by Jeff Shelby
He pointed at me. “Exactly. Yesterday, on the freeway, you and your friend showed me up.”
The knot that had been in my stomach doubled in size.
“I can’t have that,” he said quietly. He turned and waved over my shoulder.
I turned around to see Ramon and my other two escorts approaching us. They passed the armed men and stood in front of me.
“I’m not going to kill you, Mr. Braddock,” Alejandro Costilla said. “I actually like you. And it’s easier for me if you take care of your friend’s murder. I get to watch and cheer you on. So I’m not going to kill you.” He paused and stepped closer to me, his mouth right next to my ear. “But it might feel like you are going to die.”
The driver’s hand shot out toward my chest. I managed to knock it away and drove the palm of my hand into his nose. A fist caught me in the temple, and my vision blurred. Another exploded into my kidneys, and I fell to my knees.
I stayed there for a moment, trying to catch my breath, trying to fight the reds and purples that were swirling in my eyes. Something cold and hard smashed into the back of my head, and the colors changed from red to yellow to white and, finally, to black.
37
I came back slowly to the world, feeling as if the car that had run over me was still parked squarely on my body.
I tried to open my eyes, but they felt like they were sealed shut. I tried to sit up, but could only manage a groan that sounded distant and ugly, as my body rattled with pain.
“Noah?” a voice said. “You awake?”
I forced my right eye open and made out a fuzzy image of Ernie. I groaned again.
“You awake?” he asked again.
I brought my hand up to my eyes and rubbed them, slowly opening the other. Ernie came into focus.
“Ernie?” I said, my throat dry and raw.
“Yeah, it’s me, dumbass. How you feel?”
My arms felt heavy, my legs felt like lead, my back ached, and my head throbbed.
“Alright,” I mumbled. I cleared my throat. “Where am I?”
“My house,” he said. “Somebody called me, told me where to find you.”
I blinked my eyes, then tried to sit up. A fire roared up my spine and into the back of my head. I fell back down.
“Easy,” Ernie said. He was sitting on a chair and I was on a bed.
“Where was I?”
“Out on the beach in IB,” he said, shaking his head. “I guess they dropped you there when they were finished.”
Slowly, I remembered that I’d gone to see Costilla. I remembered the conversation.
“Imperial Beach?” I said. “I thought we were in TJ.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I got a call. You were where they said you would be, by the pier.”
I tried to sit up again, held still as my head caught fire, and managed to make it up to a hunched-over position. Ernie handed me a glass of water.
“Thanks,” I said, sipping it. “How do I look?”
“Like somebody kicked the shit out of you,” he said, shaking his head. “But I gotta say, I was wrong. I thought they’d kill you. But somehow you made it back.”
I nodded, drinking more of the water. I knew that the only reason I was alive was because Costilla had wanted it that way. He easily could’ve fulfilled Ernie’s prediction.
“I called Liz,” Ernie said.
I felt my eyes widen. “What? Why?”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” he said. “Carter’s in the hospital, he can’t help. I figured you didn’t want to go to the hospital. You told me you’d been talking to Liz about all of this.”
What I’d forgotten to mention was that I wasn’t supposed to go see Costilla.
“What did you tell her?”
He frowned. “That I dug you up off the beach after Costilla had pummeled you.”
“You said it was Costilla?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit,” I said. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, invisible spikes digging into the backs of my thighs. “Help me up.”
“Whoa, dude,” Ernie said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You are in no shape to go anywhere.”
“Liz on her way?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then help me up.”
“Why?”
“Because I gotta take off before she arrives.”
I pushed up off the bed and stood slowly. I felt like I had parts where they weren’t supposed to be and an awful case of the flu.
“Noah, you told me Liz knows what’s going on,” Ernie said, confused.
I braced myself on the back of his chair. “What I didn’t tell you was that I’m not allowed anywhere near Costilla.”
He looked at me, then realized what I was getting at. “Aw, Jesus. I’m sorry.”
I waved a hand at him. “Not your fault. You didn’t know. Help me to the bathroom.”
He hunched forward and I put my arm around his shoulders and we slowly made our way to the bathroom. I was encouraged that nothing seemed to be broken. The small things in life.
I stood in front of the sink and turned on the faucet. My reflection in the mirror didn’t scare me as much as I’d anticipated. A small cut over my right eye and a bruise on each cheek. Dried blood at the corner of my mouth. Most of the damage had been done to my legs and torso. I lifted up my shirt. Reds, pinks, and purples dominated my ribs and back.
“You can take a punch, I’ll say that,” Ernie said.
I grunted at him. I cupped my hands under the cold water and brought them up to my face. The water shocked me, and my head started to clear. I rinsed my face a couple more times and wiped my face with the towel hanging on the wall.
Ernie reached into the mirrored medicine cabinet on the wall next to us. He pulled out a bottle of aspirin and shook four out and handed them to me.
I swallowed the pills, drank another handful of water, and shut off the faucet.
Leaning gingerly against the sink, I said, “My car’s at the border. Can you take me?”
“You sure you can drive?” Ernie asked.
“I’ll be fine. I’m sorry I got you into this. Get me to my car and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“And you’ll owe me.”
“Big time,” I said.
He offered his shoulders again, but I waved him off. If I was going to drive, I’d better walk first. I limped behind him. I felt more awake, but I felt the swelling and bruising a little more, too. I silently pleaded with the aspirin to kick in.
Ernie led me through the single-story bungalow that he owned. It was a couple of blocks from the youth center. He’d bought it a couple of years ago, saying that he wanted to live in the neighborhood he worked in. It would’ve been dangerous for a guy like me to move into the neighborhood, but for Ernie, it was like the mayor living among his constituents.
As he reached for the door, a knock came from the other side of it.
He turned and looked at me.
I had momentary thoughts of looking for the back door, hopping a fence, and trying to get the hell out of there. Then I realized how long it had taken us to get from the bathroom to the front door.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Let her in.”
He opened the door and Liz stood there, glaring at us. In black slacks and a black blouse, she looked like a hot, female version of the Grim Reaper.
“Gentlemen,” she said. “Going somewhere?”
“No,” I croaked. “We were just both so anxious to see you.”
“Right,” she said. “And you look great, by the way.”
“I know.”
Ernie stood between us, unsure of what his role was.
I looked at him. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” he said, and I knew that he meant it.
I pushed open the screen door and limped out onto the porch. I looked at Liz. “You gonna cuff me?”
She put her hand behind my elbow to steady me and help me to her car. “No, you don’t look like y
ou can do much damage right now.”
“Exactly,” I said. “So why arrest me?”
“Because it gives me pleasure to Mirandize you,” she said.
Then she read me my rights.
38
Liz let me ride in the front seat.
“You’re really gonna do this?” I asked, as we zipped up I-5, passing the Mile of Cars exit in National City.
“Yeah,” she said, without looking at me. “I am.”
I shifted in the seat, a new wave of aches and pains surging through my body. “Maybe I should go to the hospital.”
“You look fine to me.”
“You’re not looking at me.”
“Well, then, you sound fine to me.”
I could see the anger in her face and in her body language. She’d told me what would happen if I went near Costilla again and apparently she was going to follow through on her promise to sit me in jail. I wasn’t pleased with that idea, but I knew that I was making her job harder. Not only because of what I was doing, but also because of who I was. I knew that her fellow officers were probably enjoying the fact that her ex-boyfriend was screwing up her investigation.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“No, you’re not, Noah,” she said. “You’re never sorry.”
“Well, this time I am.”
“Whoop-de-doo.”
We passed the old Rohr Industries plant, across the way from where Ernie said he’d found me. I hadn’t gotten a chance to ask him more about the phone call he’d received and how to find me. It was starting to sink in how lucky I was to be alive.
“I got some information,” I said.
“I could not care less.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I told you not to go near Costilla,” she said, glancing at me, her disgust apparent. “You ignored me. And now I’m the one taking shit for it.”
I felt the car speed up, her anger moving into the gas pedal.
“I had to go see him, Liz,” I told her.
“No, you didn’t,” she shot back. “You needed to talk to me first.”
“Why? So you could’ve told me to stay away again?”
She shook her head. “Look, I didn’t bust you on San Ysidro or the thing with Carter and leaving the scene. In fact, I defended you and kept everybody off of you. And in return you go behind my back and do the one thing I asked you not to do.”
It was like being chastised by a parent.
It worked.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Whatever,” she said, waving a hand in the air, ending the conversation.
We drove the rest of the way to the station in silence. She cuffed me loosely before we got out of the car and helped me up the stairs to the building.
She took me down a flight of stairs, past the processing office, and waved at a short, thick uniformed officer at a desk. He stood quickly and walked with us. We made a couple of turns until we came to a quiet hallway with several empty cells.
“What are you charging me with?” I asked.
“Being an asshole,” Liz said. “You’ve been guilty for a long time.”
The officer stopped in front of the first cell and unlocked it as Liz removed my handcuffs.
“You can’t just keep me here.”
“Watch me.”
“I get a phone call then,” I said, as the guard opened the empty cell.
Liz nodded. “In a little bit.”
She put her hand in the small of my back and guided me in.
“Not in a little bit,” I said. “Now.”
The cell door clanged shut, and I turned around. Liz had her hands wrapped around the outside of the bars. She nodded to the guard, and he disappeared down the hall.
“I’ll get you your phone call,” she said. “How about you tell me what you think you learned.”
“You wanna let me out of here?”
“Not particularly,” she said, smiling. “This is the most attractive you’ve looked to me in a long time.”
“Then screw you.”
“You did that and it wasn’t much to rave about,” she said, the smile getting wider. She was clearly enjoying this position. “You don’t wanna talk then?”
I shook my head slowly.
She shrugged. “Fine with me.”
Standing in a jail cell to call my own, I felt dumb, frustrated, and tired. Her explanation of what she’d let me get away with to this point had hit home. I’d been way outside the lines and she’d basically covered for me. I’d made her look bad by getting near Costilla again. I couldn’t blame her for being angry with me.
She turned to go.
“He knew, Liz,” I said.
She stopped. “Who?”
“Costilla.”
“He knew what?”
I turned and walked over to the bench next to the wall and sat down gingerly. She may have been right, but it didn’t mean I liked being locked up.
“You figure it out,” I said.
I heard her shoes click down the hallway.
39
“Braddock. Get up.”
The voice startled me, and I opened my eyes. I’d laid down on the bench and dozed off. As I tried to sit up, the stiffness in my joints and muscles slowed me. If the aspirin Ernie had given me had kicked in, I wasn’t feeling it.
Detective John Wellton was standing outside the cell. He wore an olive-green dress shirt, tan slacks, and a silver tie.
“Having a good time?” he asked.
“The best.” I managed to push myself to an upright position, but my back was arguing that it wasn’t a great idea. “Where’s Liz?”
“Trying to explain to the lieutenant why she’s got a private dick locked up down here with no charges filed,” he said, frowning.
“Am I out of here then?” I asked.
“In a minute,” he said, leaning back against the bars of the cell behind him. “Listen to me for a second, okay?”
“No thanks.”
“I don’t know what’s between you and Liz,” he said anyway. “And I could give a shit. But she’s covering your ass left and right and seems to care that you don’t die. Me, I think it would be easier if you were dead.”
I stood up and walked awkwardly over to the front of the cell.
“And you know what she gets for all her hard work? Nothing. A fucking headache, maybe, but not much else,” Wellton said. “You run around, pretending to be a tough guy and all, and she ends up picking up behind you. She wants the same thing you do.”
“And what’s that?”
He stepped toward my cell door. “To find out who killed your friend, you dumbass. You think she doesn’t feel guilty about what happened to her? You think it’s not keeping her up at night? Jesus. Everyone keeps telling me you’re a pain in the ass but a smart guy. Well, I see the first part, but I have yet to see the second.”
His words hung between us, as heavy as the iron bars I was holding on to.
“Why do you care?” I asked, not having anything else to say that seemed worthwhile. “I mean, about her.”
“Because she’s my friend,” he said. “And she’s my partner. You think it’s easy being partnered with a black guy the size of a sixth grader? She’s never said shit about it and never taken any shit from anyone about it. I mean, they tried to give her shit, but she wouldn’t have any of it.” He paused, staring at me. “I’d go to the wall for her because I know she’d go at least that far for me.”
I slowly began to feel like that guy in the cartoon where his head morphs into that of a jackass. I could feel the buck teeth and long ears sprouting.
“Get her,” I said. “I’ll tell her what I know.”
Wellton pointed at me. “Goddamn right you will. And then you’ll stay the hell out of her way. And mine. Because if you don’t, I’m going to make it so that the only thing I care about is seeing you go down.”
He stalked away, his angry footsteps echoing down the hall.
40
> A guard came to the cell and escorted me to a conference room down the hall from the cells. I sat there for about fifteen minutes, staring at my hands, before Liz came in.
“Before we start, I want to get something straight,” she said, sitting down in the chair on the other side of the table. “If you want to play around, I don’t-”
I held my hand up, interrupting her. “I’m done messing around. I promise.”
She studied me for a moment. “You just said you promised.”
I nodded. “I did. And I mean it.”
“Yeah,” she said, leaning back in the chair. “I know you do.”
When it comes to women, I’m admittedly not too hot in the communication department. I don’t especially like to talk about serious things or philosophical situations. They make me uncomfortable. When Liz and I were together and we did talk about those things, Liz sometimes doubted whether I was being honest with her. When she wanted the truth out of me, she made me say, “I promise.” I had never once compromised that understanding between us and didn’t intend to do that now.
“Costilla knows you’re watching him,” I said.
She frowned. “No way.”
“He said that he did. Does.”
“Why’d he tell you that?”
“Because I asked him if he killed Kate,” I said. “He said he didn’t, that he was using her to feed information to you guys.”
Liz squinted at me. “Maybe he said that because he didn’t want to admit to her murder.”
I laughed. “I was patted down twice. They knew I wasn’t wired and had no weapon. He could’ve killed me if he wanted to. He wasn’t lying to me, Liz. No reason to.”
“Guy like that doesn’t need a reason to lie. It’s what he does.”
“Okay. Did anything that you heard via Kate pan out? Meetings, deals, locations?”
Her eyes fluttered, and she looked away. I knew she was running the possibilities through her head.
“He told me the truth,” I said. “I’d bet everything I have on it.”
She leaned her elbows on the table. “Maybe. What else?”
I told her about how I was picked up in TJ and tried to describe where we’d met, and about Costilla’s missing money.