by Matt Lincoln
He looked at me, wanting me to accept his word. And I had no reason not to.
“Alright, then. But I’m holding you to that, got it?” However, I was still going to keep an eye on them, no matter what. He was my friend, after all.
By the time Cecily came back with a cup of appetizers and snacks for her and LaShawn, Verity had returned and was looking much better.
She pulled me away for a minute or two. “Sorry for the minuscule breakdown there. I think I’m just letting everything overwhelm me tonight. And I needed to remember that it’s not all about me or my world, you know?”
I smiled at her and leaned in to kiss her gently. It was returned, and I felt her arms go around me. I didn’t resist.
Once we surfaced, I tried to help. “It’s a lot to take in. A new city, new job, new devilishly attractive romantic possibilities…” I kissed the top of her head and smiled at her. It was nice to have this small moment with her, even in the crowded room with a lot of strangers.
“Thank you, Jake.” Verity pulled me tightly to her and squeezed. Then she let go a little and stared up at me, her bright eyes looking more like they should, with less worry. “I’m going to make a few rounds, meet a few more people with Weir and the others. Are you going to be okay for a while by yourself?”
“Sure. Go, do your thing. I’m going to hang out and ponder some of this.” I motioned to the vast collection surrounding us. “Good luck.” And then she left.
I actually enjoyed the rest of the evening, hanging out with LaShawn and Cecily and learning a little about the Miami art scene. Eventually, I broke off on my own, taking in all the art at my own pace.
LaShawn came up to me at about 11:30 and gave me a bro-hug. “Cecily and I are going to bug out now, Jake. We feel a little bad about crashing your date with Verity, and we both want to grab a bite before we call it a night. So, we’re just going to grab a cab, and I’ll see you tomorrow or something.” He was grinning as Cecily made her way over to us.
She shook my hand appreciatively. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Header. And please tell Verity that it was nice to meet her. I would, but I haven’t been able to find her in this gathering.”
“Not a problem, don’t think anything of it. You two enjoy the rest of your night.” I smiled and nodded to LaShawn. They walked off hand in hand, looking very invested in one another.
I watched them go, and then maybe ten minutes later, Verity found me. I felt her wrap her arms around my waist from the back and lay her head against my back. “Hey, I’m just about schmoozed out. Are you interested in taking some time just for the two of us?”
I reached around and brought her to face me while we were still holding each other. “I’ve been patiently waiting for this part all night. And as a bonus, LaShawn and Cecily have already left, so what do you have in mind?” I kissed her neck and throat as she pressed into me.
“Well, I really, really want to see your condo, Jake. And I may or may not have packed a little overnight bag and left it in the trunk of the BMW.” She was about as sly as a bullhorn right about now. I didn’t mind that at all.
“That’s very responsible of you, Miss Yout.” We started to pull each other toward the doors and the parking lot. “I like the way you plan ahead.” I didn’t know how quickly I could get us back to the condo, but I do remember it being a record of a drive.
12
Jake
I woke up the next morning to my cell going off somewhere in the room. I shook myself awake and tried to remember where my pants might be. Verity and I had been rather anxious about getting back to my place, and there may or may not have been clothes strung throughout the hallway and living room.
I listened closer to the ringtone, trying to locate it. After a little searching, I found it in the hall, inside one of my shoes. Now I remembered, and I smiled at that memory. I checked down at the screen to see that it was LaShawn calling me, so I answered.
“Hey, sorry, I misplaced my phone. What’s going on?” I rubbed my eyes and headed straight for the coffee pot in the kitchen, without my pants. I was still pretty sure they were somewhere here in the condo. I’d seek them out later on. As he was talking, I set it all up to go while I planned to grab a shower after this call.
“Hey,” he replied, getting right down to business. “So, I thought that maybe we could go around and ask the locals around Edler if they’d seen either that girl or guy from the pictures you sent. Stores, shelters, that kind of thing. We can check out the area, and maybe we’ll get lucky with an ID. We have the girl’s name, but not the guy’s, and asking might be our best shot with that.” He sounded hopeful, and it was as good of an idea as any I would produce at this point. After the shower and coffee, though, watch out. I might even surprise myself with a strategy.
“That’s a good plan. Um, give me, like, an hour tops, and I’ll head over.” Then I realized that my vehicle wasn’t there. It was at George’s place. But I should still have his BMW. If I could only find the keys…
“Sure, no problem. I’ll see you then.” LaShawn hung up, and that left me to figure out what to do next. It was way too early for so many decisions. I started to inspect the condo for any signs of the BMW keys, and that’s when I noticed that Verity’s clothes and shoes were already gone. I went and checked in the bathroom where I found a small handwritten note from her.
Sorry! Weir called in an early morning meeting, and I had to run. I didn’t want to wake you up, so I was extra quiet. I hope it worked!
At the bottom of the note, there was a smiley face heart thing and the letter V.
That would probably explain the keys being gone. Luckily, I still had the ones to the Mercedes in my tux pockets.
I took a nice, long shower, pulled on a pair of jeans and a white tee-shirt, grabbed my Ruger and a thermos of coffee, and headed out the door. After a cab ride to George’s place, I had my own wheels back. That was a relief with all that I needed to accomplish today. I thought about dropping in to say hello, but Verity was probably still at her early meeting, and I wasn’t too anxious for small talk with George this morning.
I headed directly to LaShawn’s, parked the vehicle, and went inside the complex. I met him in the stairwell as he was coming down and I was going up. He looked ready to go, and if I hadn't known better, I’d have thought that we had coordinated outfits. He, too, had dressed in a pair of jeans and a white tee, only his had an Edler Center logo on it.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he teased. I noticed that he had a red plastic folder in his hand, and I nodded at it questioningly. “Yeah, I got a bunch of copies of their pictures, just in case we get to leave them on a board or something.” LaShawn showed off his handiwork, with his number and the community center’s number as pull-off tabs on the bottom of some photos.
“Good thinking. If they are still around the neighborhood, then maybe someone will reach out. Maybe even them.” I wanted to remain hopeful and optimistic about finding a few witnesses that could positively ID the trio from the other images. I knew that LaShawn was, too.
“Well, that’s not been my experience, but there’s always a first time.” LaShawn saw that I wasn’t taking his meaning, so he explained. “Runaways rarely ever turn themselves in. So, finding the girl is going to be a matter of finding someone already on the streets that knows her and knows where she hangs.”
He continued, and we walked back down the stairwell and out of the building. “The guy looks a bit older to me, but unless something new has happened, he’s not a street kid.” He opened the folder and pointed out a few things. “Look at the shoes. Those are still in great shape. If he were a runaway, he’d already have had those stolen off of him or traded them for something else.” I had to take his word for it. His whole job was figuring people out.
“And then there’s the hair,” he continued. “There’s product in there. So, this guy has a home and a little disposable income. Street kids wouldn’t worry about that if you catch my drift.” LaShawn closed the folder and tucked it
back under his arm as we reached my vehicle.
“I get it. So then, he could be anywhere?” I didn’t like the way that sounded. That left too much for just the two of us to cover. “But if he’s local, somebody might know him, right? That’s your plan for tracking him down?” We got into my Mercedes, and I started it up. Once I pulled out of the lot, LaShawn began to give me direction on where we needed to start.
“It is.” LaShawn gestured to the streets he wanted me to follow, so he could continue with the rest of the conversation. “I’m also hoping that Colby might be close by. I’d like for us to talk to him together. Now, especially as some time has passed. He might be remembering more now.”
That made sense to me. “We know his name. Can’t we locate where he lives like regular people?” I joked to him. “Not everything has to be a clandestine, covert op, LaShawn.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know. But I already tried that. There’s no current address, and if he has a cell, it's unlisted. I’ve been asking other street performers if they know of him, but either they don’t have any clue, or they’re covering for him until this blows over.”
I glanced over at him for a second. “You mean the overdoses and the murders? That’s not likely to blow over anytime soon. I turned on the local news on the way over here, and there have been a few more bodies found around here last night.” Even the radio news was starting to pick up the idea that more was going on besides a few extra ODs.
LaShawn shook his head and looked out the passenger side window as I drove on. “I don’t know, man. The Community Center wants to get involved, but there’s a division on just what to do. Everyone has an idea but--” LaShawn stopped talking abruptly. He was staring at something we’d just driven past. Then he cried out, “Stop the car. Stop the car!”
I slowed down, but I couldn’t stop in the middle of the road as he requested. I looked back to where he’d been gazing, but I couldn’t see anything. “Hold on, let me…” I signaled to pull over or park when LaShawn opened the door and bolted out of the Mercedes. “LaShawn! What are you---” But he was already running back from where we’d come.
Cussing to myself and trying to find a place to get out of traffic, I reached over and pulled the passenger door shut amidst honking horns. I turned off the street hastily and found a parking spot as quickly as I could. I slammed the vehicle into park, turned it off, grabbed the keys, and took off around the corner and down the sidewalk after LaShawn.
The sidewalks were only just now getting busy, so I could still see his running frame ahead of me. I checked for my Ruger at my waist and continued running at full speed. I was dodging and weaving in-between shoppers and people just trying to do their jobs or get to work. That’s when I heard the gunshot.
People started screaming and running away from where I was headed. A few people had fallen or tripped in their rush to get away from the gunfire. I had to jump and hurdle over a few to keep from stepping on someone. I saw LaShawn buckle at the waist and fall to one knee as a tall guy with black hair was aiming a gun at him. My brain took an instant to recognize him from the photos as the trio’s Indian muscle guy.
I plowed forward, ignoring the people running past with terror in their eyes. The closer I got to them, the clearer it became that this guy was going to shoot LaShawn in the head and kill him if I didn’t act fast. If I fired my Ruger, there’d be no turning back. I’d probably be arrested. Sure, the MPD would have this POS for questioning just for starters, but I couldn’t help anyone from behind bars or with a criminal record in Miami.
So, I yelled out to get his attention on me. That worked as he raised his pistol and aimed at me instead. The shot fired a moment before I dove at his legs and knocked the crap out of him by hyper-extending his knees and taking him to the sidewalk.
We rolled and tumbled a couple of times before I was able to get my bearings back. I bashed on him, punching at anything that would cause damage and take the fight out of him. His gun wasn’t in his hand anymore, but I didn’t know where it had disappeared to. I couldn’t stop to think about that right in this instant, though.
He swerved up from the ground and punched me right in the face. I groaned and fell backward to my right, but I used that to my advantage. I rolled and got to my feet, which put me right in the perfect position to kick him in the skull. My foot connected with his jaw, and the guy went down.
I did a quick check at my waist and found the Ruger still where it needed to be. Then I scanned the area and saw a little punk going for the muscle’s abandoned pistol.
“Hey!” I practically screamed at the kid. “Don’t you dare touch that!” I rushed over and stepped on the barrel as the punk was fleetingly distracted by someone paying attention to him and what he was trying to pull off.
As I looked around, I saw several people on their phones, hopefully calling for an ambulance and the police. A few idiots were filming us and the scene. I picked up the gun with the hem of my shirt and wrapped it over and in, keeping my fingerprints off it.
I sped over to check on LaShawn, who was holding his side with both hands. There was a little blood, but the pressure he was applying seemed to be working for now. I knelt down and looked him over. He had enough wherewithal to give me a grin and joke about his condition and the situation. “That could have gone very badly.”
“Yeah, good thing you let me know what was happening and what to expect when you took off down the street, you moron.” I shook my head at him, but I was just relieved that he was conscious and aware, not to mention still alive.
“Takes one to know one.” He scoffed and then winced in pain. He motioned with his head back at the muscle that was still out. “I bet he was scouting. Looking for their next victims. How much do you want to bet?”
“I won’t take that bet. I don’t like losing.” I placed my attention on his injury and what I could do about it. “Hey, let me take a look at that.” I gestured to his wound. I could at least see what the damage might be and apply some basic first aid.
But LaShawn waved me off. “Nope, not here.” He paused, looked up, and back over his shoulder. “Besides, I can hear the sirens. The EMTs will be a lot better at keeping me off death’s door than you’d be.” He tried to laugh but stopped after the first chuckle or two. He was in pain, but it couldn’t have been too bad, not with him still being an ass.
“Have it your way.” I stood up to get a view of when the ambulance would make it around the corner to where we were. The Police arrived first but only just by about five minutes. A few of the more concerned people stayed around to give their eyewitness testimony, but most just drifted off and back into their routines for the day.
I gave my statement to Officer Wylen and gave him all the details that I could. The gun got processed, and the trio’s muscle was hauled off as well. I stayed around until LaShawn was safely carted away in the ambulance, and I was assured that he’d be okay. The bullet missed a lot of the more serious areas, but he was going to need a hospital stay and more, like prolonged bed rest and maybe some physical therapy.
Once the okay was given for me to leave, I headed back to my car to find everything still there, even though I’d forgotten to lock it. It took a minute to process everything that had just gone down, so I gave myself a minute or two to just sit and figure things out. There were no clear answers for what my next move should be. Time was what was needed to sort this all out on my own.
That’s when my cell went off, and I looked to see who was calling me now. The number wasn’t recognized, so it went to voicemail. And while I was fishing my keys out of my pocket, that’s when they fell and dropped to the floorboard of the vehicle. I leaned over to pick them up and saw another phone just lying there, caught between the console and the seat.
I reached down and tried to pull it out with some difficulty. That led me to feel another phone and a small, padded canvas square, like a wallet. That’s when I recalled just what they were and why they were there. Moving around to grab both pho
nes and three wallets from under my own seat was a bit more tricky than I thought it would be. Once they were all in my hands, there came the feeling that I was kind of foolish for not having remembered them before now. They had all been taken them off the guys who had attacked me in the alley, some days ago now.
The phones were dead, but the wallets could give me enough to work on until they charged. I swore at myself all the way back to the condo. I wasn’t used to working so alone. Usually, if I’d forgotten something, I had three other minds to remind me, but not at present. I realized that this had gone on long enough. I was calling my team back home to Miami.
13
Jake
Once I got back to my condo, I headed for the junk drawer near the front door. That’s where I kept pens, pads of paper, spare batteries, and those sorts of things. I also knew that Xavier had tossed in a bunch of old, outdated, and excess phone chargers just in case.
I dug through and pulled out maybe half a dozen, then I gathered them up and took everything over to the kitchen counter. I dumped the two phones and the changers and started at it. Finding the right ones took a bit, but I did it. I plugged them both into the sockets and made sure that they were both getting power. That set, I headed over to the dining table and sat down for the next task.
I took out the first wallet from my assailants. It was a black, worn-out leather item. I opened it and found less than a treasure trove of information. This guy did have two separate IDs, though, one as Julio Marquez and the other as Thomas Armstrong. The photo told me that he was the one with the knife from that night.
Inside, there was a twenty-dollar bill with a phone number printed on it. I had no way of knowing if he’d done that because it was important to him or if it was just a quick note pad from a previous owner of the twenty. I’d save that mystery for later.