Brain Storm (A Taylor Morrison Novel Book 1)

by Cat Gilbert

  “Got him!” Trinity yelled into my earpiece. “What do I do now? This is so much fun! I can’t believe I pay you to do stuff like this!”

  For crying out loud! What was wrong with her?

  “Trinity, you don’t pay me to be followed,” I informed her, keeping my eyes out for the BMW. I wanted to make sure he was following me and hadn’t noticed Trinity. I caught sight of him changing lanes, three cars back. So far, so good. “You pay me to do research, sit for hours on a computer, make phone calls and talk to people. This is not part of the job. This is something else. This is dangerous.”

  Silence met me on the other end of line. I thought we’d lost the connection for a second, but then she came on. “You’re right. What was I thinking? Someone is following you. That can’t be good. What do we do now?”

  “Just give me the plate and then get back to your office. I’m going to lose this guy and then I’ll have the plates run and call you. You okay?”

  “I’m good. Be careful. And don’t forget to call me.”

  I felt better as soon as we hung up knowing that Trinity was out of the picture. If I was being followed, I needed to find out why and quickly. Knowledge was everything. Ignorance could get you killed.

  IN THE END, I decided the easiest way to lose the tail was to go to the police station. It’s someplace I would go normally and what tail is going to risk being made at the police station? Not this one, I hoped and sure enough, I watched as he rolled right past the entrance while I parked the Tank.

  I grabbed the coffee, seeing no sense in letting it go to waste, and hustled myself inside. I know a lot of the guys at Little Rock PD and doing the type of work I do gets me in the door. The fact that I stay out of trouble, do a decent job, try not to break the law and am on their side of putting the bad ones away, means they help me whenever they can.

  “Jonas in?” I called out, and got three hands all pointing to the back of the station and along with a couple of grunts. Little Rock has more than its fair share of crime and the station was a busy place. With a recent high-profile murder, I knew the timing wasn’t good for me to show up, but then again, I was a citizen, they were the police and I had a plate number.

  I shoved through the door and headed back toward the offices where Jonas was likely to be. I knew most of the force by sight, but Jonas and I had touched base on a couple of cases in the past years and I was comfortable working with him. Technically a detective, Jonas Hill was the type of cop you wanted around when things went bad. Big, and by that I mean BIG, black and mean looking. Jonas looked like he could take care of himself and any trouble that came along. The first time I met him, was on a case where the father had kidnapped his own daughter. The Dad had been abusing the girl and the Mother had sole custody. Dad decided to take matters into his own hands, which in turn had instigated an Amber alert and a three state hunt. Trinity had filed the criminal papers on dear old Dad so I was asked in when the kidnapping occurred. Jonas made the mistaken assumption I was working for the defense at first and until we got it straightened out, we had some bad moments. Once he found out I was on his side of the investigation, things settled right down. We ended up working quite well together. Jonas had good instincts and I tried to keep out of his way as much as possible. I think he liked me. At the very least he tolerated me. He had been there when Keith was killed, keeping me informed and explaining the process. He was one of the good guys. Big and scary, but a good guy. Which I tried to remind myself of, when he scowled up at me.

  “What?” He glanced up when I entered his office and immediately went back to writing the report on his desk. He was busy and I decided to cut right to the chase, sure he would appreciate it.

  “I need a plate run.”

  “Why?” He quit writing and sat with the pen poised above the paper, waiting.

  “I picked up a tail today. Black BMW 325i.” That got his attention. He looked up, meeting my eyes with a questioning look. Having worked on Keith’s case, he knew the car make and model. Knew that it was never found. I was sure he noticed it each time he saw one, just like I did. My request to run a plate on that particular car and one that was tailing me no less, had him raising his eyebrows.

  He pulled out a request sheet and motioned for me to sit down. I filled him in on the details while he wrote out the information. After he had gotten the ball rolling he leaned back in his chair and looked me in the eye.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” he demanded. “What cases you working on.”

  “Just one. For Trinity Davis. A child support case. Everything else is wrapped up unless someone got out lately I don’t know about.”

  He snorted at this. Like I said, I fly pretty far under the radar and like it that way, for this very reason. The bad guys don’t need to know who got the goods on them. Just that the goods have been got and they are in trouble. I could count the number of people who knew what I did on one hand. A revenge scenario was highly unlikely and Jonas knew it.

  “How come you’re twitchy?”

  Twitchy? What’s that supposed to mean? I shrugged and gave the “what are you talking about” gesture, which he figured out pretty quick.

  “Twitchy. Scattered. Frayed. What aren’t you telling me?”

  Like I said, instincts. Jonas has them oozing out of his skin. He learned back in his chair, stretching his tee shirt tight across his chest and closed one eye, pinning me down with the other. On some guys that look would probably come off as a flirt or showing off. On Jonas however, it is the I am big and tough and I know you’re withholding information, don’t make me hurt you look. He did it well.

  “I had a bad day yesterday. An altercation down at the coffee shop by the condo. Spilled coffee, accusations, that type of thing.” I might have to talk, but I didn’t have to tell him everything. “And no, I don’t know the guy, didn’t get a name, and don’t see that it has anything to do with this. I just don’t like confrontations and it rattled me a little.”

  I was saved from any further rattling on by the return of the officer with the information on the plates, which he handed to Jonas.

  “Stolen.” Jonas slapped the form down on the desk. “When did you loose him?”

  “Just now, when I turned in here. He drove by out front.” Jonas rose and pulled open his drawer to get his gun.

  “Stay here,” he ordered. Holstering his gun, he called out for some assistance and four other officers followed him out the door.

  Twenty minutes later he was back, none the wiser and not any too happy about it. There had been no sign of the car. I could leave, but was to let him know if I was followed again or noticed anything strange. He was putting out an all points and would have a car drive by the condo tonight on a regular basis.

  Great, I thought as I headed out the door. Doesn’t that put you at ease? Could be a long night and it’s not like I had gotten much sleep the night before. I needed to call Trinity and let her know what was going on. I also needed to tell her to watch her back. I didn’t know why I was tailed, but Trinity had been with me and there was a possibility she may have picked up a tail too. She needed to pay attention. I headed home, taking some comfort in the thought that Jonas was on the case and keeping an eye on things, all the while knowing that I would spend the night up watching for the phantom BMW.

  SIX

  I GLANCED UP as the door happily chimed that another customer had entered. There had been a steady stream of coffee drinkers all morning, but so far, Denzel hadn’t showed. I went back to the newspaper, I hadn’t been reading. This was my third day on stake out and I was on about my fifth cup of coffee of the morning. I was going to have to make a break for the bathroom soon and hope that Denzel didn’t show up while I was occupied.

  Things had been quiet since my eventful day on Tuesday. I had headed home from the police station and called Trinity, somehow convincing her to keep an eye without scaring her to death. After I checked the locks, and set the alarm, I’d made myself a cheese omelet and a big pot of coffee and
prepared for the long night ahead. Looking out the window I caught sight of the patrol car as he drove slowly by, ensuring that for that night, at least, the bad people knew this street was being watched.

  Frustrated with the loss of a day to work on the case, I had settled in on the sofa to go over plans for the next day. At some point I must have fallen asleep because I woke up the next morning to the ringing of my cell phone. It was Jonas calling to tell me they had found the car and it had been wiped clean of prints. Another bad sign. I checked in with Trinity, hit the shower and then headed out for the first day of stake out at my coffee shop. Since the coffee incident, I had avoided going there, but with the lack of any other leads, I had hopes that Denzel would return to the scene of the crime and I could get some information. It was a long shot, but for now, it was all I had.

  It was now Friday and I had shown up the previous two days, coming early, staying late into the morning, and still no Denzel. I had talked to the manager, who was very concerned when I came in. He still felt bad about what happened and gave me a free latte for all my trouble which I gladly accepted, but that was about all I got from him. No, he hadn’t seen the man back in the shop since it happened. No, he didn’t remember him from before. No, he didn’t see where he had gone, or a car or anything else that might have been helpful. Armed with that knowledge, it seemed doubtful that Denzel would show, but I decided to give it a few days since I didn’t have any thing else pending. Plus there was the coffee aspect of it. How often do you get to sit and drink coffee all morning and write it off as a business expense?

  My cell rang. It was the private investigator I had hired in Atlanta to check on my missing nonpaying papa. Bingo! My hunch had paid off. I had talked to some of the “guys” dear old Dad used to hang with. Sometimes you got more information from friends than from family. In this case, the ex-wife was angry and everything she told me was colored with it. I couldn’t blame her, but it’s the little things that often break a case and when someone is angry, it effects what they say. So I like to talk to other “witnesses”. I call them that, because there’s not really a name for them. I need information, so they could be informants, but that has a negative sound to it, so I call them witnesses. They didn’t see a crime, but they did see a life and what they saw is what I need to know.

  My meeting on Tuesday morning was with a drinking buddy of the Dad. Turns out they loved to play darts and drink Guinness. I coupled that with a comment from a previous interview stating that the Dad was a huge Braves fan. I’ve found that white middle/upper class offenders have a tendency to run to someplace familiar, while lower income offenders either stick around the area and lay low or go to ground and vanish into thin air. I put two and two together, hoped they added up to four and risked Trinity’s money on an investigator in Atlanta. I’d e-mailed him a photo to flash around in bars or pubs that had darts and sold Guinness. The guy had had enough time on the lam to find a neighborhood bar, if that’s where he was. My gamble paid off. I told the investigator to stay put and I’d call him later with instructions. I needed to let Trinity know he’d been located and arrange for the paperwork for the police to pick him up. Smiling with satisfaction, I checked my watch and decided enough was enough. I’d hit the bathroom and hit the road.

  I had just stood up to stretch my weary coffee laden bones when I saw him. Denzel was here, but not in the coffee shop. He was getting into a car parked in the lot, a little east from the front door. He wasn’t parked where I would park. There were plenty of spaces up near the doors of the stores, but he was parked two to three rows out near a handful of other cars, which more than likely belonged to the employees. From my vantage point, I couldn’t get the make on the car but it looked like he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, as he seemed to be settling in. I turned away, not wanting him to look up and find me watching him, and started picking up my mess. Okay, let’s think about this. Denzel is here, but not drinking coffee. He hadn’t come in all morning. He’s not shopping, he didn’t have a bag and he’s not in a store. He’s sitting out there in his car.

  I could just go out there and ask him what he was doing, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like the answer. Instead, I headed into the bathroom and placed a call to Jonas. Then I remembered the five coffees and why I was heading into the bathroom in the first place and decided to care of business while the opportunity was there. Once Jonas got here, who knew when I would get another chance.

  As I was washing up, I couldn’t help but wonder if the whole time I had been waiting for Denzel, he’d been watching me? Maybe Denzel, the coffee, and the BMW that was tailing me were connected. But how? I checked my watch again. Five minutes had gone by since I had called Jonas. My guess was, in about another 5-10 minutes we’d have a good chance of getting some answers.

  I headed out of the bathroom, stopped at the counter and ordered another coffee. Settling back into my seat, I arranged my news paper, took a big sip of latte and waited for the show to begin.

  I didn’t have to wait for long. I glanced up to see Jonas turn into the parking lot and glide slowly into a space a few cars down from the shop. I could easily see him through the front window as he did a quick check in the rear view mirror and then gave me a nod from his seat behind the wheel. He’d seen him.

  Watching him unbuckle his seatbelt, I suddenly had chills run down my spine. Something was going on. I quickly looked around the shop to see if anyone was moving in a threatening manner, someone who might be hooked up with Denzel. Nothing was out of place, no one stood out. As I watched Jonas reach for his door though, my heart started to pound and I felt the adrenaline begin to surge through me. Something was wrong. Something was WAY wrong. I leapt to my feet, ran toward the door and watched in horror as Denzel’s car door opened and I saw the gun.

  “Get down!” I shouted the warning, not knowing if Jonas could hear me through the glass, but it didn’t matter. He could see me and my panic, and he was ducking down even as he turned to see where the danger lay. I flung the door open and saw the gun level at Jonas. He was moving fast to shelter, but I knew it would be too late. Denzel had a clear shot.

  “No!” I screamed, as I surged toward the car and the gun, my hands outstretched, not thinking of anything but stopping Denzel from killing Jonas. I’d barely taken two steps out of the shop when suddenly, the car door flew inward, knocking the gun upward just as the shot rang out, crushing Denzel between the seat and door frame. I barely had registered the sound of glass shattering behind me when Jonas hit me, taking me down in flying tackle that knocked the breath right out of me. We hit hard, my head bouncing off the walkway and I laid there stunned, unable to breathe, trapped under his weight. I heard the squeal of tires through my gasps for air and had to assume it was Denzel making a break for it, as I couldn’t see through Jonas’ chest.

  At that point, I really didn’t care, as long as he was gone. I was too busy trying to get some air moving through my lungs. Jonas was apparently in better shape than I was, because suddenly he was up and running. With his weight suddenly gone, air blissfully surged into me, and I rolled over to see him racing past the parked cars, gun drawn, in pursuit. He never stood a chance. Human versus car, the human loses every time, no matter the contest. The truth of that statement, didn’t make it any easier to accept and I watched in frustration as Denzel careened onto the street and within seconds disappeared from sight.

  Jonas gave me a hard stare as he ran back to his car and reached through the window for the radio. I really couldn’t blame him. At best, this had been a complete mess. One that could have easily ended in disaster. I slowly got to my feet, brushing the parking lot dirt off my hands and clothes. Looking around me, I realized how lucky we’d been. The store window behind me had a bullet hole near the top. The glass was cracked and shattered, but thankfully, was still in place.

  I was scraped and dirty. My head hurt and was bleeding from the contact with the concrete and my clothes were a bit torn up, but that was to be expected when y
ou got thrown around by a guy the size of Jonas, I guess. All in all, not too bad, all things considered. I could already hear the sirens, as cars were dispatched in pursuit of Denzel, others screaming toward us in response to the distress call. My eyes finally came to rest on Jonas, who was standing at his car, hands resting on the hood, watching me, clearly unhappy.

  Surprised, I found myself shaking a little. The thought that I had nearly gotten Jonas killed had my throat closing up and I felt a little dizzy. I took a deep breath and decided I needed to sit back down.

  “Put your head between your knees and breathe deep.” It was Jonas whispering in my ear, squatting down next to me. I felt his huge hand on the back of my neck pushing my head forward.

  “I’m sorry, Jonas, I’m so sorry,” I mumbled as I tried to take in air.

  “Stay here. Don’t talk to anyone. I’ll be back,” he said tersely. The weight of his hand disappeared from my neck, but it was the gentle squeeze of his hand on my shoulder as he moved away was almost my undoing.

  The cavalry arrived and I could hear Jonas issuing orders and securing the area. The deep breathing helped and I raised my head up to see what was going on. The police were moving people into groups and working around me, taping off the area in front of the shop. The people from inside the shop were clustered by the door and I saw the manager motioning to me. When he realized I wasn’t getting up, he slowly opened the door and skittered through, keeping an eye on the police and the shattered window that was still somehow managing to stay in place. Bending down, he, handed me a coffee.

  “Here,” he said. “I thought you might need this.” He shoved it into my hand and hurried back inside before he was told to by the police officer, who was headed in our direction. I took a sip of the coffee and realized he had rescued my latte from the table where I had left it. Caffeine was probably the last thing I needed, but I did feel better with the familiar feel of the cup in my hand. I slowly stood up and finding myself much steadier, moved over to my car, which was now inside the taped off crime scene area. Leaning against the car door, I watched as Jonas took control of the situation, directing the responding officers and doing his job so efficiently and calmly, that was difficult to remember that just a short time ago, someone had been trying to kill him. I shivered at the memory of how close it had been and took another sip of coffee, trying to shake it off. He’d been kept occupied as the police arrived, but I knew eventually, Jonas would work his way around to me. He would have questions and I needed to have some answers regarding Denzel. Ones he’d believe. I needed to be calm, cool and convincing when my time came. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have to wait long.