For one, he'd never really been caught like that before. Mostly because he was the one that usually did the catching. And second…why weren't they able to verify who he was?
He thought about Detective Inzmann.
Cecelia.
It was a name he loved to think about.
He recalled the look in her eyes, the set of jaw. She was having trouble with the events too. He was sure of it. But would she be able to help him?
Would she?
It was a long shot. He'd used his one call to the company lawyer and left a message with the secretary. But so far, nearly twelve hours later, no call back, and no sign of the lawyer.
He had a bad, bad feeling.
Just as the handcuff snapped off, the outer door clanged open. He remained where he was, faking being handcuffed to the bench. He heard footsteps echoing on the concrete floor. Who ever they were, they were wearing dress shoes…mens…not high heels. Those gave a different clack.
"Hello?" he called out. Maybe it was his lawyer? "Anyone there?"
The uniformed officer that locked him up came into view. Just behind him was a short man in a suit—
And a hoodie.
"No Mister Phantom," the familiar voice box said. "There is no one there."
Thomas couldn't breathe. Damn! This guy was in the police precinct? The officer's stiff back was a good signal the Phantom had a gun in his back. Thomas tossed the handcuff away and went to the bars. "Let him go, Phantom. This is apparently between you and me."
"I have no intention of carrying my purpose any further." The Phantom kept his profile turned to Thomas as he took a step back and raised the gun.
"No!" Thomas yelled.
He reached through the bar and tried to grab for the Phantom. Thomas managed to grab the guy's arm before he fired. But the bullet still dropped the officer where he stood.
The Phantom turned and fired the gun at Thomas. He felt the impact and tumbled back.
Thomas lay on the floor, panting, still refusing to believe this was really happening. He looked up at the mask. His vision blurred a few times but he managed to stay awake. "What do you want? Why are you doing this?"
"I told you. You became a thorn in my side. You needed to be put down."
"So you stole my identity?"
"For starters." There was a pause. "Now I am here to steal your life."
Thomas wasn't sure if he'd received a fatal shot. It hurt worse in his left shoulder. It burned. And it wasn't hard to breathe. But if Phantom shot him again like this—it could be a fatal blow.
Movement was hard but he had to put it behind him to move. He had seconds to act, and luckily a brain that loved puzzles. He'd seen the officer's gun still in its holster. The Phantom hasn't disarmed him. And it was there…
Just a foot away through the bars.
He had to focus on a goal and the face of Detective Inzmann came back to him. He wanted to see her again, and he wanted more than anything, to prove to her that he wasn't the criminal she believed him to be.
With a deep breath, Thomas rolled to his right and shoved his left hand through the bars just as the Phantom fired again. But Thomas wasn't there anymore and the bullet hit the concrete floor and took a piece of it with it.
His hand wrapped around the grip of the gun and he pulled it out. The safety was on! And it wasn't a left handed gun!
Thomas had to move again to duck out of the way but couldn't get the gun through the bars. The Phantom fired again. The shot went past his head.
He put his hand through the bar and that's when the pain crippled him. He yelled out again as he switched the gun to his right hand, thumbed the safety off and fired at the Phantom. A few of the shots went wild, but one of them struck the target. The voice box amplified the fucker's cry as he went down.
Thomas smiled to himself. The sounds of the officer's gun would bring more cops, and this mother would be caught.
Pounding in the outer door told him the Phantom had locked it when he'd led his captive officer in. Thomas maneuvered the gun into the cell with him and aimed it at the Phantom as the bastard staggered to his feet. The mask was gone, tossed off on the floor, but the face still wasn't visible.
Without a word the Phantom half-stumbled around the downed officer and disappeared into lockup. Thomas wasn't sure if there was another way out that way, but he was sure the Phantom had no intention of being caught. So following him was a good plan.
He put the safety back on, slipped the gun into his back pocket, and then reached through the bars to the officer's belt. He yelped when the cop grabbed his hand. The grip wasn't strong, but it scared the crap out of him.
Thomas looked into the guy's eyes. The cop took in a deep breath. "Catch that…sonofbitch…" and then he relaxed back.
"Oh damn…don't be dead." Thomas found the key and unlocked the cell. He tossed it into the cell and grabbed the officer's spare magazine. When he checked to make sure the man had a pulse. The adrenaline fueling his escape lessoned and he felt a wave of nausea and dizziness nearly take him out.
He stood and looked down at himself. He'd been hit in the right shoulder. He couldn't tell if the bullet went through or not, but he was losing blood, and that was bad. He couldn't afford to go into shock before he got out of there and cleared his name.
Thomas ignored the Phantom's gun—that gun was what shot him and the officer. He wasn't about to touch it. Instead he started off down the lockup in the direction the Phantom had taken.
CHAPTER NINE
Cecelia sat in her car, watching the weather with a critical eye. The overcast cloud cover never burned off and by noon, and now it looked thicker than ever. It was white gray.
And it cold. She checked the thermometer on the car. It registered the outside temp at 32º. Cecelia believed it, with the icy cold in her fingers and toes. All she had with her were her boots, socks and a short jacket. If it snowed—
Eh. She didn't want to think about that nightmare.
The clock turned over 12:00 and Deb's car pulled up a second later. The woman's talent for on time arrivals was unnatural. Last night's after seven entrance had to have been an aberration.
Deb was bundled in a thick coat, gloves and a hat. She looked like the muffin man to Cecelia. But as she got out of the car, she could appreciate her friend's precaution. A gust of wind whipped her hair about and she folded her arms over her chest and ran up the front steps of the house.
"You are going to freeze like that." Deb was such a mother. "You do know it's going to snow. It's already snowing in Alabama."
"Are you saying we have a snow storm coming? In Georgia?"
"Don't give me that look, and point that unibrow somewhere else." Deb glared. "Why are we here?"
Cecelia pulled a key ring from her pocket and cycled through a few keys until she found one that fit the lock.
"Is that legal? Do you have a search warrant?"
"Why do a I need a warrant?" Cecelia pushed the door open and pulled her gun from the back of her jeans. "He gave me the key. Stay here. I'll check it out."
"Why do you have your gun out?" Deb's eyes were wide.
"Just…" Why did she have it? Was it her spidey sense? Was it the look in the guy's eyes, the worry she saw there. Yeah it could be worry about going to jail for the rest of his life, but she thought she saw something else. "Stay here."
Cecelia went inside and followed procedure as she checked behind the door, in the closets, each room, and then upstairs she did the same thing. Once she was sure the house was empty she called out. "Clear!'
"What?"
Oh. Yeah. Right. She always forgot Deb wasn't a cop. She came down the stairs and pulled Deb inside. After locking the door back, she pulled a pair of gloves from her back pocket. "Don't touch anything."
"Cece—what's going on?"
"Deb I honestly don't know. It's just that everything in my bones tells me this guy isn't guilty. That it's all wrong." She started looking through the living room, then the kitchen, with
Deb right behind her.
"Nice house," Deb commented. "You sure it's just not your libido talking? You don't want him to be guilty so you're looking for something to prove he's not?"
Cecelia stopped by the fridge and turned to face Deb. "He told me he had evidence in his car that would prove what he was telling us was the truth. A laptop and a tablet."
"Then why are we in his house?"
"Because of this," she pulled the folded print out of the ID profile for Thomas Carr and handed it to Deb. "The picture's not the same. But all the other evidence says it's him. Look at that address."
Deb did. "That's this address."
Cecelia held up the keys. "He gave me these. And one of them fit the front door."
"I don't get it. Is this Thomas Carr's house?"
"I think it is. But I want to find something in this house that proves the good looking guy in lock up is this Thomas Carr. Then I think I can move forward and get to his car before anybody else. He told me where he parked it."
"Okay so… pictures. There has to be pictures somewhere."
"Which is why I was looking in here." Cecelia turned to the fridge. "Most people leave pictures on their refrigerator. But there's nothing here."
"Bedroom?"
The two of them went upstairs. There were two bedrooms. Deb took the spare and Cecelia took the master. She looked through the night stands, under the bed, in the drawers—but the only thing she found was that who ever lived here was a total neat freak. Everything was folded.
Even his socks!
And he had expensive tastes. She went into his closet and looked at the evenly spaced suits. Nice suits. Exactly like the one he'd been wearing. She put her nose to one of them and inhaled.
It smelled like him!
Oh no…when had she noticed his smell?
She inhaled the next one, and then the next one, until she was at the back of the closet. Cecelia was intoxicated from his scent and felt the old familiar warmth starting between her legs. Damn girl… get a hold of yourself. A smell doesn't prove a thing!
She leaned against the back and looked up at the shelf along the top. Several shoe boxes were stacked above her so she pulled them down and carried them to the bed.
They were full of pictures.
And everyone of them had her Phantom in them. There were older photos of him much younger, with a brunette. Even more of him later on with a blonde.
In fact, it looked like Mr. Carr—as she felt she could call him that now—had been with a variety of babes through the years.
Figures.
The guy was a hottie.
Deb came in and looked at the photos. "Huh…I guess this means he was telling the truth?"
"Yep. This is his house."
"So now you need to get to that car."
A noise downstairs made Deb squeak and Cecelia jump off the bed. She had her gun in her hands as she mouthed for Deb to hide. Deb did as she was told and Cecelia went to the door and listened.
A door slammed shut. She had a good shot of the front door so it had to be the back door. She stood at the top of the stairs and listened as someone made noises in the kitchen and then there was a strange noise—like a moan—then nothing.
Cecelia held her gun out in front of her as she descended the steps quickly. She whipped around to her left and then looked past the steps to the kitchen just visible past the living room.
Someone lay on the floor of the kitchen, and from the look of the shirt and the blood on it, she knew it was "Thomas!"
She was beside him before she could blink. He was on his stomach and blood covered his back. There was so much of it his shirt was sticking to him. She pressed her fingers to his neck and felt a pulse.
"Oh no…" Deb said as she came down the stairs. "I'll call an ambulance."
"No don't…" Cecelia didn't know why she said that. She just felt like he was in danger. They were all in danger.
"But he needs medical help. It looks like he's been shot."
"You're medical help. You look at him and tell me what to do." Her phone rang and she pulled it out of her pocket as she stood. It was the Captain. "Inzmann."
"Cece, I need you back in here. I know you're tired from last night, but I could use you."
"What's wrong?"
"The Phantom escaped, and it looks like he shot someone to do it."
CHAPTER TEN
Thomas came to slowly as he swam through images he wasn't sure were real or memories or something he'd seen on TV.
He could see her…the woman of his dreams. She was bending over him and her hair fell around her face. She was so…lovely…
"Thomas?"
Other images were of someone in a white mask. The mask came off the floor and covered his face. He could feel it sticking to his skin, becoming a part of him. And there was laughter. A lot of laughter.
"Thomas…I need you to look at me if you can hear me."
He heard a woman's voice through the laughter and focused on it. When he moved past the mask and the images of his dream woman, dressed in a little black dress with a gun in her hand, he opened his eyes.
But what he saw wasn't his dream woman. He did recognize her though. He cleared his throat. "You're the woman in blue."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You were wearing blue last night. You were with the angel in black."
The blue woman smirked. It was a cute look. Then she shined something in his eyes. "I need you to look straight ahead."
"Ow."
"Now the other one….good. You're stabilizing, Mr. Carr. So I need you to remain still for now, okay? You lost a lot of blood."
Mr. Carr. He watched her turn her attention to something just out of sight. He also recognized the ceiling in his bedroom. "I'm home…and you called me Carr."
"Yes. Apparently Cecelia's gut was right—this is your house and you are Thomas Carr. Finger prints don't lie. Especially when I do them myself."
He refocused on her. "You do them?" He started to move but she put a hand firm hand on his chest. "Ow…again."
"You were shot through your shoulder. Bullet went through you. Looks like it nicked your collar bone and tore a lot of muscle on the way out. Close range?"
"You could say that."
"You see who shot you?"
"He was wearing a white mask."
"Kinky." She held up a syringe and pushed some of the clear liquid up through the needle. When she pointed it at him, he protested. "Sshh, ya big baby. It's just tetanus. I was able to access your medical records." She slipped the needle in.
Thomas didn't feel a thing. Awesome? "What are you?"
"Medical Examiner. Dekalb County."
He took stock of his condition as he raised his head—only as high as he could without pain. He was in his bed like he thought. He was also nude beneath the sheets and his right shoulder was bandaged and his right arm was strapped to his side. This was going to make shooting difficult. "Did you take my clothes off?"
"No." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Cecelia did."
"She—" his eyes widened. "She did?"
The blue woman Medical Examiner smiled down at him. "You like her."
"That obvious, huh?"
"Yeah. But before you put any moves on her, you'd better help her solve this. Cause she's putting a lot on the line."
Thomas tried again to struggle into a sitting position. This time she helped him. But of course, he got a little dizzy. "Whoa."
"Blood loss. Happens." She pursed her lips. "So did you shoot Officer Maddox?"
"Officer…" then he remembered the uniformed cop. "Oh no…no. The Phantom did."
"So it was the Phantom that shot him, and you."
"Yes."
"And you got out."
"Yes. I followed the Phantom. There's a…small access conduit in the back of the lockup. It was tight…but I got into it and then sort of slid down to the bottom." He winced with memory. "Abrupt stop."
"Explains the bump on your head."
The blue woman Medical Examiner stood up. She was dressed in a nice pants suit with a pass key and ID on a lanyard around her neck. "Yes. He'll be okay. He was lucky. This Phantom actually split ribs, missed the back bone. No vital organs but one hell of a recovery period."
"Good, good." He narrowed his eyes at the badge. "Deborah Proctor. Nice to meet you."
"Hold up the friendly till Cecelia gets back." She turned and started cleaning up the nightstand.
He recognized his First Aid kit next to a black bag. "You come prepared?"
"Always. Cecelia's my best friend. And she's always getting hurt. Hates hospitals." She laughed. "Last time she was put in one was after she was shot. She woke up and they caught her outside trying to get a taxi—in her hospital gown—exposing her ass to the world."
Thomas laughed and then tried not too—oh man that hurt. Why would laughter hurt his shoulder? But the question was replaced with the vision of Cecelia Inzmann in anything backless.
Oh, bad thought. All that did was make a pup-tent.
Deb noticed it and snickered. "You really do have a hard on for her—literally."
Thomas grabbed a pillow and put it on his crotch. "Where is she?"
"Precinct. They called her in after you escaped. She and I were proving that this was your address and she was going to go see who would have access to change the picture of you in the database. Those kinds of things can be traced pretty easy."
"Did she find my car?"
"Not yet. That was our next move until you fell into the kitchen." She had her bag packed and picked it up. "I'll leave you to get dressed."
Before she left the room the front door opened and Cecelia called out. "Hey!"
"I'm coming down!" Deb said and then looked around. "I think I left my coat in your spare bedroom. Excuse me." She left the room and closed the door.
Thomas slid over to the side of the bed with one arm—and not the arm he usually used—and swung his legs over. He put the pillow away and looked down at his betrayer.
December Frost (A Southern Romance Monthly) Page 4