Blood On The Bridge

by Zack Klika

  “You’re in,” Chris said.

  “Anything on it?” Lee asked, turning onto Main Street.

  He crept along the back road on his way to a BBQ spot for a late lunch. Chris’s fingers glided over the keyboard.

  “It’s pretty bare. There’s a folder with some photos in it.”

  Chris turned the laptop to him. Lee glanced at one of the photos Chris had pulled up, trying to concentrate on the road and the photo at the same time. It made his head ache. Buck was unmistakable in the photo. He was leaning into a car with a brown paper bag dangling in his hand. Lee looked back to the road. He realized his interest in finding out what happened to Jennifer was growing at an exponential rate. But he had enough problems of his own.

  Lee hooked a right into a neighborhood, a shortcut to the BBQ joint. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a black sedan turn in behind him.

  “You see that?” Lee said.

  Leaning forward, Chris tried to concentrate on the sedan in the side mirror. “Yeah, what about it?”

  “I think it’s following us.”

  “Really?”

  Lee sped up and turned left, then right. The car continued on behind them, probably twenty feet if Lee had to eyeball it.

  “Damn, man,” Chris said. “You’re right.”

  Lee hooked another right and then left. The car was still behind them. The main road was coming up ahead. Lee and Chris were both looking at the sedan when it turned into a parking spot in front of one of the homes. Lee let out a deep breath and laughed. Chris shook his head. Lee turned his attention back to the road and slammed on the brakes. A white pickup truck was speeding towards them in the wrong lane.

  “Back it up,” Chris shouted.

  Lee threw the van in reverse and backed right into a brick mailbox.

  Chris looked pissed. “What the fuck.”

  “The steering wheel slipped,” Lee said, his breath catching short, adrenaline kicking in. If these guys wanted a chase, Lee was going to give it to them.

  Lee threw the van in drive and gunned it into the street, thumping over a curb and escaping around the right side of the truck.

  “They’re coming after us,” Chris said.

  His nerves shot, Lee looked at the rearview mirror. The truck had spun around and was speeding towards them. The circular red light at the four-way intersection came up faster than Lee had expected. Out of options and with no time to check for traffic, he went for it, mashing on the gas.

  Lee whipped the steering wheel to the left, screeching onto the four-lane wide road, almost getting clipped by an oncoming truck. Vehicles were slamming on their brakes all around him and laying into their horns. Lee ignored them all. He picked up speed, hitting sixty before he knew it. The white truck was still behind them and closing in fast. Lee swerved in and out of traffic. Gear in the back of the van was thrashing around and making awful metal on metal sounds.

  A small red coupe going well below the speed limit almost cut the chase short, but Lee swerved into oncoming traffic and passed it. Lee threw up an apologetic hand when the oncoming vehicles lay on their horns.

  “We gotta lose these guys,” said Chris.

  Lee agreed, though Chris seemed oddly calm. Another four-way intersection was coming up fast.

  “We’ll lose them here.” Lee white-knuckled the steering wheel. The light was green. About one hundred feet out, the light switched to yellow.

  Chris looked over to Lee. “Don’t risk it.”

  “We gotta get away,” Lee said, a fierce determination in his eyes.

  Chris put a hand on the door and another on the dash, bracing himself for an impact.

  Twenty feet out, the light went to red. Lee was doing eighty miles per hour. No way he could stop now. Lee swerved around the vehicles stopping at the light. He and Chris yelled with everything they had those last twenty feet as the van hiccuped over grooves in the shoulder lane. Lee looked over and could have sworn he saw Chris saying a silent prayer. The van blew through the intersection, right between an opening made by two vehicles slamming on their brakes.

  The prayer worked.

  Both of them exhaled deeply, still speeding down the road. Lee slowed down as an oncoming bend in the road approached. He smiled the kind of smile people do when they had no idea what the fuck they were doing and ending up looking good doing it. Chris was taking deep breaths and blowing them out towards the roof of the van.

  Before Lee could make a joke about the recent chain of events, the white truck hit the back right corner of the van, causing it to spin out of control. The sound of metal crunching in on itself reverberated throughout the van’s cabin. Lee saw the white truck out of his peripheral vision before it hit them. There was no time to avoid it, though. He tried to brace himself for impact, managing to stiffen his back and press his head against the headrest. No use. His head bashed into the driver’s side window and shattered it.

  After the van finally came to a stop in a ditch on the side of the road, Lee touched his forehead and realized his cut from Danny was busted open again. There was a ringing in his head, like a grenade just went off close range. Blood dripped down the side of his face onto his white work polo. He knew it would be hell getting the stain out. Chris shook his head in the passenger’s seat. He looked to be unharmed.

  “You all right?” Lee asked.

  Chris looked himself over. “I think so.”

  Outside of the van, they saw the truck had slammed to a stop ten feet in front of them on the road. Two men in jeans, T-shirts, and baseball caps were headed straight for them. Lee tried to start the van, but Chris stopped him.

  “Wait here,” Chris said. And then he hopped out of the truck.

  Lee watched as Chris walked up to the two men who probably spent five days a week in the gym. Not bodybuilders, but they were big. Looked like soldiers. Walked like soldiers. They each had a few inches on Chris. Lee saw one of the guys point to him in the van and say something, but Chris shook his head.

  The first guy, the beefier one, tried to push Chris aside and caught a right hook for his efforts. He went down quicker than a raindrop. The second guy took a fighting stance. Chris just stood there, like he was critiquing his form. Lee wondered what tip he would have given the guy.

  The guy tried to close in on Chris, jabbing twice with his right hand. Chris sidestepped the first jab and ducked under the second jab, connecting his left fist with the guy’s ribs. A funny sound came out of the guy’s mouth as he arched to his right and stumbled forward. Chris grabbed him by the shirt and introduced his oily forehead to the guy’s nose. Lee had never seen blood squirt like that before. It was like something out of a bad kung fu film. After a moment, the man resumed his fighting stance.

  There were times when you knew lying down was your best bet, but the payoff of a bigger gamble egged you on. This guy had a gambling problem. He lunged at Chris with his arms spread wide, no doubt trying to wrap him in a bear hug. Two steps were all the man took before Chris sent him falling to the ground with a blink-and-you’d-miss-it uppercut. The man didn’t get up again.

  It all happened fast. But not fast enough. Spectators watched from their cars, waiting for the wreck to clear up so they could continue on. Chris hurried back to the van.

  “Let’s go,” was all he said to Lee when he hopped back in.

  Lee turned the ignition and the van started right up. He drove up the grass hill, past the white truck, and back onto the road.

  “How are we going to explain this to the boss?” Lee asked.

  “He’s got insurance. We’ll tell him it was a hit-and-run.”

  Lee thought about it. That might work.

  “You’ve got bigger problems, though,” Chris said. “Those guys knew about the laptop.”

  “That’s not possible. Only three people know I have that.”

  “Was one of them the cop that was okay with your ass going to jail?”

  He was right. That didn’t make any sense to him, though. Conn got him the
laptop. No. It wasn’t her. It couldn’t have been Riley either. She could have just given the laptop to those guys if she’d tipped them off. Whoever Buck was working with was trying to tie up loose ends. Lee continued on down the road.

  Little white lights started to cloud his vision. He tried to shake them away.

  Chris said, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just . . . ,” Lee said, trailing off. Something wasn’t right. He barely stopped the car before passing out.

  Chapter 41

  The sky had an orange glow to it when Riley walked through the sliding glass doors of the Emergency 24. Not long now and it would be pitch-black out again. Something about the darkness comforted her. It was easier to blend in with the night. She didn’t get that feeling that people were looking at her, watching her.

  A bespectacled male nurse with a weak chin and oddly shaped shaved head was at the reception desk going over a sheet of paper with a red Sharpie. There were two waiting areas, each with eight chairs in a box formation around a table. The male nurse looked up and smiled at Riley.

  “Evening, how can I help you?” he asked.

  “I’m looking for Lee Parsons.”

  The nurse checked his roster and frowned.

  “Relation?”

  “Umm. Friend,” Riley said with an awkward shrug.

  Chris stepped out of the bathroom on Riley’s right.

  “She’s with me,” Chris said to the nurse, throwing a paper towel into the trash can. He extended a hand to Riley. “I’m Chris.”

  “Riley,” she said and shook his hand.

  Chris led Riley through the double doors back to Lee.

  “Is he all right?” she asked.

  “He’ll be fine. Took another hit in the head, though.”

  “What happened?”

  “A car chase,” Chris said and winked.

  Stopping by a hospital bed that Lee was sleeping on, Chris found a seat on one of the chairs by the vitals monitor. IVs ran to Lee’s arm. Fresh stitches held the gash in his head together, and a white bandage with little red dots covered the left side of his face. Riley put a hand on Lee’s arm. He looked rough.

  “Do you know who it was?” Riley asked.

  “It was two guys. They looked military-bred. Fought like it too.”

  “Why military?”

  “I saw a unit insignia tattoo on the inside of one of the guys’ arms.”

  “Anyone see what happened?”

  “A few people in their cars, but we got out of there before any cops showed up.”

  Riley shook her head. She had caused this. If she had told Lee about Thomas, maybe he’d be okay right now.

  “What were they after?”

  “This,” Chris said, and pulled Jennifer’s laptop from his backpack.

  “Shit. How’d they know about that.”

  Chris shrugged. “It’s your problem now.” He handed her the laptop. “I was able to get into it. The password is ‘birdcage.’”

  Riley took the laptop and opened it. She ran through just a few of the photos on it. She recognized Buck in some of the photos, leaning on the hood of a truck, talking to someone hidden by shadows. Was Jennifer spying on him?”

  Riley scribbled a quick note on a sheet of paper from her notepad and left it next to Lee on the nightstand, then thanked Chris for the laptop and left.

  *

  Back at her apartment, Riley tried to call Conn but got her voicemail. “I’m in,” was the only message Riley left. She combed through the photographs on Jennifer’s laptop. There was a photo of Buck at what looked like a fight in the woods. Spectators crowded around two men fighting. Danny was standing next to Buck. She recognized him from the photos on the news.

  There was a stream of photos that looked like the back forty. Trash littered the banks on either side of the road. A washing machine was in one of the shots, sitting between two tall trees. People loved to litter on base. Cleaning it up gave new soldiers something to do anyway.

  Riley continued on through the photos. There were CCTV images of a five-ton truck driving down a paved road that looked to be part of the back forty, time-stamped 21:15. The night hid the identities of the driver and passenger. A large camouflage tarp covered the back of the military vehicle. The next few photos were of the same truck leaving the front gates, time-stamped 23:30. Andrew was visible in the driver’s seat, and an unidentifiable passenger was next to him.

  Skipping through the photos, Riley stopped on one of a building that she recognized.

  There were some exterior shots of the Special Forces command building. The man coming out of the building in the shot was unforgettable. The next four photos got closer and closer to Colonel Wright’s face. He looked as pleasant as he had when Riley met him. There was a video on the laptop of Colonel Wright and Jennifer training at an obstacle course. Riley thought back to her conversation with Colonel Wright. He’d said he had only met Jennifer once. Why lie about something like that? The angle of the video led Riley to believe that it was taken from a stationary camera placed in a tree. Jennifer was resourceful all right.

  Riley thought back to her meeting with Colonel Wright. The makeup. The bandaged hand. Of course. Why hadn’t she connected the two before? But she knew why. She had underestimated the ruthlessness of someone based on his looks. All he did was smile Riley’s way and she fell right in. Colonel Wright could have killed Jennifer. But why? And how was he connected to Andrew Brown?

  Chapter 42

  Conn spent the better part of the day going through the few files Lane had gathered after catching Jennifer’s case. She even made a trip out to the bridge where Jennifer was found. It seemed even creepier in the day. When she left the bridge, her phone chimed, and she listened to the voicemail from Riley and shot her a text saying she could come by later that night. But that was almost an hour ago and she still hadn’t heard back from her yet. The clock at her desk said 6:48.

  Going through the case file at the police station, Conn noted that a case like this had the potential to drive a good detective mad. The problem was that it had become less and less about finding out who murdered Jennifer and more and more about finding out why. Why would someone do that to another human being? Drug deals gone bad made sense to her. Verbal arguments between couples that turned to violence were easy to explain. Even a fight between two people over a parking spot was easily explained. But what was done to Jennifer was senseless.

  “Why?” Conn asked out loud, a picture of Jennifer at the crime scene in her hand.

  “Still on that, huh?” Johnson said from behind her.

  Conn dropped the photo and looked over.

  “No. Just looking over Lane’s report.”

  “I get it,” Johnson said walking over to his side of the desk. “I do. You can’t explain the feeling, but something inside is telling you you’ll never be able to let this go if you don’t figure out what happened.”

  The inside of Conn’s mouth was getting sore from chewing on it. He was right. She couldn’t tell him about the laptop, though. He might want to help if he knew about it.

  “How do you do it?” Conn asked him.

  “Turn it off. Any feelings you have for any criminal or victim that comes across your desk. Just turn them off.”

  Conn looked down at the photo of Jennifer. She couldn’t turn this feeling off.

  “You’re right,” she said and slid all the documents and photos into a folder and tossed them in her drawer.

  “You wanna grab a drink?” Johnson asked her.

  “Not tonight. I have to get back to the house and help Dustin with a science project.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s he making?”

  “A volcano.”

  Johnson grinned. “All right. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

  He grabbed his coat and headed out. Having a kid was nice like that. You always had an easy out from awkward social settings. Drinks with Johnson usually turned into listening to him ramble on about how 9/11 was an inside job, his
biggest slice of evidence being that the color of smoke rising from the towers was all wrong. Something about the gas running through the building would have burned a different color. It didn’t matter one way or the other if it was an inside job. Conn would always support the troops. One hundred percent of the time.

  She thought back to her days in the Army while sitting there. Missing it, really. Anyone would. Putting that uniform on every morning gave a person a sense of pride that couldn’t be found outside of the military.

  When she glanced up from her thoughts, she saw the night shift trickling in. A sign that it was a good time to leave. She went to the restroom and splashed cool water on her face. Her eyes were playing tricks on her from staring at a computer screen for most of the day.

  An envelope awaited her as she returned to her desk. There were no markings on it. Conn picked it up and looked around. No one was paying her any attention. She opened it and pulled out a photo of Dustin with a bull’s-eye drawn in red on his forehead. Her hands trembled with fear. Her eyes filled with tears of anger.

  “Who put this on my desk?” she shouted, looking around at everyone.

  No one claimed responsibility. Conn stormed to the front of the station, stopping at the desk sergeant.

  “Did you put this envelope on my desk?” she asked him.

  “Yeah, some guy just dropped it off for you,” he said.

  “What’d he look like?”

  “Big guy. White.”

  “What did his face look like?” she shouted.

  She imagined she looked like a madwoman to him.

  “He was wearing a blue hat pulled down over his face. I didn’t really get a good look at him.”

  Conn hurried out the front. No cars were leaving. Whoever the man was had already left. She ran back to her desk and grabbed her phone, fumbling with it but eventually getting a call in.

  “Let me guess, you’re running late,” her sister said when she answered.

  “Where’s Dustin?”

  “What?”

  “Is he with you?”

  “Yeah, he’s sitting next to me watching a cartoon. What’s wrong?”