About ten minutes went by and I started to get nervous, so I gave Nick a call. He didn’t answer. I took out my pepper spray, slipped my keys between my fingers and took off to find him.
Rounding the corner I stopped short and flung myself back against the wall. My heart banged against my chest as I spied Little Red out on the street, his cowboy hat casting a bizarre shadow beneath the lamplight. Crystal stood opposite him pointing a gun directly at his crotch.
I grabbed my phone from my pocket and punched in Nick’s number again, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally answered. My eyes glued to the scene unfolding in front of me, I whispered a hurried plea for him to get there stat.
“Stay put,” he ordered his voice tense.
“I—oh shit!” Little Red knocked the gun out of Crystal’s hand and it skittered across the asphalt, landing at my feet. Oblivious to me, he grabbed Crystal and twisted her arm behind her back. As she struggled against him, he pulled a semi-automatic out of his back pocket and pistol whipped her about the face and head.
I scooped up Crystal’s gun and sprinted over to them. “Leave her alone you fucking asshole,” I yelled, and prayed I wouldn’t actually have to use it.
With a savage swipe he knocked Crystal to the ground, worked the pistol slide, chambering a round, and leveled his gun at my heart. It was him or me. Without hesitation I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Crap.
Little Red threw back his head and howled with derisive laughter. “You dumb bitch, you don’t have any bullets.” Fuck. I guess I overestimated a 14 year-old kid’s familiarity with firearms. Little Red leveled the gun toward me again, and in that instant Crystal crawled onto her knees and slammed into him.
It caught him off balance, giving me a nanosecond to roll out of the way. The gun went off and Crystal screamed. I turned to see Nick stagger forward. He dropped to the ground and I watched in horror as blood spurted from his upper torso.
As I raced over to help Nick, Little Red turned the gun on him. Grabbing Santiago’s .38 off the ground I fired, hitting Little Red in the thigh. He reeled back on impact and then lunged for me.
Nick surged forward and lashed out with his leg, connecting with Little Red’s arm. The bone shattered with a sickening crunch. Little Red dropped the gun and crumpled onto the pavement.
Shaking like a poodle on the Fourth of July, I knelt down next to Nick. His shirt was soaked with blood and his breathing labored.
“It looks worse than it really is, Angel,” Nick reassured me. “Just a flesh wound.”
“Shouldn’t I be saying those comforting words to you?”
“Take care of Crystal. She’s going to need you.”
Crystal limped over to Little Red as he lay upon the pavement. Her face was battered, huge welts forming on her lips and cheeks. She hovered above him, watching him writhe in pain. And then she lifted her foot and kicked him senseless.
She was still kicking him when the cops arrived. I would have suggested she stop, but a part of me was enjoying it.
*****
At 6:00a.m. I dragged myself up the steps to my house, fumbled the key into the lock and walked inside. Adrian was waiting for me in the entryway holding something furry in his mouth. It was either a sock or a dead rodent, but seeing as I’d spent the last four and a half hours at the police station I was too tired to care which.
One of Little Red’s neighbors had called the cops, thinking the gunshots she’d heard were punk kids setting off fireworks. When they’d arrived at the scene they called for backup. Within minutes the street was filled with patrol cars and emergency vehicles. Little Red was bundled into one of the ambulances and Nick into the other.
I climbed aboard with him searching his eyes anxiously. “That’s more than a flesh wound, Nick.” I’d overheard the medic say another quarter inch and the bullet would’ve struck an artery. “Swear to me you’re going to be alright.”
He smiled, but I could tell it was an effort. “Easy stuff, Darlin’. I told you once I’d never lie to you. I never have and I won’t start now. I’m going to be just fine.”
I leaned down and kissed him on the mouth, tasting the salt from my tears as they rolled down my cheeks. Then I climbed out of the ambulance and into the waiting patrol car.
Crystal was already sitting inside. She was petrified. I could tell by the way she was swearing at the officer sitting up front. He tried to explain to her she wasn’t being arrested; there were just a few details they had to clear up. The cops had questioned us thoroughly at the scene and had pretty much determined we’d acted out of self defense, but there was still the matter of an underage runaway toting a gun around. The police frown on that.
I called Father Sal and he met us at the station. Crystal gave me one of those looks I’ve come to recognize as her “Why are you getting up in my business?” face.
“You may be in a lot of trouble, Crystal,” I quietly explained. “You could use a friend like Sal right now.”
Sal spoke at length with one of the officers and then they walked over to the bench where Crystal was waiting in sullen silence.
“Crystal, Officer Janowitz has agreed to let me take you back to the safe house,” Sal told her. “If that’s okay with you, we can get out of here.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Crystal bristled. “I can take care of myself.”
Officer Janowitz blew out an impatient breath. “Let me put it to you this way. It’s either the priest or Juvi. Your choice.”
Before Crystal had a chance to protest further I pulled her aside. “Look, Crystal, the cops are stuck between a rock and a hard place. I know you see them as the enemy, but this guy’s trying to cut you a break here. He can’t just let you go. You’re underage. He’s giving you a good out. Take it.”
“Okay,” she relented, her voice a tad less belligerent.
“What happens now?” I asked as Sal drove me back to Nick’s truck.
“According to Janowitz, Little Red will be booked on attempted murder charges. As for the story about Star, who knows? The cops will do their best to check it out, but without a body, it’s hard to prove.”
I glanced over my shoulder to the back seat. Crystal was curled up in a ball asleep.
“Are they going to charge Crystal? I mean she pulled a gun on Little Red.”
“Funny thing,” Sal shrugged, a slight smile crossing his face. “They searched the area extensively and no gun was found. So now it’s just a pimp’s word for it and I don’t think the cops are inclined to believe him.”
Note to self: Add Officer Janowitz to my Christmas list.
*****
I slept fitfully, waking every few hours to call the hospital to check on Nick. When it got late enough, I phoned my parents and Paulie to fill them in so they wouldn’t hear about it secondhand and freak out. I also promised an ‘exclusive’ to my television station as soon as I could speak in coherent sentences again.
In between, I dreamed, or, more specifically, I nightmared. My conscious mind couldn’t stop thinking about shooting Little Red and it spilled over into my subconscious. In a million years I wouldn’t have thought myself capable of doing that kind of bodily harm to someone no matter how despicable they might be. But when push came to shove, it was a no brainer.
Still, I couldn’t help but think how Henry Michael’s great “grandmaw” would feel had I actually killed him. Thank God I didn’t have to find out.
By noon I had given up on trying to sleep. My bedroom was stifling hot and the dog needed to go out. I threw on some clothes, brushed my teeth and clamped Adrian’s leash on him.
It was 90 degrees and muggy outside. Mrs. Gentile was standing on her little patch of lawn, putting the finishing touches on a miniature Revolutionary War scene. I think it was supposed to be “The Father of our Country” crossing the Delaware, but it was hard to tell. A bearded George Washington was riding on a donkey, which led me to believe she’d used parts of her Nativity display from Christmas.
“Nice d
isplay, Mrs. Gentile,” I said, thinking how much fun Adrian would have peeing on it. I waited a beat for the inevitably bitter response.
“Thank you!”
I am a terrible person!
When I got back from our walk, I called the hospital again. Nick was sleeping but the nurse assured me he was doing fine. I showered and changed into a clean tee shirt and fresh jeans, made a quick batch of Slice n’Bake cookies because, as my mother says, “You should never visit anyone empty-handed” and took off for the hospital.
The cookies got a little burnt, so on the way up in the elevator I tried a couple to make sure they were edible. They tasted pretty good to me. I rewrapped the rest and walked down the hall to Nick’s room.
I knocked softly and peeked into the room, expecting to find him asleep. He was awake and sitting in a chair, dressed in black sweat pants and a pajama top, open in front. A bandage wrapped around his chest was the only telltale sign that something traumatic had occurred less than twelve hours before. Otherwise he looked the picture of health. And he had company.
With her long, silken black hair, supermodel build and Eurasian knockout looks, I recognized her immediately. I’d met her several months back at Nick’s apartment when I’d inadvertently intruded on their date. Her name was Alana and she was a royal bitch on wheels.
I tried to retreat before Nick saw me standing there like a dork in my Princess Bride tee shirt holding a plate of burnt, pseudo-homemade cookies, but he spotted me and called out my name.
I could pretend I didn’t hear him and if he asks about it later, just deny it was me. He’s probably hopped up on pain killers anyway and won’t remember a thing.
“Brandy,” he said again. “Come on in. I was hoping you’d stop by. Alana, you remember Brandy, don’t you?”
“Of course, and you brought Nicky cookies. Wasn’t that sweet? I wish I didn’t care how I looked and just enjoyed food the way you so obviously do.” She gave me a full watt smile.
“Nice to see you again, Alana. Oh, dear, you’ve got food stuck in your teeth. How embarrassing for you.”
Score!
The corners of Nick’s mouth twitched slightly as he fought to suppress a smile. It made me love him even more.
“Alana, thanks for dropping off those papers for me. I’ll look them over and get them back to your office.”
She bent to kiss him and I noted with some satisfaction that she kept her lips pressed together. “Take care, Nicholas. Call me.” Funny, she didn’t say goodbye to me.
Nick hoisted himself out of the chair and stretched out on the bed leaving room for me to sit down. “Talk to me, Brandy Alexander,” he said. “How are you doing?”
“Me? I’m not the one who got shot. I’m fine.”
Nick stared deep into my eyes. “I know you, Angel. You shot a man. That can’t have been easy for you.”
“Please.” I told him, turning away from his gaze. “That nut job didn’t have a single redeeming quality.”
“And yet, given half a chance, you would drag him kicking and screaming down the path of redemption. By the way, my source down at the precinct tells me Red is humming a distinctly different tune than the one he’d been spreading on the street. Swears up and down he doesn’t know what happened to Star. He’d made up that story about killing her to keep his girls in line.”
“Do you believe he just made it up?”
“Well, from what we know about the guy, he’s more than capable of killing Star. But he’s denying it now and without a body—” Nick trailed off.
“So once again we’re back to square one.”
My phone began to play I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy. I’d downloaded the ring tone in honor of the Fourth of July, thinking it would be fun and patriotic. Janine says it just serves to emphasize my supreme geekiness, but Janine’s wrong. It’s cool!
I looked at the readout. It was Alphonso.
“We still on for tonight, Sweetcakes?” he asked.
“Definitely. Want me to pick you up?”
His laughter filled my ears.
“I take that as a ‘no.’ Okay, fine. You pick me up. I’ll see you around nine. And—Alphonso?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“You and Alphonso going somewhere?” Nick inquired as I threw my phone back in my bag.
“Yeah, we’re going to—” I stopped, mid-explanation. There was something in the studied casualness of his question that thrilled me beyond belief. And then it dawned on me. Nicholas Santiago was jealous!
“Um, we thought we’d hang out. Well,” I said, milking the moment for all it was worth, “I’d better let you get some rest.” He did look like he was starting to fade. “I could come back tomorrow—y’know, if you’re bored or anything.”
“I’m getting released this afternoon, but you’re welcome to stop by the apartment.” There was a slight hesitation and then, “Look, darlin’, whatever you and Alphonso have going on—just be careful, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean just be careful.”
If I thought I was going to get him to reveal anything about his real feelings for me I was delusional.
“I’m always careful,” I muttered, heading out the door. Damnit.
I thought I heard him snort softly as the door swung closed.
*****
“John, I can’t talk now. I’m working.”
“Then why did you answer the phone if you can’t talk? I hate when you do that. I got all excited thinking you were available.”
I sighed. Alphonso, seated next to me, cut me a bored stare. We had been parked for half an hour on the side of the road, about 100 yards from the property at 608 Boonsboro Road.
It was one of those typical old farm houses you’d find in the area, with a stone wall out front that had fallen into disrepair. The house was set back and surrounded by trees, the nearest neighbor being about a quarter mile away.
It looked like it had been 20 years since any farming activity had taken place, and the forest was quickly reclaiming all the fields. There was a light on in the front room and a car sitting in the driveway. A dark green Saturn.
It looked familiar to me and I searched my memory bank for where I’d seen one just like it. Then it dawned on me. There had been a dark green Saturn sitting out in front of the Garners’ house the day Janine and I went there to talk to James. Could it belong to the Garners?
“Okay, John,” I said, “the truth is nobody looks good in Crocs, and yes, that could absolutely be a factor in Garrett not calling you back.”
I didn’t even think Alphonso was listening, but he let out a short bark of a laugh.
“Who’s with you?” John asked.
“Oh, that’s—Holy cow! John, I’ll call you back!”
Alphonso sat up in his seat and focused his eyes on the house. The light had gone out and the front door opened. James and Eleanor Garner appeared in the doorway. James turned to lock up the house while Eleanor headed for the car and climbed in. James joined her a moment later and they drove off down the road and out of sight.
Alphonso retrieved his Glock from beneath his seat and opened the glove compartment, extracting a .38. He held it out to me and a sick wave of fear rippled through my stomach.
“I can’t, Alphonso. I know I’m being a wuss, but I’m just not ready.”
“No problem.” He stuck it back in the glove compartment and we climbed out of the car.
Alphonso silently signaled to me to follow him around to the back of the property. A couple of big trash containers were lined up against the house. I opened one and started sifting through the rubbish.
About halfway down the first can I found an empty plastic bottle with a picture of a baby on it. Hunh! Those creeps don’t even recycle. Figures. I tried to read the words on the back of the container but it was too dark to see.
“Yo, Jackson, can you make out what it says?” I whispered tossing him the bottle.
Alphonso dug in his pocke
t and took out a small LED flashlight. “Says Vitafuel Prenatal Nutrition.”
My heartbeat quickened. “This stuff is for pregnant women.” There were two more identical, empty containers down near the bottom of the can, along with four empty gallon cartons of milk. Milk. The perfect food for someone in the “family way.”
“Alphonso, we’ve got to get into the house.”
Alphonso shined the flashlight on me. “You don’t look so good.”
I was so nervous I could barely speak. “Just get us in there.”
The back door was tripled latched but Alphonso Jackson is a pro. Within minutes we were standing inside the kitchen. It wasn’t exactly designer decorated. There was a table and some mismatched chairs, a standard issue refrigerator and an okra colored stove that would go perfect with shag carpeting. I looked around and found a pot soaking in the sink. The whole place stunk of oatmeal.
Alphonso led us through each room, carefully checking every nook and cranny, for what, I was afraid to even imagine. There was something strange about the house. It had all the right touches to give the appearance of an actual home, and yet, it lacked authenticity.
Alphonso felt it too. “This place is giving off some badass vibes. You can almost smell it.”
“That’s the oatmeal. But, yeah, I feel it too.”
Standing in the living room, I spied a heating vent in the floor. “If there’s a heating vent, there’s a furnace,” I said, “only we’ve cruised around the whole house and haven’t run across it… which means it must be in the basement… but there’re no steps leading to a cellar. That’s weird.”
“Let me go outside and see if I can spot a basement window or a door for a root cellar,” Alphonso said. “I’ll be right back.”
“There is something so wrong here,” I thought, looking around the living room. “I can feel it.”
My eyes gravitated to the hallway runner. It looked brand new, a sharp contrast to the rest of the threadbare rugs in the house. That’s weird. Why would they let the place go to seed and then care about a stupid little rug?
No Such Thing as a Free Ride Page 24