Night Moves

by DJ Steele

  The FBI’s presence made her paranoid. Would they get suspicious when they didn’t notice movement in her home? She set light timers to come on and off at irregular intervals throughout the house, giving the FBI the impression they were still in the house and moving from room to room. She instructed Laquita to turn the TV on in the living room.

  She picked up the burner phone and a mag light then pocketed them in her coat. Hurriedly, she powered down the laptop and stuffed it in her backpack just in case the FBI figured out what was going on and broke into her home. She knew that was an irrational thought since the security cameras would catch them breaking in. Unless it was the FBI who had installed the security in the first place.

  She strapped on her backpack and made sure her pistol was in her purse. It was there and it was loaded.

  Earlier the Bridge Club said they would take Laquita and her to a safe house where they could work the case with their assistance. She refused the offer and told them she would hand over the photos only if they worked with her from her home. Staying in her home gave her leverage if the Club decided to leave her out of the loop. The FBI was just down the street and she knew the Club wouldn’t want her to involve them.

  Slowly she headed to the kitchen door when Laquita beckoned, "You comin?"

  "Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute."

  Julia had lived by herself a long time. It was difficult having another person staying in her home. They were able to get Laquita more clothes from her apartment a couple of days ago. Laquita’s apartment was an efficiency located in a sketchy part of town. There was no television or dining table. A beige couch full of vibrant cushions, a bed with a bohemian flair and a wall covered in framed photographs of happy memories. It was modest and tastefully decorated.

  In the kitchen, she tugged the straps tight on her backpack and said, "Laquita, I’ve been thinking…."

  Laquita quickly cut in, "I shoulda gone with ya to the Warehouse. I ain’t makin’ that mistake again. I’m goin’."

  "Would you just hear me out? All I’ve got to do is walk to the park and give Lester these photos. In exchange he’s agreed to give us info on the car parked at the motel."

  Laquita shook her head. "Nope. I’m goin’. Sides, we’re partners."

  Julia knew it was pointless to keep arguing. "Suit yourself. You have the flashlight I gave you?"

  "I got everythin’ ya told me to git." She pointed. "TV’s on like ya said. Now, we gotta go or we gonna be late."

  Julia set the alarm system and they scurried out the back door through her backyard to the side of the house. They crossed 17th Street SE and onto Kathryn Lane, which was nothing more than an alley that connected 17th Street SE and 15th Street SE. "Don’t switch on your flashlight unless we absolutely need it," warned Julia. "We don’t want neighbors seeing lights outside their homes, getting scared and calling the cops."

  The light of day quickly drained away this time of year. Dark cloudless skies sparkled with an endless parade of stars. The high relative humidity made it feel colder than the actual temperature.

  A light crisp wind nipped at her face as they walked down Kathryn Lane. Julia pulled her coat collar up and tilted her head upward to view a sliver of the moon, which looked like a sharp sickle glowing in the sky. In her present state of mind, the tiny crescent moon reminded her of the sickle on the flag of the old USSR.

  Laquita was dressed in jeans and an over-sized pink sweatshirt. A wide multi-colored headband pulled over her ears. She saw short wisps of Laquita’s breath and thought she heard her roommate’s teeth chatter. She kept an eye on the surroundings and listened for footsteps behind them. She didn’t hear any.

  Kathryn Lane appeared deserted. She tensed walking down the unlit lane. At the midpoint of the lane she saw a streetlight shining on 16th Street. Her pace increased.

  Stopping under the streetlight, they both scanned 16th Street in search of anything that might send up a red flag. The quiet street was lined with cars parked along the curb. She figured most people were home from work and in for the night.

  This street, like the one she lived on, didn’t have a lot of traffic. That was one of the reasons she picked this area. The neighborhood was a mix of Millennials with children, seniors and people wanting to escape the hustle and bustle of city life. It wasn’t the country, but less hectic and safer than most parts of D.C.

  She and Laquita kept pace side by side without any exchange of words as they crossed 16th Street and continued down the lane. Tall historic homes on both sides of the lane enveloped them in darkness. A short distance in front of them was the yellow-orange glow from another streetlight. Together they picked up their pace, anxious to get to the streetlight.

  They were almost there when they saw a silhouette at the other end of the lane moving in their direction. Perhaps if there were other people around it wouldn’t have been unsettling to her. Julia kept walking. Laquita stopped.

  "It’s okay," Julia said in a low cautious voice. "I see a dog on a leash. He’s just out walking his dog."

  "That ain’t no dawg. Looks more like a bear," scoffed Laquita. "Sides, I hate dawgs."

  As the man with the large dog got closer, Julia hesitated. They had cleared the homes and a tall fence was on one side of them. The streetlight revealed a perpendicular alley on the other side. Maybe they should cut through that alley, she thought and make their way to the street.

  Just keep moving she said to herself. She hoped Laquita couldn’t see her face. It would have given away her real thoughts.

  The man wore a short jacket, was almost as wide as he was tall and wore a baseball cap. The dog seemed to be walking him instead of the other way around.

  Unexpectedly the dog barked. The sound echoed down the lane.

  Julia yanked on Laquita’s arm, pulled her to the right and hustled into the alley toward the houses that lined the street parallel to the lane. She could hear hard rapid breaths coming from Laquita.

  "Shit," whispered Julia. "Dead end." All the homes had backyard fences preventing them from cutting between them to gain access to D street. They’d have to go back to the lane and continue to D street.

  When they turned to head back, Laquita accidentally knocked over a metal garbage can. The loud clanking noise alerted a neighbor who turned on a floodlight.

  "Hurry up," Julia said to Laquita. "We’re behind schedule."

  Back in the lane, underneath the streetlight, she eased the loaded pistol from her purse and shoved it in her outside coat pocket.

  "Damn," piped Laquita. "You didn’ tell me you were packin’."

  "Just in case."

  "Gurl, you are Elke’s granddaughter," snickered Laquita.

  Mark Miller was the man who taught her how to use a pistol. Elke had him do it as a favor to her. She secretly had a crush on Mark. Unfortunately, she was a teenager and he was much older and married.

  "Just stay close, okay?"

  Before Laquita could respond, the night air filled with the sound of wailing sirens.

  "Oh crap," Laquita said. "Somebody called the cops on us."

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Shockley was frustrated that he was no closer to solving the case than when it happened.

  In the hospital lot, he parked, took a swig of coffee and started to get out when he caught sight of four men wearing FBI windbreakers. They were exiting through the large sliding glass door entrance. He swiftly shut the car door and studied the men.

  Only one looked familiar to him. The man with white hair and glasses appeared pissed. It was Special Agent Sid Black.

  He waited till the Fed’s black Suburban pulled out of the lot before he made his way into the hospital. The FBI must have left instructions for hospital staff to contact them as soon as T-Bone and Amber Bull were able to talk.

  T-Bone’s room was on the third floor. When he opened the door, T-Bone was asleep in the dim lit room, metal bed rails pulled up. The pungent smell of antiseptics filled his nostrils as he stepped inside. T-Bone’s head
was still bandaged, but alot of the swelling on his face had gone down and the cervical collar had been removed. An IV bag hung from a metal stand with a drip line hooked to his arm. Once again, the sound and smells made his mind relive the times visiting his cancer-stricken dying mother.

  There were several Get Well flower arrangements and one with balloons attached to it filling the windowsill. His boots clunked on the concrete floor as he made his way around the hospital bed over to the windowsill. He glanced at his friend making sure he was still asleep before he plucked a card out of a plastic pick. It read, Get Well Soon, Love Claudette & Eric.

  A strong voice hissed, "You doing detective work or just being a nosy bastard?"

  Shockley pivoted on his heels and saw T-Bone grinning.

  "Hey, big man. Thought you were asleep." He quickly reattached the card in the plastic pick.

  "Had to be for the Feds. They got mad when I pretended to be drugged." T-Bone grunted.

  "One of them called Special Agent Black?"

  "Sounds bout right, Cowboy. I think he’s the one who got in my face and told me I better cooperate, or he’d have my badge. A real prick."

  "That’s him."

  "Are you and the ex on the mends?" Shockley nodded toward the flowers. "Claudette, right?"

  "Yeah. I’m sure she did it for my kid’s benefit. Eric’s a good boy. But there’s no love lost between me and the ex. She fooled around with a guy at work and then to top it off took me to the cleaners in the divorce."

  Shockley dragged a chair over to the hospital bed and sat down. "You said come ASAP. Got something to tell me?"

  "I do. First, I wanna know if the FBI lied about you being pulled off the case and now they have taken over the investigation."

  "That’s not a lie."

  "What did Wheels have to say?"

  "Not much. It wasn’t his call. Agent Black said it had to do with National Security."

  T-Bone’s eyes closed, his face grimaced as his large chest heaved inward. He let out a weak, low moan before continuing, "We lost a good officer in that explosion. I knew Manny Hernandez for over eleven years. After my divorce I spent holidays at his home with his wife and four kids. A good officer died for only one reason. He wasn’t standing where I was that day."

  "Don’t beat yourself up T-Bone. You almost died too."

  "Yeah, but I didn’t. I want the son-of-a-bitch to pay for doing this to Manny and Bull."

  "The Feds will get him. Even if we aren’t on the case." Shockley felt his words trail off. He had to be careful what he said.

  "Agent Black said something about national security to me too. I just murmured and pretended I couldn’t stay awake. I figured he was blowing smoke up my ass to get me to tell him what I saw that day. Never trusted the Feds."

  "Honestly, I don’t know what this is all about, but there’s this girl who has a detective agency. She was there that day."

  "Whatya mean she was there? What girl?"

  "Her name’s Julia Bagal. Appears she was hired to do surveillance on a man who was supposedly cheating on his wife. The man was meeting his lover at Willow Oaks Motel."

  "I don’t get it. If the FBI have the photos and an eyewitness to the crime, why harass me?"

  Shockley let out a long drawn out sigh, crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. "I don’t know. I don’t think they have the photos she took."

  "Could be they already ID'd the perp and want him to lead them to a bigger catch," added T-Bone.

  "I thought of that. I’ve been trying to sort this out and the more I learn the less sense any of it makes."

  "There’s something that doesn’t add up about this case," said T-Bone.

  "Like what?"

  "I saw the two bodies in the motel room. One vic was a male, tattoos and definitely a gang banger. The woman was in the wrong place."

  "What makes you think that?"

  "She was dressed conservative. Navy pinstriped slacks and matching blazer."

  "Not a hooker then, maybe someone looking to score some drugs?"

  T-Bone looked up at the ceiling and appeared uncomfortable. "You know what my first thought was when I saw that young woman lying on the motel floor?"

  "What?"

  T-Bone looked back at him and said, "A reporter doing a piece on drugs in our city. A reporter trying to expose the problems nobody wants to believe are as bad as we know them to be."

  Shockley leaned forward in the chair, rested his elbows on his knees and clenched his hands together. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

  Now it was more than a hunch that Chance Martin Stephens III and the murdered woman at the motel were connected. Hauser had found out that Stephens had driven from Nashville to check on his missing girlfriend who was a freelance reporter. It looked like T-Bone had unwittingly ID’d the woman.

  Shockley contemplated his next move. He had mixed feelings about involving T-Bone in what was proving to be as Hauser called it a shit storm. T-Bone had already given him all the intel he had.

  "Odd place to meet," said Shockley.

  "Maybe a kidnapping," argued T-Bone. "Maybe that’s why the Feds are involved. If this is a national security issue, then the Feds would want all hands on deck including using local resources. They’re holding out on us."

  "Probably right about that. The issue is Agent Black has made it clear they aren’t gonna play ball."

  "At the present time, I might be stuck in this bed, but my mind still works like a cop. My instincts tell me you’re holding out on me too. I have a right to know what’s going on," said T-Bone.

  Shockley sat straight up. The man lying in the bed was a good friend and a damn good officer. There was no way in hell he’d jeopardize T-Bone’s career.

  "Agent Black will be back."

  "So what?"

  "If you know what I’ve got and don’t tell them, then you could lose your job and worse, prison time," Shockley’s voice was strained.

  "I figured as much. You don’t need to protect me. I’m a big boy."

  "It’s more than your job at stake."

  "Hauser’s in on this? I shoulda known. T-Bone grunted. "And this national security bullshit. You believe that?"

  "It doesn’t matter what I believe. I just want to get to the truth. Whatever that is."

  T-Bone used the remote to raise his bed. The movement caused him to wince. "This girl. Julia Bagal. Are you sweet on her?"

  The question came out of nowhere and caught him off guard. He shifted his eyes from T-Bone’s face to the covers on the bed. "Sweet on her? Nobody says that anymore." He felt his neck grow warm and his jaw tighten.

  "Us old farts do. You don’t need to answer me. I see it on your face."

  "I don’t even know her and she’s stubborn as a mule."

  "A quality you like in your women." T-Bone snorted a laugh.

  Shockley raised an eyebrow, shook his head and grinned.

  "Take care of yourself big guy," he said, rising to his feet. "I’ll check on you later."

  He ambled to the door.

  T-Bone yelled, his voice hoarse, "Hey Cowboy."

  Shockley stopped and faced his friend.

  "You catch that son-of-a-bitch."

  After identifying himself, Shockley inquired at the nurse’s station which room Bull was in. She was still in ICU in a medically induced coma. When he asked about her prognosis, the nurse said it was guarded.

  Her name tag said Trudy. She offered to walk him down to Bull’s room. While he shortened his stride to match hers, he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to see.

  When the door to the ICU room was pushed open, he attempted to hide his surprise. Bull rarely talked about her personal life. What he knew about her came from other officers. Sitting next to her bed with a book in his hand was a guy with long auburn hair tucked behind his large ears. He didn’t appear to be a lot older than himself. His first impression would have been this was Bull’s son, but he knew she didn’t have children.
He’d heard she’d married a younger man. Cradle-robber was what one officer called her but warned Shockley not to ever joke about it in front of Bull.

  The man’s light gray eyes were magnified by the thick lenses in his black framed glasses. It was obvious he hadn’t slept in days.

  Nurse Trudy quickly handed out introductions. "Carl, this is Detective Shockley."

  The man stood, revealing he was much taller than Shockley first thought. Maybe 6’4" with rolled up sleeves that revealed several tattoos. Not a guy he pictured Bull would marry. The man shot his hand out and gave him an overly strong handshake. "I’m Amber’s husband. Good to meet you."

  "Likewise, Carl."

  "Amber told me a great deal about you. She has a lot of respect for you."

  Shockley found himself staring at Bull. Her head bandaged, a tube in her mouth hooked up to a ventilator, several monitors and a bag hung on an IV pole were at the head of the bed. There were multiple electrodes taped to her chest and several monitors around her bed. He felt his eyes moisten.

  "You should talk to her," Carl said.

  Surprised, Shockley responded, "What?"

  "I know it’s hard to see her like this Detective, but studies have found that even though she can’t respond, you should act as if she can understand you."

  "Alright. What should I say?"

  "Tell her who you are and that you hope she gets better. Knowing Amber, tell her that she’s had enough time goofing off. You need her back on the case."

  Shockley snorted. Carl was alright, he thought.

  He moved to the side of the bed and leaned close, his mouth next to her ear. His voice low and his words only for Bull. If she really could hear him, she was going to kick his ass when she got well.

  Walking down the hall toward the hospital exit, Shockley got annoyed. First, no matter which way he turned he couldn’t get enough cell signal to call Hauser and find out what he had learned about Bambi. Second, seeing his friends in the hospital drained him emotionally. Third, he had to admit T-Bone hit a nerve when he implied Shockley was sweet on a woman he didn’t know. Yeah, Julia Bagal was cute behind her bruises and she had a nice body. However, she was a pain in his backside, but he did want to protect her. That was what he did for a living. Protect the public.