by Chad Zunker
THIRTY-FIVE
Richie Maylor parked his truck on a downtown street four blocks away from his intended target. He found a spot where he could quickly pull out and be on I-35 seconds later. It would be critical for him to have a swift getaway. He checked the time on his phone, knowing every second counted right now. He needed to be ready. Reaching behind him to the back seat of the truck, he grabbed the long brown rifle bag he’d carried with him many times up to his cousin’s deer lease. He was an expert with the hunting rifle. He’d once hit a white-tailed deer at nearly three hundred yards.
But he would not be shooting a clueless deer today.
Stepping out of the truck, he shifted the bag’s strap over his shoulder and hit the sidewalk at a brisk pace. His heart was beating so fast right now. He really needed a joint to help calm him down. But he knew smoking weed might throw off his ability to perform the task at hand. And he couldn’t let that happen. He passed several people out on the sidewalks and wondered if any of them were familiar with a hunting rifle bag. Would they find it odd that he was walking down the street with one?
It didn’t really matter. He had to keep going.
He turned another street corner and rushed up the sidewalk. More checking the time on his phone, more nervous sweating. He was almost there. Arriving at the corner of Fifth and Congress Avenue, Richie glanced across the street and focused on a three-story redbrick building. He squinted in the glare of the streetlights. There didn’t seem to be much activity outside the building at the moment.
Richie needed to hurry up and find a good hiding place to take the shot—while still being able to get himself out of the area as fast as possible. Right next to him was a three-story building that housed the Mexic-Arte Museum. If he could get to the roof, he’d have a perfect angle across the street. Turning around, Richie walked down to the sidewalk and then cut into the alley directly behind the building. He spotted a fire escape attached to the building that zigzagged up to the very top.
Taking a peek up and down the alley, he didn’t see anyone that he thought mattered, so he grabbed the bottom rung of the metal ladder and hoisted himself up to the first landing. From there, he quickly climbed the stairs back and forth until he reached the top of the building. Swinging his legs over a short wall, Richie hustled across the flat roof and peered over the other side down onto Congress Avenue.
He smiled. Maybe fifty yards. No sweat.
It was the perfect spot to finally kill the boy.
THIRTY-SIX
David and Parker rode in the back of an Uber into downtown. Parker was understandably quiet. The boy’s whole life was about to get flipped upside down again. David hoped this time it was for the good—although he knew having to deal with the FBI, federal prosecutors, lawyers, courtrooms, and all that jazz, would not be so good. David had tried to explain to Parker as much as possible what he thought would happen once they arrived and met with Zegers and his team.
But the truth was, David didn’t really know.
The Uber driver drove down Fifth Street toward Congress Avenue. David’s office building was only four blocks away now.
“You okay?” David whispered to Parker.
The boy looked over to him. “I’m really nervous.”
“Me, too. But I’ll be there for every step of it.”
Parker nodded, stared back out the car window.
The Uber driver reached Congress, turned right. David immediately spotted Zegers and a small group of other FBI agents up ahead, huddled right outside the main doors of his office building. He could feel his gut twisting into knots. Parker was about to go through something no kid should ever have to endure—after having already had to bear so much. But there was no other way out of this.
The driver pulled the car over to the curb just up the street from Zegers. David got out first, and Parker followed. They stepped up onto the sidewalk together. Parker immediately reached over and grabbed David’s hand. Zegers noticed them and began swiftly moving in their direction, along with five other agents. David noted that Farley, Jeter, and Hernandez were part of the group. Within seconds, they were quickly surrounded by the full weight of the FBI. To his credit, Zegers knelt in front of Parker and tried to offer the boy a warm welcome.
“Parker, my name is Agent Zegers. I know this must be overwhelming to you, but I promise I’m going to take very good care of you. You don’t have to worry about anything. Okay?”
Parker nodded but squeezed David’s hand even harder.
Zegers stood again, looked at David. “Thanks for coming.”
“Like you said, let’s get this show on the road.”
“How about we go inside your office to go over everything?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
The group of them began moving up the sidewalk together toward the front doors of the building. The first shot came with a loud bang and hit Agent Hernandez in the back of his right shoulder. Blood squirted across David’s face. Hernandez let out a painful grunt and fell forward.
David heard the loud pop but at first thought maybe it was a car backfiring. Zegers spun around, his eyes flashing with panic. Agent Jeter immediately tackled Parker to the concrete and knocked David over to his right in the process. Another loud bang. The second shot hit Jeter square in the back. He flinched and grimaced in pain. Parker was directly beneath him. Had he also been shot?
David scrambled to get to Parker, who was pinned beneath the wounded agent. He could hear screams coming from bystanders on the sidewalks. He saw Zegers, Farley and the other two agents pull out their guns while scanning the area across the street and looking to fire back at the shooter. What the hell was happening?
A third loud bang rang out, and a chunk of the building exploded right next to David, sending shards of brick straight into his face. For a second, he couldn’t see anything. But he could hear the FBI agents firing their guns. David blinked several times, trying to get the particles out of his eyes so he could find his way. When he could finally see again, David went for Parker. He had to get the boy out of there. But Parker was no longer underneath Jeter, who was still lying on the concrete.
Panicked, David whipped his head left and right. Where was Parker?
More shots fired around him. David ducked low. Who was trying to take them out? Had someone been staking out his office? Waiting for David to come back? Or was it something else? He again thought about what Parker had said earlier regarding Richie Maylor showing up right after the FBI had nearly grabbed him today. Could someone on Zegers’s team have betrayed them?
David suddenly spotted the back of the boy sprinting up the sidewalk away from them. Then the boy took a sharp left and was gone.
“Parker!” David yelled as loud as he could.
THIRTY-SEVEN
David paced furiously around his office. His head was spinning, and his heart was pumping so fast, he thought it just might stop at any moment. Parker was gone. He couldn’t believe it. The boy had managed to slip out in the middle of the chaos and had made a run for it. David had tried to chase after him but quickly got tripped up in the growing sidewalk crowds and the incoming swarm of police cars and emergency vehicles. David felt a panic inside him bigger than anything he’d ever experienced. He squeezed his hands together to try to stop his fingers from shaking.
Zegers was in his office with him, also pacing but on his phone barking at someone. David went to the front window again. Police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks covered the entire block in front of his office building. David had never seen so many uniformed officers. They scrambled to keep the crowd in its proper place and protect the scene. David stared across the street at the taller buildings on the other side. The shooter had been either inside or on top of one of those buildings. He couldn’t be sure—it was all a nightmarish blur. Agents Hernandez and Jeter had both been hit. But fortunately, no one else—especially Parker.
David’s eyes shifted from outside to his own reflection in the window. He still had blood splatter
on his face. He took a sleeve and tried to wipe it off some more. But it just smeared. He needed to go wash his face in the restroom but didn’t want to leave Zegers for even a moment in case any word came back on locating Parker. This was a nightmare.
Zegers finally hung up, cursed.
David turned. “Are they going to be okay?”
He knew Zegers had been talking with someone about Hernandez and Jeter, who were on their way to the hospital.
Zegers sighed. “I don’t know. Hernandez might be okay. The bullet went through clean. They don’t know about Jeter yet. They say it’s bad.”
“What the hell happened?” David asked Zegers for probably the fifth time in the past few minutes. “You promised me Parker would be safe.”
Zegers just kept shaking his head. “I don’t know.”
“Could someone on your team have sold us out?”
Zegers shot him a glare. “Not a chance, David.”
“How the hell else can you explain it, Harry? I didn’t tell a single soul about our meeting. You were the only person I spoke with about it. But someone was clearly waiting for us to arrive out there.”
Zegers considered that, cursed again, spun away from the window.
Farley came rushing into the office to join them.
“Anything?” Zegers questioned.
“Shooter was directly across the street on top of that art museum building. He left the rifle there. But we’ve been unable to locate him. We’ve got agents out searching everywhere. Police are trying to help. But it’s an unbelievable mess out there.”
“Get more agents down here,” Zegers ordered. “Wake everyone the hell up. This is a damn emergency.”
“I already have a call in for it.”
“What about Parker?” David asked Farley.
Farley gave another sad shake of the head. “Sorry. No sign of him yet.”
David put a hand on the back of his tight neck and squeezed. Where had the kid gone? Was he out there hiding close by? Or still running? Could he be making his way back to Rebel somehow? David would go there first upon leaving the office. And what was going through Parker’s mind right now? The boy had been promised so much—and all of it had been ripped away from him in a hail of bullets.
The panic inside David continued to grow.
“Handle that rifle with care,” Zegers instructed. “Maybe it’ll lead us back to the shooter.”
“Will do,” Farley replied. “But it looks pretty clean. Any word on Hernandez or Jeter?”
“Hernandez is probably okay. Jeter is in really bad shape.”
Farley hung his head. “You want me to call Jeter’s wife?”
“No, I’ll do it.” Zegers gave a wary look at David, sighed, turned back to Farley. “Look, Farley, I want you to put our team under a microscope. The shooter may have been alerted from the inside to our situation with Parker. I want everyone who possibly knew about tonight scrutinized.”
Farley frowned. “Come on, boss. No way.”
“I want to be sure, Farley. So don’t play favorites. And make our circle even tighter until we figure this out.”
Farley nodded. “Okay, boss.”
Zegers turned to David. “I don’t want you talking to anyone other than me right now.”
“I’ll ask the same of you.”
Zegers nodded. He gave Farley a few more instructions, and then the agent turned and headed out of the office. Zegers again joined David at the window. David kept staring at his cell phone, hoping he might receive an incoming call from Parker—but it was weak hope. There was no way the kid was going to make that call now. David had tried to call the cell phone he’d given Parker several times, but it always went straight to voice mail. The phone was off—which meant David also couldn’t track the device with his Find My Phone app. If Parker turned on the phone, David would be able to know the boy’s exact location. So he kept checking the tracking feature every few minutes. So far, nothing. David had to come to grips with the fact that he might never see or hear from Parker again.
“I promised the kid he’d be safe,” David said, eyes on the scene below.
“So did I,” Zegers mentioned. “We both failed him.”
“He’ll never come back in now, Harry. Parker will never put his trust in either of us again. This was our one shot. And we blew it.”
“Then we’ll have no choice but to find him and take him by force.”
David glanced over at Zegers. The stern look in the agent’s eyes let David know he was dead serious. And although David understood the man’s line of thinking, it didn’t sit well. Until Zegers found his leak, David could not allow the FBI to get anywhere near Parker again. He’d tried that, and it miserably failed. The only chance David now had at helping Parker was to solve this case himself. David and Jess had to somehow put the pieces together in a way where the FBI would no longer need the boy’s testimony. If David could offer that to Parker, maybe he could still save him. But he kept these thoughts to himself. He didn’t feel like getting into it with Zegers right now.
“You going to be okay, man?” Zegers asked him.
David felt the tone of the question suggested it was coming more from a friend than an FBI agent. David had to admit, he’d kind of grown to like Zegers, in spite of their hostile beginning. While David questioned many of the man’s bulldog tactics, it was clear to him that Zegers was passionate about the job and wanted to do the right thing.
“I don’t know,” David said. “First, Jess nearly gets run down, and now this. The deeper I go with this case, the more people get hurt.”
Zegers perked up. “Wait. What happened to Jess?”
“A few hours ago, some guy in a Camaro tried to take her out on this same street.”
Zegers forehead tensed. “A Camaro?”
“Yeah. Barely missed her. But put a friend of mine in the hospital.”
“What color?” Zegers asked with a surprising sense of urgency.
“The car?”
“Yes, what color was the Camaro?”
“Yellow, I think.”
Zegers cursed. “Did the police arrest the driver?”
“No, he took off. A hit-and-run.”
“But you believe it’s connected to Parker?”
“Maybe. Jess seems sure of it. She thinks she recognized the driver from a bar where she was asking questions earlier.”
“What bar?”
“A place called the Burping Goat. Jess was there to talk with the owner. A guy named Dilly Dyson. We think he might have something to do with all of this.”
Zegers ran both hands through his air, then cursed again. Something had clearly rattled the man. Zegers face showed the type of panic David had never seen from the agent. Not even in the aftermath of what had just happened with the rooftop sniper.
“What’s going on, Harry?”
“My son was picked up today by someone driving a yellow Camaro.”
David’s mouth dropped open. “No way.”
Zegers suddenly bolted for the door. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
After leaving his office, David stopped by to see Rebel, but his friend had unfortunately not seen Parker since they’d left earlier. Then he drove north and found Jess waiting for him in the dark at a small neighborhood park. It was late, and there were no lights, so no one else was in the park. Spotting his approach, Jess immediately jumped from a swing, ran over to him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He’d called her on the drive over to give her the awful update on where things now stood with Parker.
“I’m so sorry, David. I just can’t believe it.”
David had to admit her embrace felt good. He was so vulnerable right now and desperately wanted someone to hold him. He pulled her in even closer, his arms snug around her waist. She didn’t resist. Their bodies eased into each other in a way where David felt like it could go somewhere else fast if he didn’t pull out of it soon. Maybe it was just the intense emotions of it all. Fo
r both of them. Each had just survived near-death experiences. He was an emotional train wreck right now and couldn’t trust any of his own feelings. And now was unfortunately not the time to explore what felt like a growing chemistry between the two of them.
He took a step back. “I failed him, Jess. I must’ve told him to trust me ten times leading up to what just happened.”
“You can’t blame yourself.” She tilted her head, touched his cheek. “Is this—”
“Blood,” he answered, realizing he still hadn’t cleaned his face.
“Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m okay. It’s not my blood. I was standing right next to one of the agents when he took a direct shot. That guy is going to be okay. But another agent might not make it. He threw his body in front of Parker and probably saved his life. Before the boy ran off.”
Jess’s shoulders sagged. “That’s so awful.”
“A complete catastrophe.”
“Did they get the shooter?”
“No, he’s still on the loose.”
“Do you think it could be Richie Maylor?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But Zegers thinks the same guy who tried to run you over may have taken his son this afternoon.”
Jess’s eyes widened. “What?”
“He said someone in a yellow Camaro picked up his son after school. He initially believed his boy was simply hanging with the wrong crowd. But now he thinks it could be connected to this case.”
“What a terrible thought. I hope he’s wrong.”
“Me, too. And to make matters even worse, Jess, I think someone on Zegers’s team is in on it. There’s no other way to explain what just happened. The shooter was planted on a rooftop waiting to ambush us.”
She bit her bottom lip. “So what do we do?”
“If we can solve this case ourselves, maybe I can still save Parker.”
Her eyebrows pinched. “Because he would no longer need to testify?”
“Right. But if we don’t solve it, there’s no telling what might happen to that kid. He’s never going to turn himself in voluntarily now.”