by G. K. Lund
“You mean…is she blackmailing me?”
I couldn’t decipher her look but nodded.
“No, she’s not.”
I wanted to press her, but she was my boss. I was already on a thin line here.
Mulligan drummed her fingers on her desk, staring at me a moment. “Here’s what we’ll do,” she finally said. “I’ll give you some leeway. Your partner’s been shot after all.”
“Leeway?”
“You will not give that file or that information to Kaye and Bowman.”
I opened my mouth at this, but she held up a hand to silence me.
“No,” she said, the order clear. “They will investigate using the information you have given them prior. You, on the other hand, will take a look at this. If it pans out, then come see me and we’ll figure out what to do. If not, Ms. Evans will be left alone.”
I must have gaped, as she told me to close my mouth. What was going on? The Chief hiring Evans now and then was one thing, but this was downright protecting her.
“Is there a problem?” Mulligan asked. “You finally get to investigate her. Not for the first time, though,” she said, her eyes on the file.
“No,” I said, shaking my head as I got up to leave, “no problem at all, Chief.”
Back at my desk, her words swirled around in my head. Something was wrong, and I couldn’t shake the feeling she was being extorted in some way. Whatever it was Evans knew about her, it had to be bad. But Mulligan? I couldn’t understand it. I pushed the thought away and went to work. No point in wasting time on questions I wouldn’t get the answer to on my own.
As I sat reading Evans’ file, I was interrupted for a second time, though this time it was an unknown voice that stopped me from finishing a sentence.
“Detective Hansen?”
I turned to the man who’d walked up behind me and nodded. I knew before he’d introduced himself that this was the FBI agent Kaye had mentioned. Typical dark suit that didn’t quite hide the muscles under it, gun under the jacket, and an almost military haircut. A lean and alert face, He was about my age, though his hair had started graying at the temples. It made me glad I hadn’t considered that career path.
“I’m Agent Larkin fro—”
“Yeah, I’ve heard. Small town and all.”
“I couldn’t help but notice your reading material,” the agent said, nodding toward the file on Evans.
“That seems to be the thing today,” I said and saw a puzzled look in his eyes a moment. “What can I do for you?” I added. “I already gave my statement to Detective Kaye.”
“That’s not what I’m wondering about.”
“Okay?” That was weird. Wasn’t he here because of the kidnapping?
“Margaret Evans?” he said, not able to hide his curiosity at the file.
“You know her?”
“The Bureau has an…interest in her.”
What was this? Interest? “You’re going to have to speak plainer than that,” I said.
“Do you know where she is, Detective?”
“No, wouldn’t be sitting here if I did. What has she done?”
“She in town?”
“As of—” I was about to say yesterday, but something made me stop. The weird way the conversation was going, I suppose. “Two days ago,” I said instead. That could, after all, be checked and verified. Mulligan had not mentioned this guy when ordering me to investigate Evans, and I didn’t think she’d want him involved. Hell, I didn’t want him around.
“Well, if you see her, give me a call, will you?” he said and handed me a card with his contact information.
“Sure thing,” I said, refocusing on the file yet again as he walked over to Kaye and Bowman. They didn’t look overjoyed to see him but talked politely enough.
The FBI? What was that woman mixed up in? Whatever it was, I knew I had been right all along. Still, with McAllen in hospital, that did not lift my spirits.
Chapter 9
After finishing with the file, I didn’t quite know where to start. I could go to Evans’s place, of course, but, according to the information Collier had gathered on her, she didn’t stay there often. So, with nothing better to go on, I headed back to the hospital where nothing had changed, either. Eventually, I went to the crime scene late in the day. The alley looked the same, still shaded from the sun and quiet. There had been people watching yesterday, of course, drawn in by the sirens, paramedics, and cops milling around. The interest seemed to have died down today, though. As I walked in, I passed broken police tape, and further in, I could see the pool of dried blood where McAllen had been shot. Some of it had been dragged out on the ground by tires, by the look of the tracks. Likely a delivery truck after they’d cleared the scene. I walked further in, where we had seen the van. Scuff marks on the ground. Not really a surprise, either. I walked to where the van had been, a passage between the storage building and the apartment building next to it. It headed straight ontothe blue street but wasn’t wide enough for a car or truck. That must have been where Evans had hidden. We hadn’t seen her at all. Not until I glimpsed her after the shooting. I went back and forth along the passage the van had driven, which I knew led to the street parallel to Blue Street. It revealed nothing. Not that I expected it. No cameras anywhere, like Kaye had said. It made me wonder what was in the delivery trucks, though.
I didn’t have time to think more about it, as I stood, back by the pool of dried blood, and noticed a familiar face out on the blue street.
“What the…?” I said as I stared in utter disbelief at Evans walking on the sidewalk on the other side of the street. “No way!” I headed for the narrow passageway she must have used yesterday. Sure enough, as I reached the street, I saw that it was indeed Evans. She was walking away from Danny’s, and it looked like she’d been in there as well, a takeaway bag in her hand.
I hurriedly crossed the street, taking time to let a car pass without a near crash this time. She didn’t notice me as I came up behind her, taking long strides to catch up.
“Evans,” I called out, seeing her stiffen immediately, as she stopped and turned. She’d recognized my voice, knowing this wouldn’t be good. As she turned around, though, any trace of surprise was gone from her face. She was smiling, but I could see the worry on her.
“What a surprise,” she said. “What can I do for you, Detective?” She adjusted her grip on the bag as the plastic had started to rip.
“We need to have a talk.”
“Okay, No problem. Let me just—”
The bag flew toward me, hitting me square in the chest as she bolted. I took a step back in surprise, as the food landed on the sidewalk, and watched her run at full tilt. I called after her to stop, but it didn’t do anything to persuade her. Nor did I fret much over it. I glanced down at the food, seeing a mix of dressing and tomato sauce from the boxes. My clothes had been spared that mess by the plastic. I grabbed the bag, thinking she must have torn at the handle even before she’d turned, and threw it in the nearest bin. Then I turned and walked the opposite way.
The thing about the blue street is that it leads into Shore Street, which, in turn, leads down to the harbor. It doesn’t cross the blue street at a ninety-degree angle, though, but rather more diagonal, running in a sort of parallel to the blue street. Since she was running that way, she would have to make a left where the streets met. Easier to find a place to hide down by the harbor than keeping on running along either of the two streets the other way.
So, I walked back the opposite way, until I stepped in between two houses that stood close together. A narrow passageway presented itself. Most people didn’t know of it, as it looked like you were trespassing by going in there what with garden plants and hedges concealing most of it. It wasn’t the first time I’d been running after some perp in this area, needing the shortcut.
Sure enough, as I reached the other side, I didn’t have to wait long before hearing running footsteps coming my way. I waited, listened, and before she pa
ssed me, I stepped out onto the sidewalk and grabbed her arm, yanking her back and into the passageway. It made her stumble with the abrupt change in her speed and movements.
“Hey, what the fuck?” she exclaimed, raising her free hand, ready to punch or hit. She was a millisecond away from attacking when recognition showed in her eyes and she stopped herself.
“By all means,” I said, not letting go of her arm. “Give me a reason to arrest you.”
“Are you all right, miss?” a female voice interrupted. I turned and saw an elderly woman staring at us, wondering if Evans was in danger. I couldn’t blame the woman for thinking it if she’d seen her being pulled off the sidewalk like that.
“Nothing to concern you, ma’am,” I said, flashing my badge. “She’s suspected of selling drugs to kids,” I added, not really knowing where that lie came from. It did the trick, though. As she walked away the old lady stared daggers at Evans, who returned the look immediately instead of trying to deny what I said.
She calmed down a little, though, catching her breath, which, by the way, wasn’t that restrained. She could obviously run some distance with ease. As for the attack she’d scrapped, well, Collier’s file suggested knowledge of some martial arts, although he hadn’t pinpointed any particular style. Good to know in advance.
“That was handy,” she said, indicating my badge with her head. “Maybe I should get one of those.”
A comment made of pure bile threatened to pass my lips in response to that, but I clenched my teeth at the thought instead.
“So, what do you want?” she said. “Or are we going stand here all day holding hands?”
“I’m considering whether or not to cuff you,” I said. “My partner was shot yesterday.”
She nodded at that, looking genuinely sad. That was expected, though. She got on well enough with McAllen, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t to blame. “Yeah,” she said. “It was all over the paper. But why are you—”
“Why did you run?” I interrupted. She knew damn well where and when it had happened.
“I…” she began, for once at a loss for words.
“Yeah, I thought so,” I said. “I saw you. Your partners left you in that alley, but I saw you.”
“Wait…what partners?”
“Don’t bother—”
“You think I had something to do with the shooting?” she said, raising her voice.
“You know I do.” I was the one smiling now. “Why else did you run?”
She pulled her arm at that, but I didn’t let go. I had no intention of chasing her through the streets if I could avoid it.
“Listen,” she said, going for a reasonable voice now. There was no fear to see in her, there never was, but she could be intimidated somewhat if one pushed the right buttons. “Okay, so I ran, but only because I knew you’d overreact.”
“Overreact?”
“That’s what you do, isn’t it? Getting all irritated and cranky because…I don’t know, the world lives to see another day?”
“I get cranky,” I said, pointedly looking down at her, “when people shoot at me. I get irritated when my friends are shot, and I get pissed off when I’m then told to do a separate investigation into the shooting because a suspect is watched over by my boss.”
Her eyes widened at that. “Mulligan told you to do that?” she asked, and I nodded in response.
“And I’m a suspect in this?” She seemed honestly surprised this time, but she relaxed her arm and nodded at me. “Okay. I’ll cooperate, Detective.”
It was my turn to be surprised this time. “Really?” I said, doubt infusing the word.
“Sure thing,” she said, giving me a wide, dark-pink smile. “So…what do you want to know?”
I eyed her with suspicion. She’d only become cooperative when finding out Mulligan had her back. She must therefore also have surmised that I couldn’t bring her back to the station without solid evidence of her involvement. She probably reasoned she was better off going along instead of trying to evade me.
“Fine,” I said and let go of her arm. She instantly pulled at her dark jacket, setting it in place, though looking exactly the same as before. With her black jeans and white top, she almost looked like she could be working in some office. Work, though, was an interesting concept put together with her, as it seemed she had none.
“If you try to run,” I said, “well…I’ll just catch you again, won’t I?”
She scoffed at this but said nothing. I took that as her understanding.
“All right then,” I continued. “let’s go to the crime scene, shall we?”
She shrugged and started walking back the way I’d come. “Selling drugs to kids, huh?” she asked after a couple of seconds.
“Yeah…” I said walking behind her, “it made her hate you instantly, didn’t it?”
“The feeling was mutual.”
It probably was. The old woman had judged her without question.
Back at the crime scene, she stood a moment, staring at the dried pool of blood.
“This is where it happened?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Damn…that’s a lot of blood. How is he?”
I couldn’t help narrowing my eyes at her. “Near death,” I snarled. I hadn’t heard from Rosita, which meant there was no change in McAllen’s condition yet. “But, we’re not here for this.”
She nodded almost before I got the words out. “Tell me what you were doing here.” She walked backward a few steps before turning around and looking in the direction where the van had been.
“I was here to meet Andrea,” she said.
“The woman who was kidnapped?”
She nodded, looked down, and swallowed hard. If I didn’t know her, I would have thought it actual remorse.
“Who is she?” I asked. “What’s your connection to her?”
Evans snapped back to her usual perky mood. “Will you shut up a moment?” She actually held up her index finger to emphasize her point. “Just let me think.”
I followed her as she walked further in, stopping by the narrow alley that McAllen and myself had never reached.
“I was meeting Andrea here.”
“Why?” I asked, not giving a damn about the impatient look she sent me.
“This is a good place to meet, to avoid nosy people,” she said looking around the quiet area. I could hear a truck further in, but it didn’t come as far as we were. An undisturbed place. Drug deals, then? I still hadn’t figured out where she got her money from, but I didn’t ask. Right now, I wanted her to go on.
“So, I texted her, agreed to meet here. I came in this passageway, but I couldn’t see her,” Evans said as she started walking through the alley away from the blue street. She walked slowly as she talked, looking around, taking it in while trying to remember everything.
“Andrea answered quickly,” she continued. “turned out she’d come in via the alley on the other side of this building.” She pointed to her right with her thumb. “We laughed about it, agreeing to walk in, and…” Evans walked up to where the passageway met the alley behind the building. “I could hear her, on the phone and to my right as well.” I was about to hang up when something hit me.” She stopped right where the van had been standing. “It must have been the van. It must have hit me as they backed up. I don’t remember it, but it wasn’t bad because I remember falling. But that’s when things get fuzzy.” She looked down at the wall on her left. There was a dumpster there, a few feet away from the corner, trash, mostly paper, strewn around it. “Next thing I remember is hearing these loud noises and seeing her dragged into a van. Big one. White…or light yellow or something.”
“And then?” I prompted.
“I saw my purse on the ground. About there, I think.” She pointed more or less to the place where I’d seen her grab the purse. “Must have dropped it when they hit me.” She shrugged. “Then I left.” She looked at me, no smirk. “I didn’t see you two,” she said refocusing
on the blood that was visible from where we stood. “I must have been more out of it than I thought.”
I had so many questions to this, but I wanted something corroborated first. “Pull back your hair,” I said. “On this side.” I indicated the right side of my head with my hand.
She gave me a puzzled look but slowly did as I said. I stepped closer, squinting, seeing that she did have a cut right above her temple. It had been stitched up. Someone had helped her. It did, however, confirm what I thought I’d seen. Blood on her face. She was lucky to have avoided a concussion.
I stepped closer to the Dumpster. If she was telling the truth, she would likely have hit the wall or the dumpster, getting the cut that way. It could also mean she was telling the truth about being knocked out by the van, and not arriving in it.
“Why didn’t you call the police?” I asked as I turned around.
“I called the—” she began and then cut herself off.
Oddly, though, I had the distinct feeling she had been about to say police. That didn’t make sense.
“Do you know who did this?”
“I’m not sure.”
That was a lie. Good as she was at spotting them, hell, good as she was at telling them, this was a blatant lie. “I don’t believe you.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “This is not something you guys can handle.” She looked deadly serious.
I heard a little swishing sound, then, as if someone had snapped their fingers, her face turned to a grimace of surprise. Then she looked like she’d been drinking hard liquor for hours on end, as she slowly fell sideways.
What the hell? I stared dumbfounded as she hit the ground, hearing footsteps to my right. Then I noticed the little dart with the tiny red feathers sticking out of her left arm.
I didn’t stop to think. I stepped over to the Dumpster, grabbed the first hard thing I could find – a large plastic bucket with something heavy inside sealed with a lid. I didn’t want to pull my gun, as I didn’t want to risk being sedated with a dart myself. Instead, I went to the wall on my right, thankfully hidden by the passageway. I heard the steps coming closer, only one person. I looked down at the dart on Evans’ arm. What was this? Was there a Bond villain after her as well? Who the hell uses tranquilizer guns anyway?