No Accident

by Dan Webb

  “Now give me the boy,” Crash said.

  Alex squeezed Dmitri a little tighter and, without a backward glance, rolled his body out of the window and onto the sloping roof. He heard a gunshot and the window pane shattering above him. Their rolling accelerated. Alex threw a leg out sideways to slow them down, but they kept tumbling.

  * * *

  Luke heard the gunshot and sprinted back to Dmitri’s room. He found Crash standing by the open window, aiming his gun outward toward the roof outside.

  “Crash!”

  Crash swiveled and pointed the gun at Luke. Luke raised his palms.

  “Crash, what are you doing?”

  “Keeping a promise,” Crash said.

  “To whom?”

  “To a woman I hurt.”

  Crash’s responses came quickly, and Luke’s came more slowly, as if he’d arrived late to a party and was trying to catch up with the conversation. Luke stepped cautiously up to Crash. With steady hands, he lowered Crash’s gun. “I can help you. You don’t have to run.”

  “I can’t let you take Dmitri from me.”

  Luke gave a pained smile. “Dmitri’s . . . your son?” Crash didn’t answer. “H-how?” Luke asked.

  “You remember when I rescued her from . . . where she was,” Crash said.

  “Petra,” Luke said.

  “When we were running from the gangsters who were after her, we were together for a few hours. And it happened.”

  “Crash, I trusted you.” Luke stood with his hands at his sides and regarded Crash thoughtfully. His eyes were filling with tears. “Why’d you kill her?”

  That was a question Crash had to think about a moment. “She wanted to take Dmitri away from me, too.”

  Luke nodded, but looked confused. Then, almost bashfully, he said, “How many others?”

  Crash didn’t answer. Police sirens now rang out in the distance. Crash noticed the sound, cast a final glance out the window, then fled past Luke into the hall. Luke went to the doorway and watched as Crash left him.

  * * *

  As Alex felt the end of the roof pass under his backside, his thoughts raced for ways to protect Dmitri from the fall. Don’t crush him. Get my legs under me. Roll with it. But don’t crush him. Turf would be better than concrete. They landed in a hedge, which was a blessing but which terrified Alex because the sensation of a thousand twigs pricking him all over came as a surprise. Alex didn’t crush Dmitri. Alex sprang up immediately from the ground and, with Dmitri tossed over a shoulder, ran to where he had left his truck. About halfway there, he realized that he hadn’t broken any bones. He also realized he’d left his gun in the boy’s room.

  51

  Alex heard the sirens in the distance but kept running. He put Dmitri down and, with trembling hands, unlocked the door to his truck. Little Dmitri was too much in shock to run away. Alex lifted the boy into the truck and accelerated around Luke’s circular driveway and out the front gate. Luke’s property was deep in the hills, where the streets were largely unlit. As Alex sped away in the dark, three police cars passed him on their way to the mansion.

  After a minute, Alex’s heart rate slowed enough that he could think again. Dmitri was huddled into a ball in the seat next to him, sniveling. “Don’t worry. You’ll see Luke soon.” Alex called Luke on his cell phone. “I’ve got Dmitri, we’re safe,” Alex said.

  “Al, thank God. Where are you?”

  “In my truck. Driving away. Is it safe to come back?”

  “Not yet. The police just got here. They’re searching the property.”

  “I’ll keep driving arou—”

  Alex lurched forward in his seat. Someone had rear-ended them—hard. Dmitri screamed. Alex glanced in his mirror and in the dark saw the shape of a car, its headlights off, speeding up to ram him again. Alex hit the gas and pulled away. The car stayed with him. Luke’s tinny voice sounded from Alex’s cell phone, which he’d dropped between the seats. “Al? Al?”

  “It’s Crash! Crash is chasing us! Tell the police!”

  “Where are you?” Luke said.

  Hell if I know, Alex thought. The roads were all dark, narrow side streets. Alex hung a quick right turn and gunned the truck uphill on another street. Crash was slow to react—his brakes squealed, and he had to go into reverse before he could follow them. Alex felt grateful for the few extra seconds. The truck had a lot of power, but so did Crash’s car.

  The street leveled out, and Alex saw a streetlight ahead. Civilization, he thought. Seconds later, he saw that the streetlight stood alone. In a cul-de-sac.

  The street ended in a wide circle of asphalt. Don’t let this be the end, Alex thought. He bellied right as he got to the cul-de-sac and then turned the steering wheel sharply to the left. The truck reeled around to face the opposite direction. Dmitri was thrown against the door. He screamed again.

  Alex saw Crash’s car stopped in the middle of the narrow street ahead of him. He saw Crash step out of the car. He saw Crash point a gun. Instantly, Alex flipped on his brights and hit the gas. He pushed Dmitri’s head down, kept one eye above the dashboard and aimed the truck at Crash’s open car door. No—at Crash himself, standing behind it.

  The door came off like it was fastened with masking tape. Alex’s front bumper launched it into the air, where it fluttered and spun until it landed somewhere else. Alex didn’t look back. Downhill was the smart direction to go, and after a minute or two Alex reached a two-lane road with streetlights. A couple minutes after that, he was back in the city. At this hour, the streets were empty. He didn’t see anyone following him. He kept driving, though, just to be sure. He looked over at Dmitri, who had withdrawn into a ball. Alex placed a hand on his head, and the boy flinched.

  “That man is gone, Dmitri. He can’t hurt you anymore. I’m taking you back to Luke now, OK?” Dmitri didn’t react. Alex pulled onto a side street and called Luke.

  “It’s Al. We escaped. I think he’s dead.”

  “Thank God,” Luke said. “Is Dmitri all right?”

  “He’s pretty scared.”

  “I’m here with the police. Come back as soon as you can.”

  “We’re on our way.”

  Alex squeezed Dmitri’s shoulder and drove toward Luke’s house. Alex felt sad for the boy that there wasn’t a cure for nightmares. The cell phone rang again. Alex took the phone and started speaking. “We’re at San Vicente and Bundy,” Alex said. “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  The voice that responded was low and hoarse. “You missed me.”

  Alex yelled into the phone. “Crash—I’ll run you over again, you bastard.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll bring the boy to me.”

  “Why don’t you meet me at Luke’s house and we can talk it over?”

  “No. We’ll discuss it at Sheila’s apartment.”

  Alex was so surprised he almost dropped the phone. “What?”

  “Yes, Alex Fogarty. Les Frees warned me about you. And after he died, I figured that you and Sheila were working together. Then I followed her and proved it. Bye now. I’m stepping into her elevator.”

  The line went dead. In a panic, Alex pulled over and punched Sheila’s cell phone number into his cell. The call connected, then dropped. Alex dialed again, and this time went straight to voicemail. “Wake up,” he screamed into the phone. He dialed her home phone number. The phone rang on the other end. Once. Then again. “Pick up, goddammit!” Alex’s yelling made Dmitri cry again, and Alex wanted to slap him. Alex heard the phone pick up. “Sheila, get out of the apartment! Get out now!”

  “I’m afraid you’re too late,” said Crash.

  “I swear if you touch a hair on her head—”

  “A trade,” Crash said. “Sheila for Dmitri. You come alone. Simple as that.” Then he hung up.

  Alex threw his cell phone onto his dashboard. He saw that Dmitri was shivering. “I’m so sorry,” he said to the boy. He called Luke. “Change of plan,” he said when Luke answered.

  �
�What?”

  “Crash is alive. He’s in Sheila’s apartment.”

  “Who? My ex-wife?”

  “He’s going to kill her unless I give him Dmitri. Meet me at her building with the police.”

  “Wow. He’s really gone off the deep end. She lives at—”

  “I know where she lives,” Alex said, and he hung up.

  52

  In front of Sheila’s apartment building, before he said anything to anyone, Luke ran to where Alex sat, pulled the boy away and hugged him tight.

  “No one will ever take you from me again, understand? Never again.”

  The police had driven in with Luke, and an officer with an air of authority walked up behind him. “You say this Crash Bailey is in Ms. Hubbard’s apartment?” he asked Alex.

  “That’s right. He answered the phone there and threatened to kill her.”

  “And your relationship to her?”

  “We’re dating,” Alex said. Luke gave Alex a bewildered look. Alex just shrugged.

  “And your name is?” the officer said.

  “Alex Fogarty.”

  Luke’s look now was penetrating and unforgiving. Alex gave him the same look back. How do you like not being in control, for once? Alex thought.

  “We’ve got this covered,” the officer said. “We’ve evacuated the other apartments and shut off the elevators. We have a SWAT team ready to rappel into the apartment from a higher floor and incapacitate the suspect with flash grenades and tear gas—”

  “No,” Luke said. “It’s too dangerous. I’ll go up and speak to Crash. I’m the only one he trusts.”

  “Mr. Hubbard, we can’t let you go up there,” the officer said. He cast a wary look at Alex. “Or any other civilians. The suspect is too unstable.”

  Luke was about to protest when Alex’s cell phone rang. Alex answered it immediately.

  “I’m waiting,” said Crash.

  “It’s him,” Alex whispered to the others.

  Luke grabbed the phone from Alex’s hand. “Crash, it’s me. I’m going to get you out of this.”

  “I need Dmitri,” Crash said.

  “I know you do. Sit tight. I’m coming up.” Luke ended the call and gave the phone back to Alex.

  “What the hell was that?” Alex said.

  “That was some tough love. Now excuse me.” Luke started to leave, but the officer stopped him with a palm to his chest.

  “Sir, you need to let us do our job.”

  Luke got in the officer’s face. “Which is what? Shoot him? Maybe shoot her in the bargain? You need someone he trusts up there.”

  “Sir, we don’t do this by committee.” The officer’s voice was even, but he was fuming.

  “Get the chief of police on the phone,” Luke said.

  The policeman drew back in shock. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Fine, don’t,” Luke said. “I’ll call him myself. Did I mention that Joe and I play golf together?” Luke pulled a cell phone from his pocket and began scrolling through the contacts.

  The officer hastily said, “Put your phone away. I’m not waking the chief. Look, we’ll put you and Crash on the phone with one of our hostage negotiators, OK?”

  “Very good,” Luke said. “And I want this joker locked up.” Luke turned to where Alex had been standing, but Alex was gone. “Where? Son of a—”

  The officer spoke into a mouthpiece fastened to his chest. “We’ve got a civilian that just entered the building. Repeat: civilian in the building. Do not shoot.” To no one in particular, the officer grumbled, “I’m gonna kill that guy.”

  “Don’t you have officers inside who can stop him?” Luke said.

  “I’m not going to take them away from their positions. Protecting the hostage comes first.” After thinking a moment, the officer added, “I’m just gonna have to send in the SWAT team now, before your friend makes it to her apartment.” He reached for his mouthpiece to give the order.

  Luke grabbed the officer’s wrist. “Wait,” he said. “Now you really do need me.”

  53

  After slipping away while Luke and the police officer argued, Alex used the keys Sheila had given him to open an exterior door to the building’s staircase. Seeing Crash so unhinged made Alex consider whether Crash alone was behind the car accident. Alex only had circumstantial evidence of Luke’s involvement. But what about Crash? Crash had killed Petra. And he was tight with Frees.

  But if Crash orchestrated the accident without Luke’s knowledge, what was his motive? Who knew?—Crash was nuts, after all. As Alex raced up the staircase, he considered that he still needed hard evidence to link either Luke or Crash to the crime.

  Then Alex realized that he might already have the evidence he was looking for—if he was lucky. He stopped in his tracks. He figured he had a few moments to spare before the cops outside realized he was in the building, and Alex preferred to know just how guilty Crash was before confronting him upstairs. Alex slapped the different pockets in his jacket until he found the cell phone that he had taken from Les Frees’ motel room. He had forgotten all about it. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see if Frees had conferred with anyone—like Luke or Crash—around the time he planted the bomb that killed Beto? Alex navigated the phone’s glowing menu in the darkness of the stairwell.

  The phone’s log of calls made and received didn’t go back in time as far as the MacArthur Park bombing, but it did cover more recent calls. The call log was organized with the most recent calls first. The log started off in a heartbreaking way with a call from a contact identified as “Mom” early on the morning that Frees’ body was found. Alex remembered seeing Frees’ sorrowful mother at the funeral. Even murderers have mothers, he thought. Alex kept scrolling through the recent calls.

  The day before that, the day Frees died, there were three separate calls to and from a local number, a phone number that Alex recognized. Alex stared at the little screen on the phone. He felt confused, then vaguely uncomfortable, and then everything became clear—what happened to Les Frees, what happened in the car accident.

  Sheila’s apartment was ten flights up, but Alex felt a new surge of adrenaline that carried him quickly up the floors, three steps at a time. He knew that Crash was armed. He knew that his own gun was back in Dmitri’s bedroom. Yet now he also knew the key to the entire puzzle.

  To put the pieces together, he needed to get to Sheila’s apartment before the SWAT team stormed the place and turned it into a slaughterhouse. What the hell would Alex actually do once he was in the apartment? He’d figure out the details when he got there, if he could still stand up straight. Boy, he thought, an elevator would have been nice.

  * * *

  In the elevator, Luke wouldn’t stop talking.

  “Think about it, Clancy. You go in there with me, and Crash sees you with your helmet and your body armor and your black rifle? He’ll start shooting.”

  The cop stared straight ahead at the digital display on the wall in front of him, refusing to react. Fourth floor, fifth floor.

  “And when Crash starts shooting, you’ll start shooting,” Luke said. “Your brother officers coming through the windows and they’ll start shooting. And then? Then people will get shot. You’ll be fine—probably—you’ve got the vest.” Luke patted the Kevlar vest covering Clancy’s chest. “But Sheila? That nut who’s running up the stairs right now to the apartment? Me? Who knows. Can you live with that?”

  . . . seventh floor . . .

  “We got our procedures,” the officer said. “I gotta call the lieutenant on this one.”

  “There’s no time to check in with teacher, Clancy. This one is all you. You’ve got to make the call, and—you know this—there’s only one call to make. And you don’t have time to ask for permission, so you’ll just have to ask forgiveness.”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “Clancy, here’s all you need to know: if you let me go in alone, Crash and Sheila and I have a chance of making it out alive; if you insist on co
ming in with me? Bloodbath.”

  A light above the doors flashed on. Ding.

  Clancy shook his head in resignation. “It’s your life, Mr. Big Shot.”

  54

  At the tenth-floor landing, Alex cautiously opened the door to the interior hallway. His lungs felt like he’d inhaled burning smoke, and his thighs felt like clay. He panted while he walked toward Sheila’s apartment, trying to recover his breath. As he neared the middle of the hallway, the light above the elevator doors lit up and a bell chimed. The doors opened, and Alex was shocked to see Luke, standing in front of a cop in body armor and a helmet.

  Luke was as blasé as ever. “You should really try the elevator on the way down,” he said to Alex.

  “How did you—”

  Luke and the cop stepped out of the elevator. “When we spotted you entering the building, I made the lieutenant see that the only way to stop you from making a mess of things was to send me up to talk with Crash. So, thank you, I guess.” Luke turned to the cop. “See you soon.” Then Luke walked quickly toward Sheila’s apartment.

  Alex muscled his way even with Luke, which Luke seemed to expect, and they walked as a pair to the apartment door.

  “By the way,” Luke said, “how long have you been screwing my wife?”

  “Not as long as you’ve cheated on her.”

  That made Luke laugh. At Sheila’s door, Luke knocked loudly. “Crash, it’s me,” he called. “I’ve got Sheila’s boyfriend with me. We’re coming in.”

  Luke opened the door slowly, and they both entered. The lights were off inside the apartment, but the sun was beginning to rise and everything was visible in grays that were starting to warm into color. Alex saw Crash standing in the living room. Sheila sat on the couch in her pajamas. She wasn’t tied up. Crash was relying on fear to keep her in place. She sure looked afraid.

  “Crash,” Luke said. “I can get you out of this, but you’ve got to listen to me.”

  “I want my son,” Crash said.

  Sheila unexpectedly began crying, and the others turned to watch her. “You see this, Luke?” she said between sobs. “This is all your fault.”