It took some time for Mrs. Cumming to give an answer. Brenda could see that the older woman was fighting back tears.
“I really don’t know. He went out as usual, and didn’t come back home. I called the police after he’d stayed out two nights. Tim had never stayed out for two nights.”
“And when was he found?”
“Three days later.”
“In the trunk of your car with a note, right?”
Mrs. Cumming’s eyes narrowed.
“No,” she replied, slightly confused. “I was called to the morgue, and when I arrived all I saw of my Tim was his head.”
It was Brenda’s turn to get confused.
“Sorry, did you say ‘morgue’?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Cumming replied, nodding emphatically. “Why would you think I found him in my car?”
“Nothing,” Brenda replied quickly. She tried to keep her face calm to prevent Mrs. Cumming from getting agitated. However, her mind was spinning in dizzying circles. The police report on Tim’s case stated that his head had been found in her car’s trunk. Brenda had had her suspicions about the local police. Their attitude toward getting to the root of these crimes were just too nonchalant. Mrs. Cumming seemed to be confirming them.
“Do you remember who called you to the morgue?” Brenda asked.
“Yeah, I met him there at the morgue, though I can’t remember his name.”
“Can you give me a description?”
“Well, he said he was a detective somebody. He was short-ish, didn’t look nice.”
“Boyce? Was his name Boyce?”
“Yes, that’s him. Detective Boyce.”
“He told you what happened to your son?”
“Yes. A detective like him had killed my son.”
“And what happened to this detective?”
“I don’t know. He said the detective was on the run, but they would soon bring him to heel. He’d complained to me about it being one of the dangers of bringing in people from outside.”
“What do you mean?”
“The detective that killed my son, he isn’t from here.”
“Does he have a name?”
“Yes, I wouldn’t forget his name, ever. He goes by the name, Mack. Detective Mack. Detective Boyce couldn’t provide a surname.”
“Mack was here?” Brenda blurted out. Her eyes were wide with surprise.
“Yes. We’d thought he was going to put an end to the crimes happening here. We didn’t know he was a heartless murderer with a police badge,” Mrs. Cumming froze. “Do you know him?”
Brenda quickly got the import of that question. Besides, she didn’t know for sure if that was the Mack she knew. It could just as easily be someone else. Mack wasn’t really a unique name.
“No,” she replied. “No, I don’t know him.”
Mrs. Cumming relaxed.
“Detective Boyce was really kind.” Brenda restrained herself from laughing. “It’s just so sad that he found himself in a den of corruption.”
“You think the cops are corrupt?” Brenda questioned.
“Of course they are,” she said, leaning forward and widening her eyes. “Everybody knows. What else would explain all the cases of missing people—children and adults alike—even while the police are issuing out promises to ‘look into it’ like candies on Halloween.”
Things were falling into place for Brenda.
“Detective Boyce advised me to leave, for fear that the detective that killed my son might be after my life.”
Now Brenda’s eyes widened.
“Boyce encouraged you to move away?”
“Yeah. I should’ve been long gone. It’s just too difficult leaving this place. There are a lot of memories, you know? My husband, my son.” Mrs. Cumming sighed.
“When exactly did he ask you to leave?”
“Last week. He even gave me a bus pass.” She showed Brenda a ticket dated the previous Saturday. Brenda had arrived on Sunday.
An excellent way to make her leave before I got here.
“I think we’re done for now,” Brenda told her. “Thank you very much for tea and your time, Mrs. Cumming.”
“Anything that’ll get you to the bastard that beheaded my son.”
Brenda was taken aback by the rage in her voice.
“I will,” Brenda replied. Then she got up to leave.
“One more thing, Brenda,” Mrs. Cumming called as she opened the door. “You should talk to Tim’s friend, Greg. I never liked him. Still can’t see what my Tim saw in that guy. He might know something that would help.”
“Okay. Just Greg? Nothing else?”
“Nothing else. I don’t know what he does for a living, where he lives, any of that. I just see him hang out with my son a lot. And I’ve got a hunch that he’s responsible for my son’s behavior.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cumming. You’ve been of great help.”
“And, oh, he’s got a tattoo on one side of his face. It’s the tattoo of a lotus flower.”
“Thank you,” Brenda said. Then she walked out and closed the door gently behind her.
Brenda felt like she’d walked into another world. The sun was hot, but it was refreshing after the lifeless stillness in the house. She’d learned a few important things in her meeting with Mrs. Cumming.
There was a major discrepancy in the police report. Boyce had been in charge of this case. At first Brenda couldn’t see why Boyce would fabricate the report when Mrs. Cumming was around to contradict it. But that changed when Mrs. Cumming revealed that Boyce had asked her to leave. The pug of a detective hadn’t expected Brenda to meet her.
One more thing nagged at Brenda as she opened the car door. Greg with the tattoo—she’d read about him in the files she had. The few people she’d interrogated also made mention of seeing him around. The next course of action now was to find out who this Greg was, and get to him.
Brenda got into her car, and turned the ignition. The car sputtered and died. Her eyes narrowed in confusion. She started the car again. It did the same thing—sputtered and died out. The car was in excellent health when she rented it. She hadn’t had any problems with it, until now. She popped the hood open.
She was about to get out when she caught movement from the nearby palm trees. Brenda only had one moment for the meaning of what she saw to hit her. There were two men at the palm trees. The only thing Brenda could do in that split second was duck below the glass.
The hail of bullets shredded the bliss of the surrounding area, but most importantly, Brenda’s car.
Chapter Four
It had been over a week since Mack had found a headless corpse in the trunk of his vehicle. He knew he’d been set up and wouldn’t get out of Palm Island alive if he didn’t play his cards right. He’d been going head on against one of the most dangerous criminals in the country. Now it turned out Dimitri wasn’t just dangerous, he was also smart. At least, smart enough to turn his predator into prey.
Mack hadn’t seen Dimitri yet, but the headless body in the trunk coupled with the note fit what he’d learned. The man’s bloodthirst was as mischievous as it was brazen. Mack didn’t know who the body in the trunk was. And he didn’t know who to trust. He could call the chief of police, who’d sent him down here, but he figured that word of his supposed crime must’ve reached him. There were whispers in certain quarters that the chief was giving undue favor to him. The chief couldn’t stick his neck further than he already had.
Mack had weighed his options. The local police would probably be looking for him immediately. He had seen how the Palm Island police ran their investigations, so he knew what would happen if they found him. The body in his trunk was a noose, and he had to keep it off his neck. He knew who held the other end of the rope.
One man owned Palm Island. It didn’t matter how many government institutions were here. They couldn’t so much as breathe without his permission. If he let himself be captured by the police, he’d be murdered, and then slid under the carpet alongside numerous other
murder cases.
Mack ran from the garage with the body in his trunk, threw a few things he needed into his backpack, donned a baseball cap, and left the apartment. As if on cue, he heard the call of sirens as he disappeared into the foliage of trees nearby.
Mack had kept his head low since then. He booked a room at a bed and breakfast, shaved his head and his facial hair, and got an artificial tan. He knew he was dead if he got caught. One slip-up could mean the end of everything.
Mack saw his face in the papers and on wanted posters as he went outside. He hoped that the changes he’d undergone were enough. So far, it has worked.
Mack had tried and failed to establish contact with Greg, and he feared the worst. If Dimitri was on to Mack, he probably knew about Greg, too.
Mack's next option was to stalk one of the police officers. Mack decided to stick to the only cop he knew very well, the small, stern-faced Detective Boyce. Boyce seemed to live a pretty neat and law-abiding life. Mack was surprised to learn that the detective had a wife and a son, but Mack never saw him smile with them either.
After about a week of tailing Boyce, Mack was getting bored with the detective’s routine. Then one evening, rather than drive home straight from his shift, he took a detour. Mack followed him cautiously in a small sedan, until he saw Boyce drive into the walled compound of Dimitri’s noodle factory.
Gotcha, Mack thought.
He stayed and waited, never letting his eyes roam from the huge black gates the detective had gone through. Finally, the gates opened and Boyce drove out. But he wasn’t alone this time. Mack adjusted his baseball cap to obscure his face while still offering him a good view. He watched as Boyce drove by, and he got a glimpse of the stranger in the passenger seat.
Mack felt his heart leap. It took most of his strength to keep him from revealing himself. He waited until Boyce had driven down the road before he sat up. His face was still clouded by the expression of surprise. He looked back at Boyce's car as it slowed down at a red light. Mack couldn’t get the image of Greg from out of his head.
It was no figment of imagination. He’d seen the guy, complete with his facial tattoo. So he’d been there all the time, working and living freely.
Why didn’t the scumbag show up as agreed?
He felt the anger he’d kept off all this time slowly seep into his body in waves, like tremors from an earthquake. Mack couldn’t believe that he’d been going through all this difficulty to keep from being apprehended for something he didn’t do, and this criminal went about his normal life. All of a sudden, an idea popped into Mack’s head.
He started his car and took a turn.
You wanted to play, now it’s time to play.
Boyce’s light had just turned green. Mack stepped harder on the accelerator so he could keep up. He wasn’t going after Boyce anymore. He had Greg in full sights now.
***
Brenda stood in front of her mirror and poured a bottle of vodka on the long gash on her shoulder. She bit on the piece of cloth she’d put between her teeth as she grimaced in pain. The wound on her shoulder burned and felt like it was spreading.
Above anything else, she was grateful that she’d escaped the assault on her with nothing but a long gash to testify. Someone had been watching her. She didn’t know who, but she berated herself for being so careless all this while. Someone really didn’t want her talking to Mrs. Cumming, and she was certain it wasn’t just Boyce. Boyce couldn’t have ordered that attack. The men and the firearms they carried didn’t look like the police. Someone else had taken notice of her activities and was trying to snuff her out.
She still had a vivid recollection of all that’d transpired during the shooting. As soon as she ducked below the windows, she made her way through the rain of bullets toward the passenger door and burst out the other side. During her escape, a bullet zinged close to her, ricocheting off the side of the car.
Brenda’s tactical training took over. All she had on her was a Glock and an extra magazine, while her attackers had machine guns that seemed to have an abundant supply of bullets. Their bullets were of a bigger caliber than hers and could obviously do more damage. It was only a matter of time before the car she used for cover became the death of her. It was so riddled with bullets that chunks of it began to fall off. The fuel tank was on Brenda’s side, away from the full impact of the bullets, but it wasn’t going to stay that way for too long. With time, the bullets would eat through the bulk of the car and get to it. The way she saw it, she could either get killed by bullets or by a tank explosion.
Brenda realized that the gunmen had been shooting continuously at the car without slowing down for a reload. She assumed their goal was to kill her, make sure she was dead, and also make sure she remained that way. There was no way she would have survived if she’d still been in the car. It occurred to her that she could use their singular focus to her advantage. She pulled out her Glock, popped a bullet into the chamber, moved to her left and dove beyond the rear bumper.
Even before she hit the ground, Brenda visualized where her targets would be. As soon as the gunmen came into view, she squeezed the trigger and didn’t let go. The first series of shots hit the men in their legs, bringing them down and making the next shots fatal.
Brenda was safe, but she was no fool. She knew that was only the beginning. If they were willing to unleash that kind of attack in broad daylight, Brenda couldn’t safely take the time to search them.
Brenda checked the mirror again to make sure she’d bandaged the wound properly. She took a swig from the bottle of vodka and walked out. An FBI tactical support team was in the vicinity, but Brenda couldn’t call them in without an airtight case to support her. She couldn’t point a finger at who sent the men or who the men were, but she was sure Dimitri was behind the attack.
Let’s see what wonders that life of yours holds, shall we?
She picked up her gun and slapped a full magazine in.
She’d learned Boyce’s work schedule and routine by letting one of the cops at the precinct take her to dinner. The guy had made it a habit to bother her each time she visited the precinct, so she figured she would take advantage of the opportunity. By stalking Boyce, she was sure she’d learn a thing or two about Dimitri.
Chapter Five
“Yeah, you say you’ve found him?”
“Yes,” the sheriff replied. “We got an anonymous tip that he’s staying in a bed and breakfast. The anonymous caller didn’t know for sure that he was the one in the wanted posters. She just saw that they had an uncanny resemblance.”
“Resemblance?”
“Yeah, the suspect kinda looks different.”
“Kinda? This anonymous caller. Is she really anonymous? How does she know what she knows? Are you sure this isn’t a prank call?”
“I don’t know for sure. She said she works at the bed and breakfast and got a good look at him.”
“And she’s sure that he was the one?”
“Positive. She said she never forgets a face.”
“Wonderful. Keep me posted.”
Brenda looked out of her window to make sure Boyce hadn’t left her sight. He was still at the same table he’d been in fifteen minutes ago, eating tacos opposite Greg, the guy with the lotus flower tattoo on his face.
Brenda was quite surprised that the sheriff called her to tell her they’d found the detective who had killed Tim. He’d never done so in the past. In fact, she wasn’t even informed of occurrences related to the case, until she asked. Something was up, she could tell. Why did the sheriff suddenly need her for this?
Why were none of the cops making any indication that they were aware of the massive shooting that occurred at Mrs. Cumming’s place? She was certain they’d heard about it. The shooting was more than a neighborhood disturbance. It was a full-blown assault. The cops had to be in on it. Like everything else happening in Palm Island, the cops had swept the shooting right under the rug. Brenda knew now that she had to play her game smart or ris
k dying. The person she was going after wasn’t some petty criminal. He was hardened and cruel, smart and rich. The smallest mistake could mean the end of her stay in this world.
What’s Greg doing with Boyce? Brenda asked herself as she watched them eat and talk. What could they possibly be talking about?
It crossed her mind that Boyce could be interrogating the young man on the death of his friend. After all, the case wasn’t closed until the culprit was caught. However, there was something about Greg that pricked at Brenda’s mind. Perhaps it was the carefree and relaxed way he chatted with Boyce. His roguish carriage. Or his arrogant smirk. He didn’t act like someone whose friend had just been killed in one of the most gruesome ways possible.
However, Mrs. Cumming’s last words reverberated in her mind. There was a reason she had asked Brenda to see Greg. Boyce was still on her list of suspects. The entire police station was. However, she felt she could easily make headway with him. Plus, the guy with the facial tattoo had made frequent appearances in the Palm Island police files. So friend of Tim or not, Greg obviously had a role in the bigger picture. Brenda was determined to get to the root of it. Alone.
Greg and Boyce spent some more time talking. All the while, Brenda pretended to be a bored car owner leafing through pages of a beauty magazine. The sun reached the horizon through the time of Greg and Boyce’s discussion. The luminescence of the day was gradually falling. And more people were beginning to pour out into the streets. Towns like Palm Island that prioritized pleasure and entertainment always got more active in the night time.
Brenda espied both men from the top of the magazine. Suddenly, Boyce looked in her direction. Quick as lightning, she threw the magazine back over her face and prayed that Boyce hadn’t seen her. If he had, then she hadn’t just lost the element of surprise, but she’d have lost the case as well as her life. She counted down from ten, and then lowered the magazine a bit, so it could reveal her eyes.
Boyce and Greg were still at the table. Brenda felt a flush of relief. If Boyce had seen her, he didn’t show it. He went on talking like nothing had ever happened.
Live No Lies Page 3