by Danika Stone
Saturday, he’d try again.
: : : : : : : : : :
Early Saturday morning, Indigo came out of the apartment, taking her first steps into the bitter chill. The winter weather had been a perfect match for her emotions lately: the terror of Luca’s return freezing her heart until she was numb through. The temperature had dropped overnight, and a heavy layer of hoar frost covered each branch on the trees. Indigo pulled out the video camera and tripod from her backpack, taking a long shot of the scene. She crossed the road, setting up across from the apartment so she could take a slow pan from one end of the street where a line of busses sat lined up, all the way to the coffeehouse where the first customers were getting their morning jolt.
A single figure was standing outside the café, two coffees in hand.
She jerked her head up away from the viewfinder, scrambling to unhook the foot from the base of the tripod. Jude walked up the street, watching as she struggled to disassemble the camera.
“Hey, Indigo.”
She didn’t answer, just threw the items into her backpack, and started walking toward the subway station.
“Look, I um, I was wondering if we could talk,” he said, pacing her as she strode away.
“I’ve got nothing to say to you!” she hissed.
“I get that,” Jude said, following. “But I’ve got things I need to say to you. Could you just slow down a sec?”
She spun on her heel, and the coffee sloshed over the spouts of the paper cups, splattering his jacket and the ground.
“There is nothing you could say that would change anything that happened!” she roared. Her face was blotchy with the cold, bright patches of pink on her cheeks and nose. “I finally got my life together, and I am not fucking it up again!”
She stormed away.
“Wait!” Jude shouted, running after her. “Indigo, just WAIT! I’m sorry!”
Halfway to the subway station she turned back. She was crying.
“I don’t care!” she screamed. “It’s too fucking late now!”
Jude tossed the coffee to the gutter, staining the snow brown, and chased after her. Indigo was at the subway, sliding her card across the turnstile when he reached her side.
“Just wait,” he pleaded, putting a hand on her arm, “I can explain. I really can!”
She shrugged his fingers away, stomping toward the platform as Jude scrambled to find change for a ticket. The train had arrived by the time he made it to the platform. His eyes skipped from dark-haired woman to dark-haired woman in desperation, finally catching sight of her near the end of the train. He sprinted, making it through the door just as it began to close.
Indigo sat against the window, earbuds in ears. The only other people in the car were an old lady in a parka and a couple of teenage girls, giggling over a magazine.
“Hey,” Jude panted, sitting down on the seat next to Indigo.
She glared but didn’t answer.
“I… I know I was wrong. And I’m sorry, but if you’ll just listen, I can explain.”
Indigo lifted her mp3 player, turning up the volume until Jude could hear it himself. The heavy beat of Slayer began to rise in a tinny cacophony.
“So we’re not talking,” Jude said quietly. “Alright then.”
On the seat across from them, the elderly woman chuckled. With a heavy sigh, Jude slumped lower in the seat, the train speeding into the darkness.
: : : : : : : : :
Gina Cerritos stood before the desk, paper in hand, squinting at the silhouette of King across from her. The early morning light from the windows in front of her was less kind to the circles under her eyes than she would have wished, but he’d chided her for dallying last time. Today King would have no such complaint.
“Officer Brodie got another call this morning,” she said, laying the paper on the desk. “Another tip about your wayward programmer, Jude Alden.”
The black shadow moved, reaching out and fingering the paper.
“Saying what exactly?”
“Nothing in particular,” she answered, folding her arms over her chest, “other than the caller was certain Jude was up to something. That was it.”
King swore, and Gina fought down the urge to smirk. King was quick to take offense, and she had no intention of putting herself on his radar. Things were still tenuous between them.
“Who called it in?” King growled.
Gina’s mouth twitched. It was wrong to feel good about this, but she couldn’t help it.
“Brodie couldn’t trace it,” she said lightly.
“What?!?” The single word dripped acid.
“The call was too short,” Gina explained, dropping her hands to her side. “Whoever called in was smart. He knew what he was doing.” She paused. “When I heard that,” she said smugly. “It made me wonder...”
“Wonder what?”
Gina stepped forward, the first hint of a smile ghosting over her lips. This close she could see King’s face; his nose was flared, dark eyes flinty.
“Seems like it might’ve been someone from the inside.”
King’s chin jerked up, as if on a string. He turned to the side, putting himself in profile, features chiselled by light.
“Patel!” he barked.
Patel moved closer, and Gina’s eyes narrowed. She hated Patel more than she hated the others. He wasn’t just a thug, he was smart. The man unnerved her, the way he watched and followed.
“What’s the word?” King asked.
“The word, sir?”
“On the street,” he sneered. “You always hear it first. What’re people saying out there?”
Patel looked directly at Gina before leaning into King. She held her breath, desperate to hear. “There’s a power struggle,” Patel whispered. “Someone’s getting ready to move on you.”
Gina released her breath, heart pounding. So the rumor was true!
“Who?!” King snapped, and Gina cringed.
Patel leaned closer, his hand cupping his mouth, words fading in and out. “…just talking… different families… an old grudge… waiting for you to react.” King’s gaze swung back up, his attention on Gina, and she took another step backward. Like this, his face was in shadow again, but she knew what she’d see if she could: hatred and distrust.
“Stop!” King growled. “I’ve heard enough!”
Patel nodded, leaving King’s side. For a long moment, no one in the room spoke. Gina wished she’d waited longer before calling this meeting, but it was too late for regrets now. She lifted her chin. A Cerritos didn’t cower. Rocco never had, and neither would she.
“This discussion is over,” King announced. “Gina. You find out who sent that message, or I’ll hold you personally responsible.”
“But I—”
“Personally responsible!” he bellowed.
“Yes, sir.”
She turned, walking out of the room on stiff legs. King waited for the door to close behind her before he spoke again.
“Jude Alden is starting to cause me more trouble than he’s worth,” King muttered. He glanced over at Luca. “We’ve got someone watching him?”
Luca smiled.
“Marq Lopez is your eyes.”
King nodded.
“Well, tell him to do a better job. I can’t risk any loose ends where Alden’s concerned.”
Chapter 20: From the Outside
Indigo ignored Jude until they reached the station. When the train stopped, he stood up, walking alongside her as she headed to the platform.
“Fucking stalker,” Indigo hissed.
If Jude heard, he didn’t say. He kept pace with her as she reached the escalator. Indigo stepped on the stair ahead of him, gritting her teeth. “Asshole,” she muttered, her eyes lifting as they rose back to the surface. The sun had risen high enough that light was passing down through the windows above the exterior doors. The bands were angled like an image that Indigo had once seen in a shot in her film class. It’d been an old film of Grand C
entral Station – taken in the twenties – but this morning, the grungy subway station, with its faded 1960’s tile, was transformed.
Jude touched her arm, and she jerked away.
“What?” she snapped.
He pointed up ahead to the busy exit and the light streaming down onto the commuters.
“If you want,” Jude offered, “I could film you walking out.” He shrugged. “I assume you’re getting shots for your film, right?”
“Why?”
“Because I want to help?”
“This isn’t gonna change anything,” she said fiercely. “It’s over with us!”
Jude’s face wilted. “I know,” he said dully.
Indigo turned to look back at the light. Even now it was starting to fade. With a sigh she shoved the bag at him.
“Fine!” she grumbled. “Get the footage. If you’re here you might as well be useful.”
“After,” Jude said, unzipping the pack. “Maybe we could talk about—”
“Not a fucking chance!” she barked before stalking away.
: : : : : : : : : :
Marq woke to the sound of two phones: the cell phone, somewhere in his pile of clothing, and the hard-wired phone in the kitchen. They alternated back and forth, one ringing until it went to message, then the other taking over, and then back again. Marq groaned, rubbing his hand over his face.
Last night had been a little too much fun.
He stumbled out of bed, throwing clothes out of the way as the ringing grew louder. Finding his cell phone, he clicked it on.
“H’lo?”
“Marq,” came Luca’s growling voice. “Thought I was going to have to come over there and wake you up myself.”
“No, no,” he said, coughing to clear his throat. “I’m fine. Awake now.”
“Good,” Luca said. “Where’s your friend, Jude?”
“Just a sec,” Marq answered, yawning. “Lemme look.”
He staggered out of his bedroom and into the hallway, head pounding. The apartment was unexpectedly quiet. He put a hand over the phone, shouting. “Jude?”
There was no answer. He walked down the hallway, peeking into the kitchen and living room.
“Marq,” Luca’s muffled voice intruded, “do you know where Jude Alden is?”
“I… um,” Marq said, lifting the phone to his ear, “I’m not sure. He’s usually around, unless he’s at work.” He came back down the hallway, pounding on the bedroom door.
“Hey buddy!” he shouted. “You in there?”
There was no answer, so he pushed it open.
“Marq,” Luca interrupted, “Mr. Fischer is concerned that someone is showing some interest in Jude.”
“What?”
“There was an anonymous call to the police this morning,” Luca explained. “The second one in two weeks. It pointed the finger at Jude.”
“Oh shit!”
“Exactly,” Luca chuckled. “So I need you to find him, and I need you to keep an eye on him. Take him out, get him a girl, keep him busy, keep him in your sights. You understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes,” Marq said, “absolutely.”
“Good,” Luca replied. “I’ll be in contact with you soon. Find him!” he added. “And don’t lose him, or King will be unhappy with you.”
“Right.”
The phone clicked off, and Marq glanced at the screen. He had five new messages. With a sigh, he began listening to them. Two of them were from Luca. Two were from his mother, reminding him he was supposed to be coming home for the weekend.
The last message was from Keith, asking to meet about some ‘research’ he needed done.
: : : : : : : : : :
Indigo and Jude had taken footage capturing various moments of Indigo’s life as the day passed. Jude acted as gopher and cameraman, while Indigo led him on a show and tell of the inner city. They’d taken several scenes of the street, stopped in for lunch at a homeless shelter where Indigo had talked to the manager, and driven past the juvenile detention center where she’d been sent. Afterward, they’d visited an apartment building that was now being renovated into condos. All of them snapshots into her life.
Jude had filled the uneasy silence with his own stories. He started with bits and pieces of his own past, gradually adding in details of his parents’ divorce and finally sharing the story of his father’s death.
“There was an investigation into the fire,” Jude explained, “but no charges were ever filed. Something was wrong… everyone agreed with that. A fire that burned too hot, and wouldn’t die down. But no one ever really knew.”
Indigo stared at him for a long moment.
“That sucks,” she finally said.
“Yeah,” he said with a tired laugh. “It does.”
She turned, walking away, but her words drifted back. “Sometimes shitty things happen to good people,” she said. “Don’t overthink it, Jude. That’s just the way life is.”
He didn’t know if it was the storytelling, or just being together again, but with each new stop, Indigo had thawed, until she was talking to him again. The anger fading. Arriving at a downtown club, she nudged him with her elbow.
“You can film that,” she said quietly.
“This?” Jude asked.
“Yeah,” she muttered, not holding his gaze. “This is where I used to hang out, before…”
She didn’t say any more, but he was starting to guess it. They were nearing the break before that part of her life, and the next. The story that he did know.
Walking up the snowy streets near dinnertime, Indigo waved up ahead. The apartment was multi-storied and faded, like a photograph worn by too many hands. It was their final stop. Jude stood next to Indigo on the sidewalk, his eyes on the brick structure. Indigo hadn’t told him where they were, but he recognized it from the street-view map he’d looked at online.
This was her mom’s apartment.
Indigo turned toward him, putting a hand on his arm. “Look,” she said tightly. “Thanks for the help today, Jude, but you don’t have to come up this time if you don’t want to.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “Seriously, I don’t mind.”
Indigo seemed to realize she was still touching him, and she pulled away, tucking her hand into her sleeve.
“I mean, I don’t have to come if you don’t want me to,” Jude said, “but if you want someone to film, I can. I’ll just stay in the background.”
Indigo turned, glaring at the street. She chewed her lower lip.
“I… I haven’t seen her since I ran away the last time,” Indigo said. She turned back to look at him. “I was seventeen then.”
Jude gave a sympathetic smile.
“But you’re here now.”
“I dunno if I want to be.”
She sighed, the sound carrying with it a weight Jude wished he could relieve.
“I’ll come along if you want… as a friend.” He reached out his hand. Indigo looked down at his palm, unmoving. “And if things get bad I’ll fake a nosebleed or something.”
The corner of her mouth tugged up.
“Smooth,” Indigo chuckled.
“I just want to help,” he said.
She nodded, reaching out and putting her hand in his for the first time that day.
“I know you do.”
: : : : : : : : : :
Marq sat in the Starbucks near the university, leg jiggling in irritation. Keith was officially late, but Marq had other things occupying his mind. The first was the trouble with Luca. The mobster had contacted him twice, increasingly agitated that Marq hadn’t located Jude yet. Marq knew Jude was somewhere in the city, but that wasn’t good enough. Luca wanted specifics. Marq had sent Jude five separate texts, asking where he was, and if he wanted to meet up for lunch later, but Jude’s only answer had been cryptic: I’m busy.
The bells above the door chimed, and Marq glanced up. A blond man wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase was standing just in the doorway. He scanned
the crowd, his eyes darting nervously from one person to the other, finally stopping on Marq. It was, Marq realized in surprise, Callum Woodrow, one of the profs from the university. But that wasn’t the person he was waiting to meet.
“Marq?” Professor Woodrow called.
Marq blinked in confusion as Woodrow strode forward.
“I’m Keith,” Woodrow said, and Marq realized that the professor had no idea they’d met before. Sometimes, he thought in annoyance, being a tech guy was like having no identity at all.
“I’m Marq,” he said dryly. “You look familiar, Keith.” He smirked. “Certain we haven’t met before?”
“I don’t think so,” Woodrow said coolly.
Marq shoved out a chair with his foot, waiting while Woodrow sat down next to him. With his fancy suit, and polished shoes, he looked more like a banker than a professor. Marq didn’t care. This was going to be his big payout, and if playing along with the cloak and dagger act was what it took, so be it.
“Well, maybe you just have a familiar face.”
“Mmph, maybe.” Woodrow settled into the chair, his eyes flitting around the room, as if nervous he’d be seen. “Thanks for meeting me,” Woodrow said. “I’ve been looking for someone who could help me.”
“Sure, man,” Marq answered, “I’m happy to help, as long as you can pay what I asked.”
“Money’s not a problem,” Woodrow said, leaning closer. “I want information on someone.”
“So you want, like, details on their life and stuff?”
“Everything!” Woodrow hissed. “I want to know what he’s done – I want to know where he’s been!” The bells above the door chimed and he jerked back around, eyes darting. Marq knew Woodrow tended to be irritable, but today he was downright edgy, his energy unsettling. “He’s up to something. Not sure what yet, but he is,” he continued. “I had some trouble with him before, and I tried to tell the police about him, but they asked too many questions so I thought—”
“Just give me a name,” Marq interrupted. “That’s all I need, Professor Woodrow.”
Cal’s face blanched. He stared at Marq for a long moment as if undecided. Finally he reached into his pocket, pulling out a card with a name printed across one side. He held it in the air between them.