Miami Fire

by Rick Murcer

  “Mum—”

  “No. You listen to me now. I’ll be quiet when I’m finished.” Haley Rose closed her eyes, struggling for control.

  It reminded Chloe of when she was a child and had done something wrong and her mum was deciding between a switch or something else as a means of lasting education.

  Haley Rose opened her eyes, the fire diminished somewhat. “I think of what could have been almost every moment I’m awake and then some. I realize that none of the three of us would be here if things had gone down another road. It’s what mothers like us do. I rack this old mind to see what I could have done differently, but in the end, it does me no good because I couldn’t have done anything differently. Destiny, fate, or providence from Holy God are all involved in what happened, or none of them are—we can take our pick there.

  “All I truly know is that we’re here. Ian is safe. Jen is left pondering life and death, but safe. I’m beatin’ the hell out of myself a few times a day, but we’re safe, and none of us are the worse for wear, you kin?”

  Chloe nodded, relieved that her mum was prying this monkey from her back.

  She continued. “I know that you and Manny hold me no ill will, and I know that in my heart of hearts, not just from the words you’ve said to me. For that, I’m truly grateful. It has helped me cope with my own thoughts.”

  Haley Rose sipped her latte again. Chloe waited.

  “So, I woke this fine mornin’ and decided to take advantage of my new go at living a life. One for me.”

  Just then, Jen flew through the front door, pink backpack over her shoulder, her cell phone glued to her ear, a wide smile painted on her pretty face as she said goodbye to someone on the phone.

  “Hey, you two,” she said, rushing across the room to the kitchen. She then bent down and kissed her sleeping little brother, a sparkle in her hazel eyes as she gazed at him.

  Looking up, she winked at her granny. “You ready for a big night at the mall?”

  “So why is that any different than usual for us, child?”

  Jen looked at Chloe then back to Haley Rose, her grin wider than a clown’s mouth at a putt-putt golf course.

  “Well, I may need a prom dress after all,” she said, squealing and then putting her hand over her mouth as Ian groaned.

  As if practicing some Vulcan mind-meld trick, the three of them held their breaths and stared at Ian, hoping he would stay asleep. He did.

  “Did that Martin boy finally ask you?” asked Chloe, feeling excitement for Jen that could only be exceeded by her real mom’s . . . and maybe her granny’s.

  “He did. Seth Martin, the hottest geek in all of Lansing, asked me to go to the prom during chemistry class. It was kind of . . . well, really romantic.”

  “Chemistry class now? Well, what took him so long?”

  “I think Manny Williams, FBI special agent profiler, had something to do with it. I told Seth that Dad hadn’t tortured and killed any teenage boys for years. He finally believed me.”

  They laughed as Jen skipped down the hall toward her room, Ian still sleeping soundly.

  “There ya go,” said Haley Rose after Jen’s door had slammed. “She’s alive and moving on.”

  “She is. It’s great to see.”

  Exhaling, Chloe took her mum’s hand again. “Are you good, mum? Are we good?”

  “As right as rain. It’ll storm a time or two, I reckon, but we’ll be fine, all of us.”

  Good wisdom, thought Chloe. She also thought it time to ask one more question before they moved to the lighter side of life.

  “So what did you mean when you said you’re going to make a go at living a life for you?”

  Haley Rose stood from the table and smiled at her daughter. “You’ll just have to see now, won’t ya?” She headed down the same hallway that Jen had just traveled, on the way to her room.

  Chloe watched Haley Rose until she disappeared.

  Her mum was going to live her life, words that Chloe and Manny had been waiting to hear, but for reasons she didn’t understand, they’d left Chloe with a frown on her face and an unsettled feeling in her mind.

  CHAPTER-18

  Teamwork was essential to success in almost every endeavor known to man. Everyone doing his part made the world go around, in Manny’s estimation.

  Square pegs in square holes, round pegs finding the perfect partner, women and men finding their soul mates made for an easier life for all involved.

  But none of those philosophical or practical ideas were any more important than in the crime-fighting arena.

  Everyone had to do his job to the absolute best of his ability, revealing all he knew, not holding back even the quirkiest of ideas or thoughts, especially in a unit like the BAU. Even a workaholic Special FBI Agent knew that. That’s why Manny pushed himself so hard during these investigations. That, and the idea that the victims, by definition, demanded justice.

  It was also why he’d fought desperately to control his temper after Josh had called him to tell him that Belle may know something about this case and hadn’t said anything earlier. Apparently, she told Josh that an event she’d experienced in her childhood reminded her of this killer.

  Manny had known something was bothering her, yet he’d had no idea what.

  He fought off the anger again.

  An image of the man he’d pulled from that rusted chain-link fence in the musty alley in Lansing, then snapping his ankle, rolled to the front of his mind.

  “Anger” and “good cops” should not mix, not even be used in the same sentence, he supposed. In fact, it was advice he’d given to many, a mantra to not merely practice but to live by.

  Yet, here he sat in one of the smaller meeting rooms off of Miami-Dade’s main conference room, contemplating the ramifications of shaking Belle so hard her bones would rattle.

  He remembered what Gavin Crosby had told him a million times. “Easy boy, don’t let this job make you a news headline.”

  But this work was making him a little crazy, wasn’t it? He’d seen so much, and not just the physical—he’d dove deep into the forbidden waters of the serial-killer mind more than once. How much longer could he do that before something gave? He was only human, after all.

  He shook his head and grinned to himself, his mood lightening. “Wow. Take it easy Williams, whining doesn’t get it done,” he said out loud.

  Still, lighter mood or not, he understood he wasn’t entirely without grounds for his pissy attitude. If Belle had been forthright with the team from the get-go, they would be that much closer to finding this screwed-up bastard. Hell, maybe they would even have him behind bars. Better yet, in the morgue.

  But he also knew that people handle personal trauma and horrifying experiences differently. Some people tell everyone on the planet, which was far easier these days with the advent of the Internet. Many, however, kept traumatic events buried deep inside, often letting their minds hide from the reality of truth, repressing to the point that they never truly realize what had happened to them in the past.

  Then there are those in Belle’s boat. They remember. They allow that event to shape their lives on several levels, consciously or subconsciously. He’d bet part of the reason she became a cop was because of said incident, which he still knew nothing about.

  The door swung open, hammering the wall with such force that Manny felt the table leg rattle.

  He sprung to his feet, reaching for the Glock at his shoulder.

  “I’m going to tell him first and that’s the end of it.”

  “But Belle, you don’t have to do it this way,” said Josh, reaching for her as she advanced inside the room.

  Belle swung around and struck like a cornered cobra. The quick slap on Josh’s hand was notably loud, to put it mildly.

  “You can touch me when I say you can. I need to talk to this man alone. Do you feel me?”

  He’d seen some fearsome lightning in folks’ eyes before, but the blaze coming out of Belle’s eyes . . . Manny stepped bac
k.

  Josh stopped, his blue eyes wide. He looked at his hand, then to Belle, then to Manny, then back to his hand.

  Up to that point in his life, Manny didn’t recall ever using the word “flabbergasted” but nothing fit his boss’s and friend’s current state any better.

  By then, Sophie and Dean had crowded around Josh, Sophie laughing so hard that tears streamed down her cheeks. Dean was an almost polar opposite, shock scripted deeply on his bearded face.

  “Feel you? Is that what people say just before they get their ass fired for hitting their boss?” asked Josh.

  “You do whatever the hell you want, Joshua Corner, but you ain’t doing shit until I talk to Manny, alone. And . . . have I told you how much I hate repeating myself?”

  Taking three long, staggered steps toward Manny, Belle stopped a foot away, scanning his face so intently that he had to tilt his head to get her attention.

  She stood six inches shorter, but the fierceness of her body language combined with her obvious emotional state made her seem much taller.

  That wasn’t all. Sure, Belle was angry, almost in a rage, but that was only half of the story. This new member of the BAU also seemed frustrated and ashamed and embarrassed all in one. Manny guessed she had thought she had her motions under control. Cop control, he called it. But this case and her subsequent actions dictated otherwise. Control was and would always be an illusion, he suspected.

  His own anger became a distant memory. Belle’s current state reminded him that, above all else, the Guardian of the Universe was about people. All people, particularly the hurting. And this woman was in pain.

  “We need to talk, Manny. I have to—”

  Pulling Belle tight, he held her close even as she tried to pull away, then slowly, like sand slipping through an hourglass, she relented. She wrapped her arms around Manny. She shook for a moment, a tiny sob escaping into his chest.

  “You don’t have to do anything Belle. I get it. We all do. That’s why we’re a team,” he said softly, cursing his own self-centered pity party from earlier.

  About the people, Williams. Always.

  He felt her nod, exhale, and then step back from him as Sophie, Dean, and Josh approached.

  “You’re some kind of people whisperer, Manny,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry I got so angry. I just wanted to smack Josh for calling you and telling you what I shared with him.”

  “From where I’m standing, I think you did that, the smacking part, I mean. That was sweet,” said Sophie, grinning.

  “It was damn loud too,” said Dean.

  Josh faked a horrified look at his red hand. “I’ll not be able to use this again.”

  “Too bad. You’ll have to spend more time with your wife now, won’t you?” said Sophie, her grin even wider.

  “Smartass,” said Josh.

  Belle laughed, which caused the rest of them to follow suit. Her mirth was a magical quality. Manny thought they could all do with more of that.

  After reaching up to kiss Manny on the cheek, she motioned toward the faded veneer table. “Thank you all. Okay, it’s time to get this mushy stuff behind us. I’m ready. Let’s get to this,” said Belle.

  Dean closed the door and the five of them sat down, Manny across from Belle and Josh, Dean to his left and Sophie to his right.

  “First of all, Josh didn’t tell me much except that you may have some knowledge of this guy,” said Manny.

  Letting out a pent-up breath, Belle nodded. “It happened about twenty years ago. We were on vacation in Saint Kitts, as was the norm during the summer for my parents and me. My father loved the Caribbean way of life, and it was even a slower pace back then. As a teacher, he also loved the chance to spend time with the local kids. Mom and I spent a ton of time with him too, but the sun and sandy beach was what we held near and dear.”

  “I understand that one,” said Sophie. “I need to work on my tan. God knows that didn’t work out so well in Cozumel.”

  “I think you’re perfect the way you are,” said Dean.

  “Oh man, how many more points can this boy earn?” asked Sophie.

  “Later, you two. Actually not even later. I don’t want to know anymore. Belle?” Josh waved for her to continue.

  She nodded. “Good points for sure though. Anyway, I was thirteen, and this particular summer, we spent six weeks on the east side of the island at a small resort called Saint Kitts Palace. It had these little beachfront cabanas, small two-bedroom variety, maybe seven hundred square feet. You literally walked out of the front door to the beach and ocean sixty or seventy feet away.”

  “Sounds like heaven,” said Manny.

  “It was. The resort, cabanas and all, were lost in the hurricane of ’99. Hurricane Lenny. They didn’t rebuild and eventually sold out to a large resort corporation.”

  “Too bad,” said Sophie. “We could have screwed up another vacation by booking there.”

  “Yeah, not much luck on the vacation front lately,” said Manny.

  Belle frowned. “It’s funny how it made me feel when I found out the resort was gone. Childhood memories can be the best thing since white wine or the worst thing since grade B sci-fi movies.”

  “Hey, I like those,” said Dean.

  “That explains some things,” said Josh.

  “Go on, Belle,” said Manny.

  She shifted in her chair, folding her hands in front of her as she settled in.

  “That year, 1997, I was growing into a young woman, and puberty was a bit confusing. I remember wanting to spend less time with my parents and more time with a couple of the local girls I’d known for four or five summers, Cammy and Trisha. They were about my age, both skinny with braided hair down to their shoulders and great white smiles, so we had a natural propensity to hang out with each other. Plus there were some really cute boys on the island, and I was starting to notice. I wanted to have someone my age to talk to about the things I was feeling.” She grabbed a bottle of water sitting in the middle of the table and drank her fill then continued.

  “These two thought that pretty funny because they’d both had boyfriends, on and off, from the time they were ten or so. At any rate, they helped me by having the kind of girl talks and laughs that I needed.”

  Belle reached for the water again, her hand shaking as she pulled it back. Manny wondered if she thought she would spill the water. He also knew she was getting to the gist of this experience. He felt his stomach flutter with anxiety for her. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  “During our last week, in fact on the thirty-first of July, Trisha showed up bright and early so we could walk along the old railroad tracks that circled most of the island and explore a couple of old caves running near Bloody Point. We wanted to see the bats and whatever else along the way. And the island was supposed to be so safe, so . . .”

  Belle drifted for a moment, as if her mind’s eye saw something totally different than this room and the people sitting in the padded chairs.

  Licking her lips, she refocused and continued.

  “Cammy was late, as usual, but she knew where we were headed, so we took off. It was quite a hike, maybe four or five miles from the beach, but we were up for it.

  “We entered the rails from the southeast and began walking, laughing about silly things. Trisha always made fun of how I tried to say ‘mon.’ I picked on her because of her stick legs and big feet. The longer we walked, the more silly we got until it dawned on us that Cammy hadn’t caught up with us. We thought maybe she’d gotten into trouble with her mom, again, and was grounded. We were wrong.”

  Swallowing hard, Belle reached for the water, and this time was able to remove the top and take another long draw.

  She set it down, staring at the drops inside the bottle as they ran painstakingly to the bottom of the container.

  “What happened, Belle?” asked Manny quietly.

  She sighed. “We reached the area near the caves just after crossing one of the trestles that bridged a six
ty-foot ravine and began the last part of our trek along the river. We were kind of pinched between high rock walls and the water, so eventually we had to take off our shoes and walk in the water. It felt cool and wonderful, smelling like fresh rain and was as clear as a cloudless night.

  “We’d gone maybe two hundred feet when we came upon a shoe sitting on the muddy bank. It was white, but we noticed a red streak on the side that looked like paint. Trisha joked it was blood, trying to sound like Vincent Price. We laughed and kept going. We didn’t think about it because it wasn’t uncommon to find clothes and other things discarded along this trail.

  “Turning around a bend, the foliage became heavier, and the sun was blocked by the rocks. It was still light enough to see clearly, but Trisha took the flashlight out of her backpack and shone it in front of us. We went another hundred feet and came to the entrance of the cave. Right where the water from the river met the rocks was the match for the other shoe.

  “This time we stopped. It had gotten our attention because there were more red streaks on both sides of the shoe. It wasn’t paint because the red was milking into the water. We knew it was blood. Worse, we simultaneously recognized the shoe as Cammy’s.

  “Immediately Trisha began moving into the cave, screaming Cammy’s name. I never had the opportunity to ask her, but I think we both thought Cammy got there early to scare us or something then fell and hurt herself. It was the only plausible explanation.

  “I followed Trisha into the cave but neither one of us got very far.

  “A young white boy burst from the recesses of the cave, his khaki shirt and shorts covered in blood. He thrust an arm at Trisha, hitting her in the chest and sending her reeling. She hit the rocks hard, but caught herself and stayed up, yelping with pain just the same.

  “The next thing I knew, that boy was swinging a knife, a big knife, probably a machete, directly at my head.”

  Belle looked at Manny, her face expressing and perhaps releasing the pain that had been torturing her for over twenty years. He felt her gaze to his very core, doing his best to control the shiver threatening his spine.