Only now did I stop to think about what I had done. I’m driving around unarmed in the middle of the night, following potential murderers. Oh God. I must be as crazy as everyone thinks I am!
“Nick, I’m sorry. I know it’s late. I just didn’t think I should call the police. At least not yet.” I was babbling but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
Nick cut in, his voice low and reassuring. “It’s okay, darlin’. Just tell me what’s going on.”
The light changed and I moved ahead, careful to keep a healthy distance between the two cars. “Craig was parked in front of my house again. And then some guy showed up and it seemed like he was hassling Craig, but I couldn’t be sure. They took off in Craig’s car, so I jumped in mine and followed them. They just made a right onto Washington and it looks like they’re heading towards the river.”
“I’m not far from there. Stay on the line with me and if you’re spotted, turn around and drive to the nearest police station.”
I felt tons better now that I was in contact with Nick. I kept my eyes on the car ahead as it traveled North on Delaware Avenue. We were parallel to the river now. I could see the big naval ships floating in the harbor. During the day this area is bustling with activity, but at night it’s just plain spooky.
A big deserted parking lot loomed ahead. The Toyota began to slow down, pulling into the lot and cruising to a stop next to an upscale riverfront restaurant. It was closed for the winter. I cut my lights and parked behind a dumpster, about a hundred yards away from the Toyota.
“I’m at Clancy’s Steakhouse,” I told Nick.
“Got it.” He said something else but it was lost in a garble of static. My phone was cutting out on me.
“I can’t hear you,” I shouted, but the connection was lost. I tried to punch in his number again but I must have been in a dead zone. I truly hoped that wasn’t an omen.
I took out the binoculars and scrunched down in my seat. From my vantage point I could see the hooded stranger exiting the car. Craig got out too—reluctantly, from the looks of things. He was hanging onto the door frame when the other guy yanked his arm away from it and began prodding him towards the river. Craig didn’t need much prodding, as his companion was holding a gun.
“Oh shit,” I said, breaking out into a huge, clammy sweat. I tried the phone again, this time to call the cops, but I couldn’t get it to work. My sense of self preservation kicked into high gear and screamed at me to get the hell out of there in a hurry. Unfortunately, the rest of me couldn’t leave Craig alone and helpless to fend for himself.
They were standing alongside the guard rails now. I could see ice patches floating on the water. The wind had picked up, driving the mini icebergs upstream. Craig was gesturing with his hands, the way little kids do when they get excited. The guy in the hooded jacket tucked his gun into his pocket. “Well, that’s a good sign,” I thought. “Maybe he just wants to talk to Craig,” when without warning he raised his arm and smacked Craig hard across the mouth. Craig’s hands flew up to his face, trying to protect himself from another assault.
Nick, where the hell are you?
The man hit him again. I watched in horror as tears mixed with blood streamed down Craig’s swollen face. Now the guy was pummeling him in earnest. Craig tried to ward off the blows, but he was no match for the larger man, who began shoving Craig towards the break in the railing leading to a docking ladder. Reaching inside his pocket, he pulled out the gun and held it to Craig’s head.
Without thinking I gunned the engine and tromped on the gas, flying across the open parking lot towards the two men. I hit the high beams and the horn simultaneously, momentarily distracting them both. Craig was the first to recover. He reached up and knocked the guy’s hand away from his head and took off running. But in one swift movement, the other guy raised his gun and shot Craig in the back. Craig stumbled and fell backwards through the opening in the railing, disappearing into the freezing water below.
I screamed and immediately a bullet pierced the windshield. Overcome by rage and exhaustion I floored it straight for the shooter. Trapped between the railing and the oncoming car, he tried to vault over the guardrail.
At the last possible moment, my common sense prevailed. Premeditated murder would not look good on a resume, no matter how justified I felt, so I slammed on the brakes, skidding into the guy and knocking him flat. He might still be alive, but he wasn’t going anywhere. His leg was trapped under the right front tire.
I jumped out of the car, ran over to the guardrail and peered down into the river.
I could just barely make out Craig’s motionless body, floating away on a small island of ice. I yelled out his name and thought I heard a muffled grunt in response.
I lay on my belly and stretched my arm out as far as it would go but I couldn’t reach him. I stood up, frantically searching for something, anything to hook onto Craig and haul him back in. “What the hell do I do now?” I shouted to the universe.
“You could start with getting the goddamn car off my leg, I’m dying here,” grunted a voice from behind.
I felt the blood rush to my face. Seeing as he’d just tried to shoot me, the needs of this asshole were not at the top of my list of priorities. I spun to confront him and promptly slipped on the ice, this time falling off the dock. Crap!
I hit the freezing water head on. Completely submerged, I held my breath and flung my arms and legs about, desperately trying to right myself. When I got my head above water I gulped for air and felt a stabbing pain in my chest. My lungs were a block of ice.
As I struggled to stay afloat, the weight of my clothes kept dragging me beneath the surface. I tried to peel them off, but they were too heavy, and in my panic I only succeeded in becoming more entangled. I sucked in a mouthful of water and gagged.
I’d only been in the water for a few minutes, but it felt like eons. I was exhausted. The water was so cold it burned, but soon that sensation went away and I could no longer feel my arms or legs. I knew enough first aid to be able to recognize the early warning signs of shock. The dock was only a few feet away, but it might as well have been a mile.
Oh my God. I cannot die. It’s simply unacceptable. If I die now I’ll never get to hold Franny’s baby, or sing at Paul’s bar mitzvah or visit “Cats That Look Like Hitler.com.” Dying would mean I’d never get to taste Uncle Frankie’s lasagna again, or go to a Phillies’ game, or laugh so hard with John I’d crack a rib.
It just wasn’t a good time to die. With my last ounce of strength I pushed down on the water and tried to propel myself forward, but it was a fruitless effort. If I die, I’ll never see Nick’s face again, or hear his voice or see him smile. I’ll never get to tell him that I love him, not for the way he looks, but for how he makes me feel.
I felt myself slipping under again, and in that instant I could almost hear him calling my name.
Chapter Fourteen
“How’s she doing?”
My eyes flew open and I found a uniformed stranger staring back at me. I tried to focus on her face but what with the lights and sirens it was all a blur. My chest felt like a truck had rolled over it and decided to park there overnight. I was encased in heavy blankets, and someone had placed an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose. Confused and more than a little claustrophobic, I ripped off the mask and inhaled the cold night air.
“Take it easy. You’re alright,” the paramedic soothed, taking the mask from my hand and readjusting the blankets.
I tried to turn my head in the direction of the other voice, but it was like trying to lift an anvil.
A murky recollection of being dragged and lifted from the water rushed back at me. Suddenly I felt a warm hand on my cheek and Nick’s face appeared before me. His clothes were soaked and as he knelt beside me I noticed an angry gash on the left side of his face, just under his ear.
“You’re bleeding! What happened?” I croaked. My throat was unbearably dry, which was odd, considering I’d just swallowed half the De
laware River.
“Don’t worry about it, Angel. It’s nothing a Tetanus shot and butterfly bandage can’t handle.” He cut me a smile, but he couldn’t hide the weariness behind it.
I struggled to a sitting position and looked around. I was at an utter loss for words. Nick had saved me. Again. Somehow a hearty “thanks” just didn’t seem enough.
An ambulance was closing its doors. It pulled away, sirens blaring. “Craig,” he informed me. “He’s unconscious but alive.”
Nick had arrived a few minutes after my phone went out and witnessed most of what had transpired. “You could’ve just driven away when you saw the gun,” he said quietly.
“No. I couldn’t.”
He picked up my hand and pressed it to his lips. “No, I guess you couldn’t.”
Someone rolled the car off of the other guy’s leg and was administering first aid. He looked over my way and started yelling. “Crazy bitch. She tried to run me over.”
Right on both counts.
We ended up back at the police station. A couple of detectives led Nick and me to separate offices and took our statements. They took Gun Boy over to Jefferson Hospital with a police escort. Turned out a bum leg wasn’t his only problem. Seems he was missing a middle finger too.
I guess our stories checked out because after an hour Nick and I were free to go. We ran into Bobby on the way out. He’d been up all night interviewing potential witnesses in the gang slaying. He looked like he could’ve used a couple of slugs of Red Bull.
I could tell by the look on his face that he’d already heard about my little adventure. Giving a cursory glance at Nick he turned to me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I flashed him two thumbs up. “I just need to get out of these clothes.” They had dried in the stuffy confines of the police station and were starting to give me a rash.
Bobby turned to Nick. “I can take it from here.”
If Nick minded being dismissed by Bobby he didn’t show it. “Bobby—” I protested.
Nick cut me off. “It’s okay, Angel.” He hugged me to him, his mouth pressed against my ear. “The man cares about you. Cut him a little slack.”
I hugged Nick back, forcing down a huge lump in my throat.
There was a longing deep inside me as I watched him walk away.
Seeing as my car was now “state’s evidence,” I didn’t have a ride back to my house. Truth was I couldn’t face going home yet anyway, so when Bobby suggested he take me back to his place to get cleaned up and pull myself together, I gratefully accepted.
“Oh, but what about Sophia?” I asked. It was four in the morning and she’d be waking up in a few hours. I didn’t want to get in the way of their time together.
“I knew I’d be pulling an all-nighter,” Bobby said. “She’s sleeping over at Eddie’s mom’s.”
DiCarlo didn’t say much on the ride home. His night hadn’t exactly been a piece of cake either. On the way out of the station I’d overheard some cops talking about the gang killing he was investigating. The unintended victim was a little ten year old girl.
Even though I was freezing my butt off, out of courtesy I left the window open. I didn’t want to stink up his car by smelling like week old dead trout. I leaned my head against the headrest and I must have dozed off, because when I opened my eyes we were passing Gavone’s Bar, and I knew we were close to his place.
Bobby’s house is in the neighborhood of 11th and Wolf. The homes along this block are old, spacious and affordable. We pulled up to the curb and he climbed out. I was a little slower on the uptake. That dip in the pool had taken its toll on me. Bobby came around and opened my door, stretching a hand out to help me.
I’d never been to his house before. Oh, I’d done the obligatory “drunken drive-by” one night with Fran and Janine when I first moved back to town,—a mini stalking expedition fueled by one too many margaritas, but this was the first time I’d seen Bobby’s digs up close and personal.
He let me in and closed the door behind him, tossing his keys on the end table next to a cranberry colored couch. A pile of foam rubber building blocks sat in the corner of the living room, along with a kid sized table and matching chairs. A tiny tea set adorned the table, complete with what looked like plastic cupcakes. I tested one to make sure.
I wanted to snoop around a little more, but Bobby gestured for me to follow him upstairs. “Bathroom’s straight ahead,” he said, detouring into what I assumed was the master bedroom. “There are fresh towels in the linen closet. If you give me your clothes I’ll run them through the wash for you after you’re finished in the shower.”
He emerged from the room carrying a long sleeved button down man’s dress shirt. “You’d swim in my boxers, so this’ll have to do until I can get your stuff laundered.”
“Thanks,” I said, getting all teary-eyed. “Listen, I don’t want you to go to any trouble for me. You must be exhausted.”
“Yeah, I am,” he admitted. “But I’m not the one who almost died tonight.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but something stopped him. He handed me the shirt, leaning over and sweeping the bangs out of my eyes the way he’d done countless times over the years. “Go take your shower.”
I stood under the steaming water and scrubbed Baby-No Tears shampoo into my hair. I’d left my clothes in a discreet pile outside the bathroom door. They really stunk. Maybe Bobby would decide they weren’t salvageable and burn them.
When the hot water ran out I climbed out of the shower, ran the blow dryer over it and then washed out my underwear and blew that dry too. I just couldn’t parade around Bobby’s house “commando.” I can’t even do that in my own house and I live alone! I slipped on his shirt and went to look for him.
He was stretched out on his bed, hands locked behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. The lights were off, but the curtains stood open letting in the light of the full moon. Not wanting to disturb him I turned to leave, but he sat up swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
“Don’t get up,” I said. “I can let myself out.”
“And how do you plan to go? No car, remember?”
Good point. “I can call a cab.”
“You know I’ll take you home any time you want to go. But you don’t have to rush off. Your stuff is still in the dryer.”
It seemed easier to stay than to explain to my mother why I was arriving home at dawn with no pants on. “Okay. Thanks. Do you mind if I use your phone? I want to check on Craig.”
“Already did,” Bobby said. “He slipped into a coma about an hour ago. I also called the station to see what’s up with the shooter. His name’s Sean McCauley and he’s not talking. He’s got some hotshot lawyer and bail’s already been posted.”
“Hmm. Must have a rich uncle stashed away somewhere.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Bobby followed me with his eyes as I paced around his room. Being in such close proximity to DiCarlo and a bed was making me nervous. I began fiddling with the things on his dresser. A couple of framed pictures of Sophia, his badge and wallet. A pink plastic bracelet with unicorns dangling from it.
He stood and walked over to me, taking the bracelet out of my hand. “This one’s mine, but if I ask Sophia real nice, I bet she’ll make one for you too.”
“You’ve always been able talk the girls into doing your bidding,” I told him, only half joking.
Bobby’s mood shifted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “All the girls but you, Bran. Why did you call Santiago tonight instead of me?” The question seemed to come out of nowhere but I knew he’d been brooding about it since we left the police station.
“Bobby, you were working. And even if you hadn’t been, you’ve got a daughter who needs you. What would you have done, run out on her in the middle of the night?”
Bobby took a step back and massaged his temples. He was making an effort to keep himself under control, but it was a struggle. “You’ve known this guy—what, two months? I’ve known you
a lifetime. He’s the first name on your Goddamn speed dial, for Christ sake.”
“How did you—”
He shot me a disgusted look. “Lucky guess.”
“Listen,” I said, “maybe I should go. You’re tired, I’m tired. I don’t want either of us to say anything we’ll regret later.”
“That’s right, sweetheart. Run away. After all, if we don’t talk about it, the problem doesn’t exist.”
Yeah. Kind of. “Look, I’m not going to have this conversation about Nick. Whether you like it or not, he’s been a good friend to me.”
And that’s when he lost it. “Is that what you think I’m upset about? Your relationship with Santiago?”
“But you just said—”
Bobby forced out a bitter laugh. “Santiago is just the tip of the iceberg. No, I’m not thrilled about it, but you’re a big girl. You get to pick and choose your friends all by yourself. But Christ Almighty, Brandy, this goes so far beyond that, it’s not even funny, It’s not about your choice of companionship. It’s about your constant need to do whatever the fuck you want whenever the fuck you want to do it, without any regard to how it impacts the people who love you.”
“That is not true,” I yelled, knowing full well he spoke the gospel. “But what kind of a person would I be if I could help someone and I just stood back and did nothing?”
Bobby slammed both hands down hard on the dresser. I think it was to keep from throttling me. “Will you just shut up and fucking listen for a change? It was one thing when you wanted to help Tamra. She was your friend and I know you’d never walk away from that. But now you’re risking your life for some bag of shit career criminal who would spit on you if you passed him on the street. You’ve put yourself in danger so often over the past few months, if I didn’t know you so well I’d swear you had a death wish.”
“A death wish! Well, that’s a lousy thing to say!” I tried to stomp out of the room, but he moved in front of the door, blocking my exit.
No Such Thing as a Free Lunch (No Such Thing As...: A Brandy Alexander Mystery) Page 20