Cain's Cross

by Dale Mayer

  “You think he’s coming?”

  “He’s already here,” he said, with a half smile.

  She froze.

  He held a finger against her lips and said, “Remember. Not a word.” And he moved them both into a nearby hiding space.

  And, sure enough, she heard a noise. As she waited right behind Cain, she heard the sound of more chaos outside.

  “Why is he making so much noise?” she whispered.

  An odd buzz came on his phone. He pulled her close and whispered, “That’s the signal.”

  “Signal for what?” she whispered back.

  “We have company.”

  Just then the back door burst open, and a man dressed in all black came striding through. He walked right past where they hid in the hallway—among all the boxes and the shadows everywhere—so it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t see them. He headed straight into his bedroom, then snatched up the bag without thinking, and raced back toward the door. He never made a sound.

  As he reached the door, Eton filled the frame instead. The cop froze and said, “Just who the fuck are you?”

  “Well, I would say, your worst nightmare,” Eton said, with that humorous voice of his. “But he’s actually behind you.”

  The guy spun around to look, just as Cain reached out with his right fist and plowed it into his jawbone. There was a delightful sound of bone cracking, as the man went down. When Cain heard Petra gasp beside him, he looked at her horrified face. “We need answers,” he said, with a shrug.

  She nodded, her fingers clutched together. “But that sound. God, it was awful.”

  “He’ll be fine,” he said.

  Eton picked him up under the ribs and dragged him into the kitchen, where they sat him down and tied him up.

  “What will you do with him?” she said.

  “We won’t hurt him any more than we have to, but I need to know about this Tristan guy.”

  She said, “Right. Because you so badly wanted to learn about who hired Chico.”

  “Right. He killed a good friend of ours, hurt two others on our team,” Cain said absentmindedly. He turned and looked at her. “And we’re all on his hit list too.”

  She shook her head furiously. “He’s trying to kill you?”

  Cain nodded. “And Eton and the rest of our team,” he said. “We’d like to stop him before he succeeds.”

  She gulped and nodded.

  Just then the man in the chair started to wake up. He groaned, then lifted his hand, only to find it restrained. He came awake with a hard snap. “What the hell? Who are you?” he asked, struggling against his ties. “What do you want?”

  “Good, you speak English,” Cain said. “But then you’re not from around here, are you?”

  He glared at him. “I’m a cop,” he said. “What are you after?”

  “Well, if you’re a cop,” he said, “you’re just one more of a million bad cops, so I care about justice.”

  “I’m not a bad cop,” he said. “I haven’t done anything wrong.” But fear was heavy in his tone.

  “Except for the fact that you shot at me,” she said in outrage.

  He looked at her and said, “And who are you?”

  “My sister’s been dead in that house for months,” she snapped. “I would like to know what your part in all this was.”

  His eyes widened. “What are you talking about?” he said. “I didn’t have anything to do with a dead woman.”

  “Oh, so you don’t know that the house you were guarding hid a dead body? The same house with the alarm that went off, notifying you to take anybody out who was there? Which was exactly what you tried.”

  The younger man’s face blanched, and his eyes filled with terror. “No, no, no,” he said, “I was paid to look after the house.”

  “And yet you shot at us,” she said in outrage.

  He looked at her. “Just to scare you.”

  “No, that’s not quite true,” Cain said, “or you wouldn’t have shot at the doorjamb, where we were standing.”

  The man’s gaze narrowed. “There was a bonus, if I took out anybody inside the house.”

  “And that is exactly what we want to know,” Eton said, slowly moving closer. “Who would pay that bonus?”

  The cop hesitated.

  Petra interjected, “Tristan, right?”

  Cain reached across, grabbed her hand, and pulled her up close. “We’ve got this.”

  She glared at him and then realized that was his way of telling her that she had screwed up. By supplying the name, it was possible their dirty cop would just latch on to that, instead of giving them the true name.

  But the guy looked at her and said, “He’ll kill you even for mentioning his name. You know that.”

  “Does that mean he’ll kill you too?” Cain asked.

  “Does he know that you left all the electronics behind?” Petra asked.

  The questions came hard and fast. But the kid just kept shaking his head. Finally he yelled out, “You don’t know what Tristan’s like. He’d kill all of us right now, if he thought we were talking about him.”

  “He can try,” Cain said, and, just as he spoke, a single shot was fired through the still-open back door. And just like that, the young cop’s head exploded.

  Chapter 7

  Petra was picked up roughly and dragged out of sight.

  “Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” she kept whispering against his chest, as Cain held her tight. “Tristan’s out there, isn’t he?”

  “Yep. The kid probably told him that he had to come back to the house. And, by doing that, he opened it up for somebody else to find all the electronics. That’s a mistake that’s hard to walk away from.”

  “So that means that we’re now in the line of fire.”

  “Oh, we definitely are,” he said. At that, he looked around, but Eton had already slipped out of the front door. “But this is what we do, so don’t worry about it.”

  “Don’t worry about it?” she said, shaking her head. “That’s hardly something I can do.”

  “No, not yet,” he said, “but Eton’s gone out after him.” They heard the sound of a heavy-duty vehicle ripping down the road. “But not with him taking off,” he said. “Damn.”

  “How did you know Tristan would be here?”

  “I figured the guard and Tristan would both show up,” he said. “We did set up a camera down on the far side of the street, when we were looking for license plates.”

  She shook her head at him, stunned. “This is an insane world you live in.”

  “It is,” he said. “But, even worse, they’re all gunning after me and my team. So we’ll do anything we can to protect ourselves.”

  His voice was hard, and she had absolutely no doubt that he meant every word he said. She looked down at the dead kid and sighed. “Guess that means you’ll have to call the cops back.”

  “Yep,” he said. “We will.” And, with that, he untied the man.

  “They’ll want to talk to you and will probably throw you in jail for this,” she said.

  He glanced at her and smiled. “Not likely. We have friends in high places. Except for the blip on the radar locally for having a bad cop in their batch, it won’t be deemed much, as far as the police are concerned.”

  “Is that even fair?” she said. “I don’t even know who you are.”

  He looked at her, gave her a half smile, and said, “You know what matters.”

  “No, I don’t,” she said. “I really don’t.”

  He leaned over, kissed her gently, and said, “Yes, you do. We look after the good guys.”

  “Says you. But how does anybody even know who they are here in this town?”

  He gently traced her lips and whispered, “Sometimes things have to happen in a certain way.”

  She struggled with that. But when she heard another vehicle pull into the long driveway, she frowned. “Your friends?”

  “Yes,” he said. And, sure enough, a group of men arrived. Conversat
ion was short and brief, and she never got to see any of their faces. He grabbed her arm gently and led her to the front door. “It’s better if we’re not here.”

  “Jesus,” she said, reaching up with a trembling hand.

  “It goes on all around you,” he said. “The trick is to be with the good guys.”

  “That line between the good guys and the bad guys,” she whispered, “it’s getting mighty thin.”

  He wrapped an arm around her, held her close, and whispered, “Not that thin, I promise. Now, can I walk you home?”

  She nodded slowly. “Are you going back to the bed-and-breakfast?”

  “I don’t think your aunt and uncle want us anywhere near there at this point,” he said.

  “Well, my place isn’t fabulous, but you’re welcome to a couch,” she said.

  Eton joined them just then. “I’m good. I’ll head back to the B&B,” he said. “You go with her and make sure she’s safe.” And, with that, the three parted.

  “What did he mean by that?” she asked.

  “Part of this cop’s job—of guarding the house—would have been to send photos to Tristan,” he said. “Almost everybody would have wanted photos. It’s one of the reasons I really wanted to see those electronics.”

  “And was he sending photos?”

  “He was transmitting, from bugs inside the house. And out. So, the photos were being sent, but we don’t know who was receiving them.”

  “Will this team be able to find out?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Or that’s the hope anyway.”

  “Jesus.” They walked in silence. “I don’t know if you should be staying with me tonight.”

  “Why?” he asked. “Are you worried about being alone with me?”

  “They would have seen both me and you at Morgan’s house. So chances are, we’ll still be under attack.”

  “Which is why I’m coming,” he said. “I want to make sure that you’re not alone.”

  “It’s not so much about being alone,” she said sadly. “It’s just—nobody’s ever safe, are they?”

  “In many ways, no,” he said. “So you have to go about your day, hoping that you’re one of the 99 percent of the population who has nothing to do with this kind of life.”

  “Right.” She shook her head. “What got you into this business?”

  “I went into the military to serve,” he said. “After so many years, I’d had enough of all the rules and regulations. I had a good friend who was working for Bullard, so I joined his team. So, you know what they call a mercenary?”

  She frowned at that. “I don’t think that’s a very nice word.”

  “I’m definitely not a mercenary,” he said. “I am, however, a security specialist.” As they walked toward her apartment, he said, “And I sure don’t see any security in this place at all.”

  She shrugged. “It’s a small town. Nothing ever happens here.”

  “Yeah? How do you feel about that now?” he asked, with a half laugh.

  “I feel like nothing will ever be the same again,” she said quietly. She motioned at the front door and said, “Come on in. Nothing fancy.”

  They went inside, and, when she opened the door, he asked, “Was it even locked?”

  “Yes,” she said, “but it’s not much of a lock.”

  He walked in, did a quick search of the space. “Looks like the place could use more than a better lock.”

  “Not while I’m paying my aunt and uncle to look after my father,” she said sadly. “I don’t make a ton of money doing what I do. Any extra money I have, I’ve been putting into research on my father’s condition.”

  “Any luck with that?”

  “No,” she said. “But we don’t have the facilities or the grant money for the type of work that really needs to be done.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” he whispered.

  “It’s a form of dementia,” she said. “I just don’t know what form it is.”

  “That can make it tough too.”

  “Indeed,” she said. “But it is what it is.” She motioned to the bedroom. “I have spare blankets for you,” she said and disappeared into her bedroom. She snagged two blankets and a pillow for him and returned. She dropped them on the couch.

  “So, that house you pointed out earlier, that was your family home?”

  “Yeah. Though I’m just as glad it’s gone. It’s always been a sore subject to Aunt Migi. My whole life, she was offended because it was bigger and better than her own, in her eyes. And this apartment is what I can reasonably afford right now. You would probably be more comfortable at the bed-and-breakfast, where you’d have a real bed.”

  He looked at her and said, “But you’ll sleep better if I’m here.”

  She looked at him in surprise, then shrugged. “Yes, it’s been a disturbing evening.” She stopped in the middle of the room. Not sure what to do.

  “Go. Get ready for bed,” he said, his voice soothing and gentle. “I’ll be fine here.” He sat down on the couch and tested it.

  She laughed, wiping at her eyes. “It’s not built for somebody your size.”

  “Furniture is rarely built for anyone my size.” He looked up at her. “Go on to bed. Do you have to work tomorrow?”

  “No,” she said, “I’m not working for a couple more days.” After that she headed into the bathroom—the only one in her apartment. It had two doors, so guests could access it via the hallway, but she could privately enter it from her bedroom. She felt weird locking the one door now, sharing her bathroom with a man. Shaking her head at that thought, she quickly brushed her teeth and washed her face. When she was in her pajamas, she unlocked the hall door, went back into her bedroom, where she called out to him from behind her bedroom door, “The bathroom is all yours.”

  She went into her bedroom, closed the door, curled up in her bed, and closed her eyes. She wondered how one would turn off all the nastiness she had seen today. It was one thing to be shot at by an old drunk, but it was quite another to be shot at because she was at Morgan’s house and his bad-seed sons had set some sort of an alarm. But then to find her sister there and to know that she’d been there for months, it was really just too much.

  She didn’t even know if she could cry or grieve; it was such a shock still. And maybe that was a better way to put it. Maybe it was best that she couldn’t yet because it was just so much. It was hard to find any kind of closure, when there were no answers. Having no answers really didn’t help. She frowned as she waited for sleep to claim her.

  She heard Cain moving around the apartment, but it all seemed to be so quiet and so simple out there. How did he live in a world so chaotic, while the rest of them were just barely hanging on? It seemed like there were no answers for anybody. And it seemed that way because it was that way. He was right; just go about your day, and hope nothing was going on in your space that would bring you into something like this. A scary thought but definitely something to keep in mind. Finally she closed her eyes, and, after several long heavy sighs, she drifted off to sleep.

  *

  Out in the living room Cain could almost tell when Petra drifted off to sleep. It was almost as if a sense of peacefulness came from her bedroom. It was disturbing to see just how in sync they were because she didn’t seem to have the same sense about it that he did. Or she simply wasn’t in tune with it enough to realize they had a connection. She would probably put it all down to the craziness in her world right now. And, to a certain extent, she would be right.

  But there was more to it than that, and he couldn’t keep himself from asking if she would ever leave the area. He couldn’t see himself staying in a place like this. And, after all was said and done, he doubted anybody would want them around. Not long-term.

  Her father, on the other hand, was another issue entirely. Cain could really appreciate the fact that she had looked after him, even trying to do research geared for him. That alone might be enough to keep her heading in another direction, so she could d
o more research. He didn’t know though. She seemed to be pretty stuck on staying close to him.

  Cain was stretched out, as best he could on the couch, wondering how he would get through the night without kinking his back, when Eton called from the B&B. When he answered his phone, Cain asked, “What’s up?”

  “We’ve got the ambulance here,” he said, his voice calm and steady.

  “What happened?” Cain asked, as he bolted to his feet.

  “The father, he appears to have passed away.”

  “What? Just like that?”

  “Yeah. Just like that. Apparently that can happen, but what do I know? The only death in my world tends to be violent.”

  “Jesus, she just got to sleep.”

  “There’s nothing she can do,” he said, “but she probably won’t appreciate it if you don’t wake her up.”

  “Yet what can she do?” He knew she wouldn’t like it but decided not to tell her right away. “Are they taking him to the hospital?”

  “Yes,” he said. “She’ll see him tomorrow morning most likely.”

  “For a chance to say goodbye, you mean? Yeah. What about the aunt and uncle?”

  “They’re pretty upset, lots of tears and a lot of—caterwauling, I would say. But I have to wonder if they really cared or if it’s mostly about the steady income.”

  “That must be the brutally honest outlook we’ve gained from our constant exposure to the seedier side of life,” he said, “because I had the same thought. Sad, isn’t it?”

  “Well, it’s pretty hard to make a living here, and, although they may have hated it, that is the reality that has kept them going.”

  “And there was obviously some bad blood between the branches of this family. So it’s hard to say what they’ll do now.” Cain sighed. “I think I’ll leave it be for now,” he said. “I’ll tell her in the morning.”

  “If she’s not already been wakened by somebody contacting her,” Eton warned.

  “True enough, but let’s see if we can get her at least a few hours of sleep.” And, with that, he hung up.

  He just couldn’t imagine what this would do to her, especially knowing how focused she was on trying to find a cure for him. She’d been through a lot already, and tonight had to have been terribly hard for somebody who didn’t have any exposure to the type of violence that Cain lived with on a regular basis. It’s not that he wanted to, but somebody had to because, as far as he saw, a world full of bad guys always meant there was a world full of honorable men, who wanted to do something good to help out. Trouble was, there always seemed to be more assholes than the good guys, and that just sucked. He sat up and pulled his phone toward him and sent off emails, looking for more answers.