Wrong Town: A Mark Landry Novel

by Miller, Randall H

  She blew her nose into the handkerchief and sobbed. “You don’t even know me, so stop playing me! Why would you help me?”

  Frank took a deep breath and quickly scanned the area. “Because I had a family once. I had a wife and a beautiful daughter. But I was never there for them. I lost them and I can never get them back. It’s too late for me, but it’s not too late for you. I’m not playing you, Lourdes. Look at me. If you help me, I will help you. But make no mistake—I am a serious man with a serious mission and limited time. So right now I’m gonna make you an offer and give you the opportunity to fix your life. But I’m only gonna make it once, okay? Look at me, Lourdes. Look at me.”

  Lourdes turned toward Frank and held the handkerchief over her face to muffle her sobbing. Frank held her free hand between his palms and looked directly into her eyes.

  “You said you love your babies. Your angels, right? And you don’t want them to end up like you, right? You want them to have good lives? You want them to have it better than you did, right?” She nodded and Frank continued. “Then tell me where Hector is. If you tell me where he is, I won’t bring you in. I’ll call a very good friend of mine and she’ll take care of you. You want treatment? You want to beat this drug bullshit? She can help you, Lourdes. I promise you she can and will help you. And then you can be there for your daughters. Kids need their mothers, Lourdes. You owe it to them to be around. It’s not too late to make things right, but you have to tell me where Hector is right now.”

  Lourdes squeezed Frank’s hand and gasped. “I will. But please don’t be lying to me.”

  Frank hesitated for a moment and then reached out with his long arms and pulled her closer in his best attempt at a fatherly embrace. “I’m not lying to you, Lourdes. Tell me where he is. I’ll call my friend right now and she’ll help you get clean. Just promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to be there for your girls. Can you do that?”

  “I promise. Just please help me,” she whimpered.

  “I will. And I’m also gonna let you keep the bags you put in the trunk. Hector’s not gonna need them.”

  One hundred fifteen

  Wendy was texting in the hallway when Mark burst through the doors at the end of the corridor. As he approached, she slipped the phone into her cargo pocket and started to speak, but Mark cut her off.

  “Where is she?”

  Wendy put a hand on his shoulder. “Listen to me first, Mark.”

  “Tell me where she is,” he demanded.

  “Mark, you hung up before I could fill you in. She’s conscious. Groggy as hell and being monitored closely, but she’s conscious.”

  “Okay. Now where is she?” asked Mark.

  “She’s in there,” Wendy answered, pointing with her thumb to the door behind her. “They kicked me out so they could do some more tests. As soon as they’re done, we can go in.”

  “No, I’m going in now,” he insisted.

  “Mark,” she said, placing her palm on his chest. “Give the professionals a few minutes to do their jobs. I told you, she’s conscious and knows where she is. Maybe they can make her better, but they can’t do it with you in the way. Just give them a couple of minutes and I’ll fill you in on everything I know. Okay?”

  Mark stepped back and nodded his head silently.

  “I spent the whole day at the house with her. We talked about everything that’s been going on in town. We ate. We slept. She was fine. She was better than fine. I hadn’t seen her that positive since the incident with the Lundgren kid. We were both scheduled to work eight to eight. I left first. She never showed up for her shift. No answer at the house or on her cell phone. I got worried and went to the house to check on her.”

  Wendy took a deep breath and looked up and down the hallway. “Her car wasn’t in the driveway, but I figured that maybe you had it or something. So I went inside to check the house but couldn’t find her anywhere. Walking back to my cruiser, I heard the hum of a car engine coming from inside the garage. I pulled the door up and found her out cold in the driver’s seat, in full uniform.”

  Mark winced and placed both hands on his head. “How long was she there?”

  “There’s no way to tell for sure, but we don’t think it was very long. When I reached her, she was still conscious but couldn’t really move or respond to me. I pulled her outside into the fresh air as fast as I could. She threw up, so I put her in the front seat of the cruiser and brought her here myself. They’re pumping her full of fluids and have her on oxygen and she’s been improving. I would have called you sooner, but once she grabbed my hand she wouldn’t let go, and I didn’t want to leave her alone until I knew for sure she was going to be okay.”

  Mark walked across the hall and sat down on a metal folding chair outside Luci’s room. “Oh, my God. I don’t understand. She’s been through a lot, but this morning she seemed rejuvenated. Why would she try to do this to herself? It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  Wendy sat down next to him and waited for two nurses to pass by. Then she leaned in close and lowered her voice. “Maybe she didn’t, Mark.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s been drifting in and out of sleep. But the last time she woke up, she spoke to me. You know what the first thing she said to me was?”

  Mark shook his head. “What?”

  “She asked, ‘Did you get him?’ The docs asked me to step out before I could any more out of her.”

  Mark’s eyes widened with surprise. “You think it’s possible that someone tried to kill her?”

  “I don’t know. It’s possible. She’s got her fair share of haters in town. But it’s also possible that she did it to herself and is now trying to cover it up. Or maybe what she said to me was just plain gibberish. I don’t know what to think. But I do know she was fine all day when I was there. I was the one freaking out over things. She was the calming voice of reason. None of this makes sense to me.”

  Wendy reached into her pocket and handed Mark a silver necklace with a guardian angel charm dangling from it. “Have you ever seen this before?”

  “No. Where did it come from?”

  “She had it in her hand when I found her in the car.”

  The door to Luci’s room slowly opened and two women exited. The one wearing blue scrubs smiled and made her way toward the nurse’s station while the other woman, wearing a long white lab coat and with a stethoscope hanging from her neck, finished scribbling notes on a chart. Mark leapt to his feet and startled her.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  The physician clutched the chart to her chest and took a step backwards. “Who are you? And what is your relationship to the patient?” she asked.

  Wendy stepped in before Mark could answer. “This is Luci’s fiancé, Mark. I just briefed him on what I know. Can you bring us both up to speed, please, Doc?”

  “Of course. Mark, I’m Doctor Marcy Chang,” she said, extending her hand.

  Mark shook it gently and glanced at Wendy. Being referred to as a fiancé was technically accurate but sounded odd. He and Luci had discussed their desire to marry, but had yet to make anything official. Either Wendy and Luci had discussed it earlier in the day, or Wendy was simply ensuring that the doctor would share information with him.

  “No major changes. She’s improving, but much more slowly than I’d prefer. Exhaustion from recent events doesn’t help and makes it difficult to accurately assess the damage, if any, from the carbon monoxide. Luci is conscious but drifting in and out of sleep. She’s been through a lot, and her body needs time to rest. She’s very lucky Wendy found her when she did. That’s all I know. I’ll advise you immediately if anything changes.”

  “Can I go in now?” asked Mark.

  Doctor Chang nodded and retrieved the vibrating pager from her belt. “I have to see another patient.”

  “I’ll wait out here,” said Wendy.

  One hundred sixteen

  Kenny watched from the front window as Frank Tagala’s car swerved in
to his driveway and screeched to a halt. After wrestling with his seatbelt for several moments, he opened the car door, fell to the pavement, and coughed up a mouthful of blood. Kenny checked the time. It was almost midnight.

  Frank stumbled up his front walk, falling hard every few steps before deciding to crawl the rest of the way on his hands and knees. He had paused to catch his breath before attempting to climb the stairs to the front door when a voice came from behind.

  “You want a hand, Frank?” asked Kenny, kneeling next to his neighbor.

  “Yeah, just help me get to the kitchen and I’ll be all set,” he answered. “I think I got a punctured ear drum and my balance is fucked up.”

  Kenny looked closer at Frank’s right ear and saw a trail of dried blood that extended all the way down his neck. He helped Frank to his feet and steadied him as they walked up the stairs together, just as Kenny had done countless times with his own father. When they reached the kitchen, he guided Frank to a chair, grabbed a towel from the sink, and wiped the blood and grime from the front of his own shirt. He glanced around. The house looked like a disaster and smelled like a dumpster.

  “What happened?” asked Kenny.

  “Huh? Oh, nothing you need to worry about,” answered Frank. “Grab me an ice pack and a glass from the freezer. And hand me the vodka bottle next to the refrigerator while you’re at it.”

  Kenny obeyed and watched as Frank filled his glass and chugged the entire contents while holding the ice pack on his swollen, bloody right hand. “That feels better already. Thanks, kid.”

  “Listen, Frank. Mark filled me in on your theory about the guns that were used at Founders Field,” Kenny said matter-of-factly.

  “Oh yeah? That was nice of him to bring another person in on my failures. Here’s to Mark,” he replied, raising his glass and pouring half of it down his throat.

  “What did you find out? Anything that might help the authorities find the guys who did this to us—the guys who killed my father?”

  Frank put the glass down on the table and looked at Kenny through bloodshot eyes. “I didn’t know he was one of them. I’m sorry, kid. Your pop was a hero. Yeah, I found out what happened. The guns used in the attack definitely came from the bureau. Someone there actually arranged for those rifles to fall into the hands of a psychopath, some rogue Latin King member.”

  “Latin King? Is that the gang that’s been spray-painting around town? Why would they jump from vandalism to mass murder just like that?” Kenny asked.

  “They didn’t. Terrorism isn’t their thing. They’re all about the money. So he turned around and sold the guns, and they somehow ended up in the hands of the gunmen who shot up our town and killed your father. And it’s my fault.”

  “How is it your fault, Frank?”

  “Because I didn’t track the guns like I should have when I brought them in. I should have kept a closer eye on them so this couldn’t have happened. But I didn’t.”

  “What about the guy who got the guns? Is there any way to find out who he sold them to? Does anybody know where he is? Is anybody trying to find him?” asked Kenny.

  “I found him,” answered Frank as he finished his drink and poured another. “He put up a pretty good fight for a scrawny bastard. He’s the one who punctured my ear with a pen or some shit.”

  “Well, did you get a chance to question him? What did he say? Did he tell you anything? Come on, Frank. I want to know!” begged Kenny, raising his voice to get Frank’s attention and instill some sense of urgency.

  “He wouldn’t tell me anything at first. So I broke his nose and both of his arms. After that, things got out of hand.”

  You mean breaking someone’s nose and both of their arms isn’t considered out of hand already?

  “Frank, what happened? What did you do?”

  “I had him tied to a chair and was working him over. I told him he was either gonna die or tell me what I needed to know. Eventually he begged me to stop and said he’d tell me. But what he said didn’t make any sense. All he did was talk fucking gibberish. So I got upset and went to work on him again even harder. Face. Throat. Neck. I guess I went a little too far.”

  “Is he dead, Frank?” asked Kenny in astonishment.

  Frank took a long sip of his drink and nodded his head. “Yeah, and you’re looking at another dead man right in front of you.”

  “You? Why? I don’t understand, Frank.”

  Frank struggled to get to his feet but quickly collapsed back into the chair. “You’re looking at a dead man because it’s just a matter of time until someone finds his body. And when they do, my DNA is all over the scene, as well as half a dozen other scenes across the city. It’s over. My life is over.”

  Kenny stood silently with his mouth agape and his fingers laced tightly behind his head. He had known for years that Frank was a loose cannon. Everyone on the street knew that. But he never thought Agent Tagala was capable of brutally murdering someone with his bare hands. His instincts told him to get the hell out of the house and tell nobody what he had just heard.

  “I can see you have a lot to think about, Frank. So I’m going to go home unless you need something. And as far as I’m concerned, this conversation never happened. Try to get some sleep.”

  “I got nothing to think about. I’m done thinking. But suit yourself, kid. Do whatever you want.”

  Kenny left the kitchen and was heading for the door when he stopped dead in his tracks. “Hey, Frank,” he called back, “what was the gibberish?”

  “Huh?”

  “What was the gibberish? You said he started to talk but it didn’t make any sense to you. What did he say?” asked Kenny.

  “He was slumped in the chair and I could barely hear him. He kept saying the same shit over and over,” answered Frank.

  “Do you remember what it was?”

  “Yeah. He kept mentioning New Hampshire. Then some bullshit that sounded like ‘bubba gussin.’ But by that point he would have said anything to get me to stop. And I’m not even sure I could have. You should have seen how this guy abused women. The guy beat the shit out of the mother of three little girls. He deserved to die. Good fuckin’ riddance, Hector.”

  “Bubba gussin, New Hampshire?” Kenny confirmed.

  “That’s it. Pure gibberish.”

  One hundred seventeen

  Mark had seen many people in many hospitals over the previous twenty years. Some of those visits had been pleasant enough, even cheerful. Others had been gut-wrenching. But seeing Luci with an oxygen mask strapped tightly to her face and IVs running into both arms rattled him in an entirely different way. He felt helpless, as if a piece of his soul was dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

  She had woken up several times so far. The first time was shortly after Mark’s arrival. She had squeezed his hand and tried to speak but succumbed to exhaustion and drifted back to sleep. The second time, she simply looked over at him in the chair next to the bed for a few seconds before fading.

  When Luci opened her eyes an hour later, he spoke softly into her ear, told her he loved her, and asked if she was okay. “Yes, tired,” she said after he pulled off the oxygen mask so that he could hear her whisper. He kissed her on the lips before replacing the mask gently over her nose and mouth. She smiled and fell asleep again. She had not been awake since.

  Mark was exhausted too. He had slept for a few hours in the safe house, but the toll of the past two days on his mind and body had been significant. He leaned back in the chair, folded his arms across his chest, and closed his eyes.

  The phone on the night table next to Luci’s hospital bed rang, startling Mark and causing him to leap to his feet. Luci was fast asleep, so he quickly lifted the handset from the receiver to avoid the possibility of waking her with a second ring. Grabbing the base of the phone, he walked as far away from the bed as the cord would allow.

  “Hello? Yes?”

  “Is this Mark?” asked a familiar voice at the other end.

 
“Who’s calling, please?” asked Mark.

  “It’s Kenny. We have to talk.”

  Mark checked the time on his wristwatch. “How did you know I was here, Kenny?”

  “That’s not important. But what we have to talk about certainly is. First, is Luci okay? Can you come over, or do you need to stay there with her?” pressed Kenny.

  “No, it is important. Tell me right now how you knew I was here.”

  “Fine. I pinged your phone, but for obvious reasons there’s no way I’d ever talk to you on that device. Once I saw you were at the hospital, I scrolled through their recent admissions until I saw L. Alvarez on the list. Then I called and asked for her room. I figured you’d be there and I was right. Not that hard. Not a big deal.”

  Mark’s blood pressure rose and his pulse quickened. “Yeah, it is a big deal. You can’t simply scroll through hospital admissions and private medical records, Kenny. So you hacked into the hospital? That quickly?”

  “I didn’t look at anybody’s medical records, Mark. Those are none of my business. I just looked at the names. People like me do have some ethics, you know. Anyway, I hope she’s okay,” Kenny offered earnestly.

  “She is. She fainted at home in the kitchen, so we came here so she could get checked out. It was just exhaustion and a little dehydration. She needs rest. That’s all.”

  “Good. So I need to talk to you and show you a few things. How soon can you get here?”

  “It’s late. I don’t know what you think is so important that you needed to do this, but can it wait until the morning, Kenny?”

  “I don’t know, Mark. Maybe, maybe not. He may not be there in the morning.”

  Landry took a long, deep breath and tried to keep his cool. “Who the hell are you talking about, Kenny?”

  “I’m talking about the fourth shooter. I think I might have found him.”

  One hundred eighteen

  Mark turned onto Chestnut Lane just after 1:00 a.m. But instead of taking his foot off the gas and letting gravity deliver him to the bottom of the hill as usual, he pushed the dark blue Ford Explorer as quickly as he could until he had reached Kenny’s driveway.