by DJ Steele
The light disappeared. She immediately hit Laquita’s number again and saw the light shine against the blades of grass. She raced over to the light.
It was Laquita’s phone.
She raised her pistol and swept the area. There was no sign of Laquita. She had to act fast and smart.
Her friend’s life was in danger.
Chapter Forty-Six
He needed a bit of luck right now.
Hopefully this wouldn't end up being like other cases he’d been on where he felt he was near to closing in on the target, only to find out the perp had outsmarted him.
Shockley eased his car down the street craning his neck to check both sides of the street. He needed to find the man he believed was the killer and Julia. Hopefully not together.
The street was quiet. His thumbs tapped hard against the steering wheel as he cruised past small yards and inviting homes. A few of the homes emitted a glow from a TV set through open curtains. People sitting inside the safety of their home unaware of what was happening in their own neighborhood.
He’d never been on this street before. There were cars parked nose to tail along the curb on both sides of the narrow road. Right now, he had no clear idea of where to search. There were too many places a perp could disappear and lurk in the shadows. Hell, for all he knew, the perp could be hiding behind a bush right now watching him drive by.
In a perfect world he’d lock down the area and issue a BOLO for the man he believed to be the killer. Yet without a description, all he had was the guy smoked and limped. Without any hard evidence it wouldn’t fly. This was like trying to fight a three-alarm fire with a squirt gun.
Most of the older two-story homes were attached. One of the homes was under construction. Looked like it was being gutted from the inside out. Transitional neighborhoods were what people liked to call it. In D.C. what that meant was there were nice homes mingled among dilapidated homes in desperate need of fixing up. Some of the homes had iron bars on the windows indicating that there was crime, even in this part of the city. Or at least used to be. Overall the street was deserted except for an occasional dog walker or runner.
His cell phone started chirping.
"I’m headed to check out the area to the west and north," said Hauser. "Several uniforms on foot are checking the south and east side around the crime scene area, and I’ve got a couple of guys trying to scrounge up witnesses around here."
"Is the crime scene locked down?"
"Barricades are up. Perimeter secure. Forensics is here and the crowd is slowly thinning out."
"Good. I’ve seen nothing suspicious. I’m gonna circle back around and check some of the alleyways I see on my GPS."
"10-4."
When Shockley rounded the corner onto the street which led toward the crime scene, he could see in the distance a host of cruisers, their red and blue lights whirling. This was a one-way street with a designated bike lane. Most of the neighborhood homes had their porch lights on, lighting up their yards and sidewalks. Even this far from the crime scene neighbors wanted to feel safe and a porch light was a good first line of defense.
There was an alleyway up ahead, a short distance on his left. He slowed to a stop and studied his GPS map which indicated the back alley snaked its way between and behind houses till it dumped onto a street at the far end of the park. It’d be a good escape route for the perp. He started to commit turning down the alley when he noticed a couple walking out of the corridor with a medium sized dog that at first glance resembled a German Shepherd.
He stepped out of the car with his badge in hand and carefully approached the couple. The dog sat down on a command from the woman.
"I’m Officer Mike Shockley. There’s been a shooting near the park, and I was wondering if you’ve seen anybody suspicious?"
The young woman answered, "We just came from there. Heard somebody was murdered inside a vehicle. Might be drug related. We’re headed back home."
Shockley pointed behind them. "Did you see anyone in the alley? Pass anyone?"
They looked at each other and shook their heads in unison. The woman spoke up, "No, we were the only ones."
"Is there a problem with drugs in this area?" Shockley asked.
"Not really a problem, but I have heard of drugs being sold in the park. And some of the people at the crime were saying they thought that’s what might have happened. A drug robbery."
"Did either of you see a man with a limp tonight?"
"No sir. Are we in danger?" The couple shared a concern look.
"I’d advise you head on home for now. I appreciate the information." He pulled out a card from his coat pocket and handed it to them. "Call if you notice any suspicious activity."
He had no need to check this alleyway. The couple said drugs were sold in the park. He wondered where in the city drugs weren’t sold. He’d arrested a preacher using his church as a front to make drug deals.
He climbed back in his car and continued up the street. There was another road, Kathryn Lane, on his right. His GPS showed this one intersected a street he had not driven down. And if he continued across the street to the next alley it would take him to the street Julia lived on. Maybe Julia had been at the crime scene? And if she had, he wanted to find out if she had any connection to the victim?
One possibility was Julia could have taken this short cut over to the park to meet the victim. And she might have taken it back to get home. Hopefully the perp didn’t follow her.
He turned into the lane, headlights breaking through the darkness. There were no oncoming vehicles which allowed him to continue down the narrow one-lane passage. In his peripheral he saw a porch door swing open. An elderly hunched woman with a plaid blanket draped over her shoulders and what resembled a fur trapper hat stepped out. She peered down the street toward the crime scene. He stopped, lowered his car window and yelled at the woman to get her attention.
"Ma’am." He shoved his badge out the window. "Officer Mike Shockley. Did you see anybody walk down this way tonight?"
She slowly turned and pulled the blanket tight against her chest. She stretched her neck forward struggling to see what he was holding. He thought he should get out when she cautiously ambled to the side of her porch. "You looking for that young policeman who knocked on my door?"
"Yes. Did he walk down this alleyway?"
She used one hand to push her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. Her thin, breathy voice said, "I told him to be careful."
"How long ago was that?"
"A little while ago."
"Did you see anybody else enter this alley tonight?"
She shook her head. "No. I haven’t seen anybody but him, and now you."
"Thank you, ma’am. You better get back inside. Keep your doors locked."
She nodded. "You be careful too," she warned.
He put his vehicle in gear and drove down the lane with his high beams illuminating the road ahead. He didn’t see any sign of the uniform. Maybe the officer had already walked the entire alleyway and had exited onto the street.
He had an uneasy feeling.
Something was off.
Chapter Forty-Seven
He blinked his eyes open and examined the dull sterile room. He felt an intense loss for his father. A feeling he thought was gone.
He had been in a room like this when he was thirteen. Only this time it was him lying in the hospital bed, not his father.
When he raised his hand to scratch his nose, the attached IV got caught on the bed railing. He remembered seeing his father attached to IV’s, heart monitors and oxygen. Just like he was now.
His father had been getting ready for work when he had a massive heart attack. Wagner was picked up from school by a neighbor and taken to the hospital. His mother met him in the waiting room and told him his father had quadruple by-pass surgery. He recalled the fear and guilt he had when he was allowed to see his father after surgery. The night before, he and his father had gotten into a heated argument ab
out something. Something he could no longer remember. There were lots of arguments with his parents during his teen years.
Closing his eyes, he tried to clear his mind and concentrate on his situation. Not on his health, but how he could get out of the mess he was in with Razor. If only Razor would die, he thought. All his problems would go away.
He’d have to figure out how to handle Megan. Did she really care for him? She called 9-1-1 and stayed with him at the hospital for hours until he finally ordered her to go home and get some rest.
He told himself she cared. He needed her to care. Right now, he had nobody.
"Alan, how are you doing?" A voice boomed from the door.
He was so deep in thought he didn’t hear Dan Quatterman come in. This was the last person on earth he wanted to see right now.
"Megan told me what happened? Are you okay?"
"Yeah Dan, I’m fine." A strange thought popped in his head—I’d be a lot better if you could arrange to kill somebody for me. The idea made him smirk.
"Good to see you smile. What are the doctors saying?"
"Looks like I’ll live. But they want to keep me here a couple of days for observation and run some more tests since I have a family history of heart disease."
"Thank goodness. I just couldn’t believe it when I heard what happened. A lot of people are very concerned about you. You made the news."
"Well, I hope it was good press."
"Megan made sure of that. She really takes care of you. Wish I had an assistant like her."
I bet you do.
A light rap on the door right before a doctor pushed it open. Dr. King was an older woman. She wore a white lab coat over green scrubs. There were wrinkles etched in her forehead and around her eyes. Late fifties maybe. He had no skill at gauging a person’s age. She wore her gray hair short above her ears. Her deep-set brown eyes serious but kind. A pair of reading glasses hung from a chain around her neck.
She addressed him first even though Quatterman moved in an attempt to introduce himself.
"How are you feeling Mr. Wagner?"
"Great. You going to release me now?"
Quatterman couldn’t stand being side-lined. Wedging himself between the hospital bed and the doctor, he shoved his meaty hand out. "Hello. I’m Congressman Dan Quatterman. Alan and I are close friends."
No, we’re not, Wagner wanted to say. Instead he gave a weak smile and fought the urge to roll his eyes.
She extended her hand and shook Quatterman’s hand. "Good to meet you. I’m Dr. Beth King, Speaker Wagner’s attending physician."
Then she slid her hands in her white coat pocket and turned her attention to him. "Mr. Wagner, due to HIPPA compliance I have to ask if you want me discuss your medical condition with Congressman Quatterman present in the room?"
This was as good as any excuse to get rid of the man. "Dan, do you mind giving the doctor and me a few minutes?"
"No problem. I understand. I have to get back to the office anyway." Quatterman turned to the doctor and said, "It was nice meeting you. Take good care of our Speaker of the House."
Dr. King nodded.
After Quatterman left, the doctor continued, "The good news is your electrocardiogram was normal. I do want to run a few more tests since you have a family history of heart disease. The not so good news is we did find that you're severely dehydrated and you have high blood pressure." She pointed to the IV. "We’re giving you fluids to rehydrate you. Your bloodwork reveals your blood sugar levels are higher than normal. This is probably a result of the dehydration. Therefore, I'd like to do more bloodwork after you've rehydrated. I think with some lifestyle changes, it’s possible to control your high blood pressure."
He appreciated the fact that Dr. King communicated the results of his health in a calm and knowledgeable manner.
"What kind of lifestyle changes are we talking about?" he asked.
"Exercise regularly, eat a healthy diet, reduce the sodium in your diet, cut back on caffeine, and reduce your stress. Do you have any questions for me?"
"Yes. Do you have any idea when I'll be discharged?"
"In the next day or two. Depends on what the other tests show. Right now, you need to rest. I’m sure a lot of what brought you to us is stress related."
She has no idea.
He shot a glance at a man he recognized standing guard outside his hospital room. The thick neck man in uniform was talking to a young nurse.
The doctor noticed his interest and said, "He says he’s your protection detail."
"That’s correct. He’s Capitol Police."
"Have you had threats on your life recently?"
"A third to half of my colleagues receive threats depending on what they’re working on."
"Sounds like a dangerous and stressful job keeping our government running."
"Unfortunately, it can be at times." And deadly, he added to himself.
"I have rounds to make. If you don’t have any other questions, I’ll see you again tomorrow."
"None at this time. Thanks Dr. King."
The doctor turned toward the door, just as Megan entered.
"Good to see you again, Dr. King."
"Nice to see you." The doctor disappeared down the hall.
"You look much better today," Megan said with a smile stretched across her face. In her hands was a vase of colorful flowers with a balloon attached.
Trying hard not to be obvious, he noted that Megan looked especially attractive in the slim gray slacks, a leather jacket with a deep purple shirt underneath.
"You didn’t need to get me flowers. I’ll be out of here in another day or two."
"It was no problem. Have they set your discharge date?"
"More or less."
After she placed the vase on the windowsill, she walked over to his bedside, and placed a hand on the bedrail.
"You gave me quite a scare, Alan."
"I feel bad I got angry with you yesterday. The stress of the job and the investigation is getting to me. I was afraid I might have jeopardized the FBI’s investigation by foolishly leaving that note on my desk. It’s important we tread very cautiously right now."
"I’m sure nobody saw it besides me. You don’t need to worry. I haven’t told a soul." Her tongue wet her full lips.
Was she trying to be seductive or was she nervous? He wished he could read her. There was something she wasn’t telling him. But, if she had told somebody about the note, like the authorities, he’d be handcuffed to his hospital bed.
Maybe he was over thinking this.
"Can I get you anything?"
He gestured toward the pitcher of water on the metal tray. "A drink of water would be nice. My throat’s very dry."
She filled the cup with the pitcher of water, his eyes catching her every move. He liked watching her.
When she handed him the Styrofoam cup, he made sure his hands touched her delicate fingers.
"Thank you." He took several sips and noticed her face had relaxed.
With his eyes boring into hers, he said, "I don’t have any family still living. You being here means a lot to me."
She searched his eyes, her brows furrowed. "I thought you had an uncle who recently had a heart attack."
He tilted the cup draining the liquid while his mind struggled to devise a cover up lie. The problem with lying is you have to remember the lie for the next time you lie.
"I do have an uncle, but he’s not a biological uncle. He was a very close family friend when I was growing up. As a little kid, my parents would call him Uncle Frank and it stuck. I was a teenager before I realized it was just a nickname. I care very much for him. It’s just not the same as having family."
"Oh. I understand. I have friends that I’m super close to."
She held his gaze and then looked away. "I guess I better get back to the office." She pulled the well fitted leather jacket snug across her chest as if she suddenly felt self-conscious. "I’m sure you need your rest. Call me if you need t
o talk. Or if there’s anything at the office I can help you with."
Need to talk? What did that mean?
"Thanks Megan. I feel good knowing you’re holding down the fort."
She turned and left.
He mumbled as he watched her walk down the hall, "Loose ends."
Chapter Forty-Eight
Shockley cruised down the narrow lane. If the uniformed officer had cut down this passageway, he should see him any minute now.
Sandwiched between the two-story buildings made him feel vulnerable. This cold-blooded killer was no amateur. He could be hiding behind a building, waiting for him to drive by. The element of surprise was an advantage.
Without his Glock in his hand, his reaction time would be slower. With a hand on the steering wheel, he used his other to unsnap his holster and withdraw his Glock. Fortunately, he wouldn’t be between the tall buildings for much longer.
He didn’t know the officer who was canvassing this area, but hoped he was a seasoned cop and not a rookie. A sense of dread ramped up his nerves. He didn’t want another cop not reporting to duty tomorrow weighing on his conscience.
Halfway down the lane, he saw a glow from a tall metal streetlight partially illuminating the entrance to an alley on his left. Maybe the uniform had gone into that area to check it out and that’s why he didn’t see him in the lane. He edged the car to the opening and stopped. Peering out the driver’s window, he didn’t see any movement. He did see a lot of places where the perp could be hiding.
He got out with his Glock in hand and quietly closed the car door. A rush of night air brushed against his face. He stooped low, keeping his weapon aimed straight ahead and ready. With his senses on high alert he crept deeper into the dark alley.
After rounding a building that looked like an oversized storage shed, the light from the streetlamp diminished. A smattering of household floodlights was on, but he couldn’t see shit in most of the surrounding area. He stepped back and removed his powerful Maglite from his jacket. With a hand on his weapon and the other on the Maglite, he swept the area from left to right. His light flickered on litter strewn across the ground. Car parts, a rusty bike, a washing machine and a pile of old tires had been dumped back here. All the back yards had wooden fences around them. He figured these homeowners didn’t want to have a view of a mini landfill.