward him, and then scooped up his two guns. “My boys will walk you out. Sure hate for anything to happen to a U.S. marshal right outside my front door.”

  Jason arched an eyebrow and fastened his badge to his belt, then followed Eddie’s men back to his SUV. It took a moment before he turned on the ignition, however. His heart was pounding, and his old associate’s words reverberated in his head.

  If things had gone differently...

  Jason squeezed the bridge of his nose, unwilling to picture himself like Eddie. He pushed aside the unwelcome memories that his visit had stirred up, reminding himself that he’d chosen a different path. He and the gang leader were like opposite sides of the same coin; they’d been punched from the same piece of metal but had been stamped with different dies.

  After a moment, Jason switched on the ignition. Glancing up at the top floor of the warehouse, he could see Eddie watching him through the windows. Thrusting the SUV into gear, he slowly drove away.

  As he drove away from the seedy neighborhood, he couldn’t prevent himself from taking a detour down Griffith Street. He didn’t want to see his father; he didn’t want to see the squalor and poverty in which he was surely living. He told himself again that his old man had made his own choices and was ultimately responsible for where he was in life. But another part of him wanted to make sure that he was okay.

  He drove slowly down Griffith Street, until he came to the treatment center that Eddie had mentioned. It was a modest two-story structure with an enormous, wraparound porch. Several people sat outside, watching the traffic go by. There were two old, frail-looking men sitting in chairs, smoking cigarettes. As Jason drove past, he thought one of them might be his father. But without stopping for a closer look, he couldn’t be certain.

  He continued down the road, telling himself he couldn’t stop. Nothing good would come of seeing him face-to-face. It had taken him years to set aside the anger and resentment he’d held toward his old man. Even now, knowing that addiction was a disease and that his father was as much a victim as he was, he didn’t trust himself to speak to Daryl Cooper. He didn’t need that kind of disappointment in his life.

  Instead, he scribbled down the name of the center, knowing that he’d make a phone call later on to determine if his father was staying there. Then he’d probably provide them with a substantial donation in which to better feed and clothe their clients. He knew the gesture would only go so far in assuaging his own guilt, but he had no desire to establish any closer reunion with his father. He had nothing to say to him, and the man had lost the right to be his father a long, long time ago. Jason would ensure he was taken care of, out of respect for his grandmother’s memory, but that was it.

  He didn’t know if Eddie had told him the truth when he’d said he had nothing to do with the shooting. But he wouldn’t take him at his word. Guys like Green had learned to survive through deception. If he hadn’t been involved, Jason knew he’d piqued Eddie’s interest in the case. He also knew that the gang leader liked to perceive himself as having connections, especially if those connections were with law enforcement. He might even be thinking that if he did Jason a solid, he could one day call in the favor.

  Glancing at his watch, he saw he’d been gone for almost two hours. He wished now that he’d kept the room at the Fairmont. After visiting Hunters Point, he felt like he needed a shower. The smell of Eddie’s cologne still clung to him. In a moment of panic, he angled the rearview mirror so that he could see his own reflection. Outwardly, he looked exactly the same, but Jason didn’t feel reassured. Anyone who looked closely enough would see him for what he really was.

  9

  CAROLINE LOOKED UP as Jason entered the hospital room. She had to resist the urge to fly into his arms, she was so happy to see him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Caroline nodded. “Yes. Did Deputy Black tell you the good news?” She looked back at her father. “He came out of the coma this afternoon and responded to the doctors.”

  Jason came to stand beside her, gently squeezing her shoulder as they both looked down at the judge. “That’s great.”

  Reaching u
p, Caroline covered his hand with her own. “He’s not out of the woods yet, and he still has a long way to go, but the doctors are optimistic that he didn’t suffer any serious brain damage.”

  She heard Jason exhale a long sigh of relief. More than anything, she wanted him to wrap her in his arms and tell her that everything would be okay, but she knew that he wouldn’t display any overt affection toward her in public, at least not while he was officially assigned to protect her. So she contented herself with this small contact and leaned back against him.

  “He’s the strongest man I know,” Jason murmured in her ear. “If anyone can pull through, he can.”

  “I agree,” she said softly. “They sedated him, but the doctors think they can move him out of intensive care in a day or so.”

  “They didn’t remove his ventilator,” Jason observed.

  “No.” Caroline knew he was hoping that the judge would be able to identify the shooter, enabling the FBI to make an arrest. “He only opened his eyes briefly, and he was able to squeeze the doctor’s hand on command. But he won’t be able to speak until the ventilator is removed. Then they gave him something for the pain, which pretty much knocked him out again.”

  “Okay. Maybe in a day or two, he’ll be able to give us an indication of who did this to him.”

  “I hope so,” she said. “But the doctors cautioned us that he may not have any memories of that night.”

  They’d told Caroline and Agent Black that it wasn’t uncommon for victims to have no recollection of a traumatic event.

  “I guess we’ll just have to wait,” Jason said.

  “You went out to Hunters Point,” she ventured. “Did you see Eddie Green?”

  Caroline thought he might deny that he’d gone out to his old neighborhood to confront the criminal, but he didn’t. Instead, he drew her away from the bedside.

  “I saw Eddie,” he confirmed. “He said he had nothing to do with the shooting, but there’s no way to really know. The ballistics came back on the bullets, but we don’t have a weapon. The FBI said they only have a partial footprint from the flower bed, and there’s not enough detail to know if it belongs to the gardener or somebody else.”