“We’re tracking,” Adam confirmed, his voice as monotone as Burke’s.
“We’re going after the target,” Burke said.
“Understood. Orders?”
“Stay with the cop. You never know where that might lead.”
“Understood.”
Silence
“Burke?” Will Burton said.
“Yeah?”
“How could we have missed her?”
“We were sloppy,” Burke replied. “Next time we torch a house, I guess we need to make sure somebody’s home.”
* * *
Lisa drove around for a while. She circled several blocks, trying to discourage anyone that might be following her. She didn’t see anyone, but caution had become her best friend in the few minutes.
She wanted to go directly to Alex’s house, but she thought better of it. Something was happening and she couldn’t bear to risk Alex’s life over something she did not understand.
Still, she thought, what if these men weren’t who they said? What did they want with her, aside from Tina? More importantly, what did they want with Tina? A lump swelled in her throat. She thought about the gun. The weapon had not been FBI issue. In the dim light of her patio, she couldn’t be sure, but it resembled a German-made HK. If these men were who they said they were, Lisa – and Tina – had a chance. If not, Lisa could only guess what was in store and she didn’t like the images her overactive imagination was conjuring.
What if they knew about Alex? They most likely did. How desperate were these men? Were they so desperate to get to Tina that they’d actually hurt Lisa by going through Alex?
In a confused fog, only one thing had any logic. Tina. Lisa didn’t know her story, but she knew one thing. Whatever that story involved, it now involved herself and her partner. Whoever those men were, they were after Tina. And it was up to Lisa to make sure they did not find her first. Whatever they wanted, Lisa suddenly determined they would not get their hands on it.
At Green Street, she made a right and pulled up next to the curb, next to a house in which not so much as a night light seemed to be on.
She stopped, turned the cool air up to full blast. She felt nauseated and wasn’t even sure why. Worry had consumed her. She’d lost the ability to be a cop. She’d lost her training. She’d lost her grip on reality. She’d lost her nerve. She wanted to cry but sat unable. If nothing else, she managed to take solace in the fact that she had not yet broken. At least not completely.
“Tina,” she whispered to herself, “where in the world are you?”
She sighed to herself, tilted her head back.
“What in the world are you?”
A knock on her window ended her impromptu interrogation of no one in particular.
She shrieked.
* * *
Dried blood was still on Jason’s bedroom carpet when James entered. He wasn’t sure why he was there. To gather his thoughts? To gather up memories? Or maybe to soak in everything he could of the small trinkets that remained of his dead brother, Jason. James tried not to look at the blood on the carpet, but it didn’t really matter. The blood was in his mind. No matter how tightly he closed his eyes, no matter how loudly he had played music. No matter how drunk he could have gotten. Noting would erase the images of his brother’s blood-soaked hospital bed. The same blood he had not yet washed off his own hands. Tears, blood and saliva mixed on his grief-stricken face.
“Jason,” he sobbed. It was the only thing he could vocalize in his drunken haze that enveloped him. It was the summation of all his pain, anger, sorrow and regret.
He fell beside Jason’s bed and buried his face in a stuffed dog that was half hidden amongst the blankets. James remembered winning the dog for Jason at the fair. Jason must have been about five or six at the time. What was the dog’s name?
He couldn’t remember.
He could remember Jason’s face when that last baseball stayed in the basket though. The excitement.
“I want that one!” he’d screamed. And so that was the one he got.
“James, you’re my best friend.”
The words echoed from the past, Jason’s tiny voice near singing the words.
“Me?”
“Well,” Jason had remarked. “Next to Mr. Wrinkles.”
“Mr. Wrinkles,” Jason sobbed, playing out the day in his mind. He stroked the stuffed dog’s tattered head. “Hello, Mr. Wrinkles. Remember Me?”
He had to tell somebody how he was feeling. At least he knew Mr. Wrinkles would listen. It was, after all, Mr. Wrinkles’ loss too.
* * *
Lisa shrieked and reached for the gun she had placed in the passenger seat just moments before. Her window was fogged over, so she was forced to roll it down slightly. When she’d rolled it down several inches, a face she didn’t recognize appeared in front of her.
“You okay, Miss?” the old man asked. He was probably in his late 70’s. Balding and extraordinarily gaunt. Almost skeletal, from what she could tell. The flannel robe wrapped around him did little to hide his emaciated frame.
“No sir,” Lisa said, pulling her badge out of her purse. “Police business. Please return to your home.”
She hoped the guy would fear the badge just enough to move on. With only a slight look of disbelief, the old man turned and walked toward his house. Lisa found herself amazed that such a frail looking individual had such a brisk stride about him. She left her window down slightly and pulled away, just as the old man was entering his house.
Thinking of Tina, she found herself overwrought with frustration.
To the night air, she growled.
“I really don’t need this!”
CHAPTER 19
BUSINESS
Lisa pulled onto Alex’s street. She wasn’t sure how she could convince him not to put a Nationwide APB out on Tina, but she knew she would not be able to find the girl alone. That and being increasingly spooked by the thought of the FBI agents – whether they were real or fake – that had appeared at her front door, something inside her shivered, inconsolable. She needed a cooler head and Alex would have to suffice, despite Lisa feeling certain he would not be as cool as she wanted.
She felt truly vulnerable for the first time in a long time. As she neared Alex’s house, she thought of her recent suspension. She thought about the young kid whose death had led to her recent “vacation” from police work. She thought about Jason Brenton. Her mind flashed to and fro with the events of the last couple of days. The Star Club, Tina, the fire. In her mind, she suspected it was tied together somehow. But how?
“How do the deaths of four unrelated boys tie into Tina’s house burning to the ground?” she asked herself out loud.
She had no answers, but she knew who would. And Lisa was desperate to find her.
“Alex,” Lisa sighed as she pulled into his driveway, “please be home.”
* * *
She became acutely aware that she was being followed. She saw nobody conspicuous in her rearview mirror, but she knew somebody was trailing her. Her insides shook.
“Easy, Baby,” she whispered. “I’ve got everything under control.”
She turned down several back alleys, switched lanes on the main road repeatedly and backtracked her course more than twice. Still, she could not shake the knowledge that she was being followed.
“They’ve bugged my car,” she thought to herself. She knew better than to think she’d have time to search for the transmitter, but she had to do something. This wasn’t his work, but somebody was on to her. Were they there to help or stop her? Why bug her car if they’re there to help? She considered pulling over and stealing the next car she found, but she knew that anyone trailing her wouldn’t be far enough behind for that.
She’d have to improvise.
“Whoever you are,” she sighed, glancing in her rearview, “please don’t make me hurt you.”
She pulled onto the shoulder, watching her rearview mirror. In the distance, she saw a blue Ch
evy Celebrity mirror her act, some two blocks back.
“There you are,” she hissed, a little relieved. A little too excited.
Well, I’m sorry to do this, Fellas, but I’ve got work to do and you’ll only get in my way.
She raised her hand into the air. Inside the car, the radio switched stations, squelched, went to static and finally shut itself off. The air conditioner kicked on, off and back on again. The tachometer revved a couple times, though her foot was not on the accelerator. Her passenger seat rattled, shook as if trying to free itself from whatever held it in place.
A light yellowish-brown glow filled her car. Behind her, she heard the sedan’s engine cry for help.
“There,” she whispered, as the glow faded. “That ought to hold you for a while.
* * *
“What the…”
Burke’s computer screen went crazy. Figures of all shapes, sizes and colors danced fitfully as the hi-tech electronic device struggled to hang on to its intrinsic life.
Beside Burke, Will Burton sat watching the subject ahead of them. It was dark, but Burke was sure Will had a pretty decent view of everything he needed to see. The sun was starting to peek its head out from behind the night sky. Soon, she would be much easier to track.
Burke shook the small laptop, opened it, closed it. Finally rebooted the entire system.
The bang was so close, the shock rattled Burke’s chest. It shook the car so violently that, for a split second, Burke thought he and Will were the victims of a car bomb or some sort of incendiary device. Best case, a sniper with horrible aim. Beside him, Will cursed, drew his gun.
“No!” Burke shouted, grabbing at Burke’s other arm.
Will cursed again.
“What’s the matter?” Burked asked, searching the dark night, wondering if Burke had been hit by a bullet neither man had seen.
“She’s gone!”
In the next second, their car sat idle. Everything around them grew quiet. Burke looked at the computer screen.
“We’re still tracking her,” he said, smiling.
“Lot of good it does us!”
* * *
It was nearly five a.m. when Lisa pulled into Alex’s driveway. He was up. The light in the living room gave him away. She parked her car behind his, turned off the ignition and darted full speed to his front door, making sure to grab her side arm from the seat before exiting her car.
She beat on the door and rang the bell incessantly, less out of fear than urgency. When he opened the door, Lisa was surprised to find Alex fully dressed, hair brushed, appearance fully polished.
“Lisa,” his voice was somber, deeper than usual.
“We’ve got to talk,” she said.
“We sure do.”
CHAPTER 20
ESCAPE
“What did he die of?” Lisa asked, still in shock at the news of Detective Wilkes’ passing.
“Doctor said it was a massive brain hemorrhage.”
“Just massive brain hemorrhage?” Lisa asked. “No cause? No trauma? The brain doesn’t just bleed from a late night of heavy reading, does it?”
“Well there’s no foul play suspected right now,” Alex told her. “But it hasn’t been ruled out either. Doctors said that it looked like his heart just gave out and the brain fought back by bursting.”
“That makes zero sense,” Lisa said, suddenly dumbstruck. She wasn’t sure if Alex was ready for her bad news and frankly she wasn’t sure she was up to the task of rendering it, but still—
“Worse than Det. Wilkes?” Alex asked, furrowing his brow in disbelief.
“It’s Tina.”
Alex stared, silent, waiting for Lisa to continue.
“I, um—” Lisa wasn’t sure what exactly to say.
“Come on, Kiddo!” Alex urged. “Rip the Band-Aid. This isn’t a time or ‘um’, Lisa.”
Alex must have sensed her increasing nerves. He knelt in front of her, caressed her cheek. She melted, though tried her best to hide it.
Lisa sighed, frustrated with herself. “She’s gone, Alex.”
“What? Gone? Gone where? What do you mean gone?”
“Gone,” Lisa said, “Gone as in not here. Not there. Not any freaking where that I can find her. She’s just gone!”
* * *
For a while, the conversation shifted between Det. Wilkes’ untimely death and Tina’s whereabouts. Alex was aware of the urgency in finding Tina, if only because she was their only lead in burning down her house.
As he sat there listening to the story of the four men Lisa had encountered, Alex felt a rush he hadn’t felt in a while. Like Lisa, he didn’t believe the guys were FBI. Or at least he suspected. The question was, who were they?
“So, when’s the funeral for Wilkes?” Lisa asked.
“Don’t know yet,” Alex said. Lt. McAvey had only called him a few minutes before Lisa arrived. The details were sketchy and nothing much was decided yet. An investigation would have to be held, an autopsy most likely performed.
“What’d we ever find out about those boys from Star?” Lisa asked.
He filled her in on the autopsy reports, which Lt. McAvey had summarized over the phone. Massive adrenaline levels. Epinephrine levels off the scale. Burse aorta in each boy.
“Quite literally,” Alex continued, “You might say they were scared to death.”
Just then, Alex’s home phone rang. He pulled the cordless off its cradle, pressed the talk button.
“Mendez,” he announced.
* * *
It was all Lisa could do not to search out another phone so as to eaves drop on the conversation. Despite the fact Alex’s side consisted mostly of “uh-huh” and “I see” accompanied by the occasional “When?” Lisa could tell this was something serious.
He pressed the talk button to end the call.
“Lt. McAvey,” Alex said.
“What’d he say?” Lisa asked.
“Jason Brenton died last night.”
Lisa’s blood ran cold.
“I don’t like this,” Alex said. “Let’s find that Tina girl and get some answers.
Lisa agreed.
* * *
She was still reeling from their most recent battle He was so strong. So many souls imprisoned, forced to do his bidding. She felt anguish deep inside and so forcefully that it was almost tangible. The echoes of cries from centuries of lost souls still sang their mournful litany.
He wasn’t acting in a pattern she could predict any longer. Why that man? Had she been fore forceful with Tina, she might have gotten there sooner. She might have been able to save him. Now, it was too late. She watched from the shadows as the sheet-covered gurney was rolled into the Medical Examiner’s office. Filled with sorrow, she looked toward the sky, her face illuminated by the half moon.
“I don’t know if I can win,” she whispered. A single tear formed.
The dark alley filled with the warm, inviting scent of honeydew. All around her a bath of light danced macabre. The wind picked up but, as with the light, seemed to be her servant. She felt the Presence. Her mind’s eye saw enlightenment. The creamy, sulfur light transformed into a powdery visual concerto of lavender, pink and orange. She felt recharged. She felt strong again. She felt the Almighty sustaining her for the mission to come.
“Thank you, Father,” she whispered.
She felt ready.
* * *
Alex understood Lisa’s desire to keep the situation quiet. There’s nothing like a precinct full of gung-ho, gun happy cops facing down some poor, disturbed individual with a possible death wish. Still, there was a part of him that felt the need to at least call in backup. A couple of his friends were patrolmen. Jaime Watts and Derek Horn had both been recently promoted to Sergeant. Both training top rookie partners. Both very good at doing what Alex asked, without questioning. He gave few details. Just a description of the girl and orders not to approach.
Alex also called two friends from the Vice Squad. Detectives Charles Hay
s and Danny Peterson. Both men had connections that made every Homicide detective envious. Charles was an older black man. The main reason he wasn’t retired was because of his connections. The police force needed him far more than he needed them. And he obliged. Peterson was a renegade and Alex’s mentor. His former trainer. Danny had transferred to Vice a couple years ago, on what turned out to be a not temporary assignment after all. Alex hoped he would once again join the ranks of Homicide. An ethnic mix of Irish father and Scottish mother, his confidence and cocksure arrogance showed in everything he did and said. In a fight – any fight – you wanted Danny Peterson on your side.
With his phone calls made, Alex sat back beside Lisa.
“So,” she asked. “What now?”
CHAPTER 21
REVELATIONS
Alex and Lisa decided to make a brief sweep around the neighborhood and head back to Lisa’s house. If she had run away, chances are she was either long gone or she would return home. That was the way it was with runaways. You either found them quickly or you found them dead. Lisa was hoping for the former.
She sat silent as Alex drove around the blocks near Lisa’s house. Alex called the station and informed them he was on duty in the field and would not be in the office for some time. Most cops couldn’t get away with that, but very few police officers were going to question Alex Mendez regarding his whereabouts.
Occasionally, Alex looked in his rearview mirror.
“What’d you say those FBI guys were driving?” Alex asked.
Lisa felt unnerved by the question, which reminded her of the urgency of the situation.
“Sedan,” she said absently. “Blue, I think.”
“Hang on,” Alex said, suddenly jerking the wheel toward the curb and stopping. Lisa bumped her head on the window. She screamed, scowled at Alex.
“Sorry,” he said, looking quickly in the rearview.
Still rubbing her forehead, Lisa looked behind them.
“Mind if you let me in on what we’re doing?”
“I think we’re being followed, kiddo.”
Lisa’s eyes grew big. She resisted the temptation to take another look back. She turned straight forward in her seat, glanced out her side mirror. She could see nothing.
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