“Two more weeks, babe,” he said, then kissed her on the cheek. “Then, we start our new lives.”
She nodded, believing every word that Devon said. The only problem was that every word of it was bullshit.
Brandt and Vincent followed up with the lead that Owen provided by rolling up to The Griff club around eleven twenty p.m., Vincent flashed his badge to the bouncer in black and circumvented the long line of young and eager patrons before heading directly inside without any issues.
“Ever been a fan of nightclubs?” he asked Brandt.
“No,” she said. “Never ever.”
“Yeah,” he said as they went through a hallway, parted a curtain, and laid eyes on a colorful display of overpriced booze, drugged out club heads, and synthesized music that made the walls shake as they emerged onto the dance floor. “Me either.”
The club was packed—shoulder to shoulder. Everyone was dancing and grinding, highlighted by pink and blue strobe lights.
Vincent had to shout for Brandt to hear him over the music. “Owen said this Alex guy would probably be in the VIP section.”
Brandt scanned the club. “What does he look like?”
“Five ten. Long hair. Manicured beard. Owen also said the guy has a tattoo of a butterfly on his right hand.”
“Charming.”
“Look, let’s split up. VIP section looks like those tables in the back.”
They took account of everyone in the back room—both spotting the same person matching the physical description that Owen had given them.
“Think that’s our boy,” Brandt said.
“Sweat him and I guess we’ll see,” Vincent said, as they both parted ways.
They weaved through the patrons at the bar and worked their way to the back of the club to a section with five tables sectioned off with velvet rope. In the center table, the biggest table was the man matching Alex’s description. He was in a black suit, all smiles, and confidence, with his arms around two very attractive women.
Vincent and Brandt converged on the table at the same time. Vincent said, “Follow my lead.”
As they approached, Alex whispered something in both of the ladies ears, so they got up and left as he leaned against the sofa, sort of as a welcome.
“Your name, Alex?” Vincent asked.
“No,” Alex said, looking away as if he saw someone he knew on the other side of the room.
“That’s interesting. You favor a guy named Alex. Friend told us about you.”
“Well, your friend was wrong.”
“You sure?” Brandt asked. “Because I think he’s your friend too. Goes by the name of Owen. Believe he works in that chop shop you have moonlighting as a salvage yard.”
Alex motioned his head toward the exit of the club. “Fuck off. I don’t talk to cops.”
“You will when you get home tonight because Miami PD’s got your chop shop on lockdown right now. I’m surprised your boy hasn’t rung you up to tell you about it.” Vincent snapped his fingers. “Oh, that’s right. It’s because he’s in custody for assaulting a cop.”
Alex said nothing.
Vincent moved closer and cozied up to Alex. “Listen here, slick,” he whispered in Alex’s ear. “I know all about you. I know all about your brother. You told that walking meat slab, Owen, to take anyone out who came around asking about your brother, and the guy was dumb enough to carry out that order with a cop.”
Alex gave a sideways glance at Vincent, clearly pissed.
“You messed up,” Vincent said. “You made a bad move telling him to do that because he dropped your name to us about ten times when I spoke to him a half-hour ago.”
“Then you know I don’t give out my last name,” Alex said, “so he could have been talking about anybody.”
“Cut the shit, Alex. I’ve got you. I’ve got the means to take you down right now for questioning if I want to. I’m just giving you the easy way out, a way of extending an olive branch so to speak.”
Alex still looked unimpressed. “I don’t have a problem with you. I don’t even know you.”
“No,” Vincent said. “But I know your brother. You know, the guy calling himself Devon Palmer. He killed a bunch of people. And I know you’re covering for him. I know you guys are smart enough to take a few precautions to cover your tracks. But all it takes is one slip-up, and that’s exactly what happened to you when Owen tried to break my neck. I very much have got a bone to pick with you, and I’m ready to either pick at it or punch my way to the truth. Don’t much matter to me. How ‘bout you?”
Alex looked at Vincent, eyes staring fire as the muscles in his jaw pulsated. “You can’t prove any of this.”
Vincent leaned in, almost nose to nose with the guy and not backing down as Brandt stood with one hand inching toward her Glock. “Then, why are you shaking?”
Alex looked around, his mouth open and tough-guy routine ditched as he tried to see a way out, but all he saw was the three bouncers and four Miami PD units that Vincent and Brandt had posted near the exits in advance.
He closed his eyes.
“You can walk out or you can be carried out bud,” Vincent said. “Your choice.”
Alex sighed. “Just let me pay my tab before I go. Yeah?”
“By all means, my friend.” Vincent patted Alex on the shoulder to salt the already exposed wound. “By all means.”
“I don’t know where he is,” Alex said. “He made it a point to not tell me where he’d be hiding out. Him or his girl.”
“Is her name Kelly?”
“He never told me her name; Calls me up out of the blue after disappearing to Illinois or something to follow a girl.”
“He said that? Exactly?”
“Yeah. He comes into town a few months ago and gives me a call. I tried meeting up with him. He wouldn’t let me. I knew he was in trouble.”
“Does your brother tend to get in a lot of trouble?”
“Big time. You stop asking questions after a certain point.”
Vincent shifted his weight. “Well, you aren’t exactly a model citizen either.”
“Look, man, what do you want from me?” Alex said, turning and facing Vincent. “What’s in this for me? I don’t know what my brother did. He just rolled into town, said he needed some cash cleaned, and we arranged to have it dropped off to him once a week as we were cleaning it. He never called me directly, never talked to me. I thought about tailing him a couple times, but we aren’t exactly tight.”
“What’s his real name?” Vincent asked. “All I got to do is run a check, but it’ll help you a lot more in the long run if you tell me now.”
Alex said nothing to that. He wasn’t going budge and crossed his arms over his chest.
“All right, then. Where did you make these drop-offs?” Vincent asked. “How can I get in touch with your brother?”
Alex thought for a moment. “I want to talk to my lawyer,” he finally said. “I want guarantees first.”
“Fair enough.” Vincent motioned to the bar. “Go pay your check.”
Alex stood up, Brandt following him as they escorted him to the bar to pay the bill before taking the long drive back to the Miami Police station.
19
Staying at a Motel 6 just off South Beach. Brandt fell onto her bed and let out an exasperated breath. “I can’t remember the last time I slept in my own bed. It has to have been months.”
Vincent closed the door to their room and tossed the keys on the other bed, checked his watch. “Alex’s attorney is talking to him back at the station. Lieutenant Mendoza should call within the next hour or so.”
Brandt sat up and perched on her elbows. “You think he’s going to play ball?”
Vincent shucked his jacket off his shoulders and moved toward his bed. “I do, yeah. He knows he’s boxed in. He was already worried that his brother, whoever he is, was in enough hot water. He also incriminated himself over cleaning money for him, too. Guy’s eyes were wide as saucers when he let that
tidbit slip.”
Brandt smirked. “I saw that. Yeah. How’s that going to affect our case, being that this guy has ties to our suspect?”
Vincent thought about the giant pile of paperwork lying in wait for him at the office once all this was done. “There’s gonna be a lot of crossover with Hollow Green, Clarendon, and Miami.”
Brandt closed her eyes. “Why couldn’t Kelly Moretti have just stayed in Illinois? Would’ve made the paperwork a whole lot easier.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Vincent said, lying on his back as he turned the ringer up on his phone.
Brandt turned on her side, looking at Vincent across the few feet that separated their beds. “I think you’re starting to rub off on me.”
Vincent turned to her. “How do you mean?”
Brandt removed the elastic tie binding her curly auburn hair, shook it out and then she ran her fingers through it. “Your methods. Your style. I’m starting to see why you act so gung-ho all the time. It helps yield better results, the more you tackle an issue head-on.”
“Doesn’t diminish the paperwork, though. Just adds to it, like I said.”
“But you enjoy paperwork.”
Vincent made a dismissive noise. “Don’t know where you got that from. No cop enjoys paperwork.”
“You do. I see you cracking a smile every time you fill out a report. You love going back over the details of the stuff you’ve done. Putting it in words on an official memorandum gets you, I don’t know, hyped.”
“No. That’s not it.”
Brandt looked at her partner and smiled, feeling comfortable, like kids at a slumber party. “You’re not a fiend for the action?”
“Quite the opposite. I don’t relish the action. It’s just attracted to me.”
“Then why do you smile so much when you write about it in your reports?”
Vincent thought that over. “You know why? It’s because every time I recap what happened in a case, every time I go back over the near-death experiences, or the close calls, or the missteps that almost got me killed, I smile because I know that I’m going to make it out okay by the time I’m finished. When I write my reports, when I go back over something I’ve done, it’s like I’m writing a novel. I know what the end of the story is. I know I’m going to make it out all right, so being able to have that kind of, I don’t know, control makes me always a little less stressed.”
“Do you have a hard time trying to find someone to stick with you through all of this?”
Vincent laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a loser in love?”
Brandt rolled her eyes. “No. You know I’m not trying to say that.”
“You asking for a date, then?”
Brandt shot up. “That is completely untrue.”
“Sorry,” Vincent said, somewhat sheepish. “Just seemed like you were.”
“You know I wasn’t.”
“You’re right. I hear you.”
Brandt shot him a look. “I’m not sure you do.”
Vincent turned his head. “You seem adamant about pressing the issue, detective.”
Brandt swung her feet over the bed, now facing him. “I just don’t appreciate you insinuating that I was flirting with you.”
“I wasn’t. But you seem to think so. And the fact that you’re smiling makes it all the more transparent.”
Brandt drew her lips into a forced and neutral expression with slivers of a smile peeking out from the corners.
Vincent noticed.
“Maybe you’re just offended,” he said, “because the thought never popped up in your mind before. And maybe, just maybe, you might even…enjoy that thought.”
Vincent waited in anticipation; his heart fluttered as he felt himself tread new territory with a partner he had come to know well.
What am I doing?
Brandt stood up. “Maybe,” she said, “this is you projecting all of your inner monologues onto me.”
“You trying to say that I just profiled myself?”
“Indeed, detective. Indeed.”
Vincent’s cell phone rang. He picked it up before the first ring ended.
Saved by the bell.
Both of them thought.
“Detective Vincent,” Vincent answered.
“It’s Lieutenant Mendoza. Your guy is ready to talk. He has the name of his brother and the location for where they do the money drop-offs. He’s agreed to help set up a meet to deliver this girl you’re looking for. Says the location is in Little Havana. You get the girl and you get the brother.”
Vincent motioned for Brandt as he slipped on his jacket and grabbed the keys. “We’re on our way. I’ll contact my superiors back in Hollow Green and Clarendon to arrange everything else.”
He hung up, and they headed out the door, Brandt behind the wheel, with her hair tied up again, as they drove in silence back to the Clarendon Police station.
20
The next day, Kelly approached the café feeling a surreal amount of fear, her hands and lips were trembling from the feeling that she’s had for the past few days, it’s been haunting her, that something was terribly wrong.
I’m scared.
I don’t want to be here anymore.
She had left the motel around the corner about ten minutes prior, milking every step she took and every second that passed on her way to the café.
“My brother is delivering us the next payout,” Devon had said to her. “You have a meetup scheduled in twenty minutes.”
“That’s so soon,” Kelly said, her tiny frame hunched over from a feeling of queasiness and nerves.
“I’m not going to argue with it,” Devon said, grabbing Kelly’s bag and sunglasses. “It just means we’re closer to getting the hell out of here.”
Kelly placed her hand on Devon’s shoulders, hoping that she could slow things down with a simple act of affection. “Can it wait?” she said. “I thought we could…I don’t know, maybe make breakfast and hang out for a little while?”
Devon rolled his eyes. “We’re not on vacation yet, babe. Put your head on straight. Come on.”
Kelly hung her head. “You’re right,” she said. “You’re always right.”
Devon winked and kissed her on the cheek. “I know, baby. Now get going. We’re just two more deliveries away from that permanent vacation on the beach.”
Kelly was out the door in ten minutes, unable to control her shaking or the feeling that something, everything, was completely out of whack.
She approached the same table she always sat at, ordered her cup of coffee, sat down, and tried her best to control her breathing.
“It’s going to be okay,” Kelly whispered to herself after the waiter disappeared. “We’re almost done. It’s almost over. Devon knows what he’s doing.”
The last words she spoke put Kelly completely on edge.
She didn’t believe Devon any longer.
Another minute passed before someone approached Kelly from behind, casting a shadow that enveloped her tiny body and cast on the wall in front of her eyes.
She turned to see someone she had seen some months before; same blazer similar shirt and his overall demeanor, in every possible way, it was the same damn cop.
Kelly froze with fear as the man sat across from her. “Hey, Kelly,” he said. “It’s nice to see you again.”
She opened her mouth, but no words were released.
“Just sit still, Kelly,” the man said. “I’m going to talk to you for a minute.”
Seconds passed. It felt like an hour to Kelly.
“I know you,” she said.
“Detective Vincent. You remember. And I’ve been looking for you and your boyfriend for a good while now.”
Kelly tensed to shoot up out of her chair.
“Kelly,” Vincent said, holding up his hand. “Just stay right where you are. Okay?”
She complied.
“Look over your shoulder,” Vincent said, “to that red car about twenty meters down th
e road.”
Kelly slowly looked over shoulder to the red car and the female detective in the driver’s seat.
“She’s not alone,” Vincent added. “There are two uniformed officers from Miami PD waiting around the corner as backup.”
Kelly’s shaking was getting out of control. Her teeth chattered like a cold wind had blown through and chilled her bones and tears began to well up in her eyes. “I…” she began. “Please…”
Vincent leaned forward. “Just listen to me,” he said. “I’m here to help you. I know what’s going on. I know about your boyfriend, about the money. I’m not sure how you guys pulled it off, but we found you nonetheless. I need you to understand that you can’t run any longer, that all of this hiding is now done with. There’s only one source of salvation in this situation. Me.”
Kelly looked around in a panic.
Her tears began to flow more freely.
“I don’t want to do this,” she said, nearly collapsing in her seat. “I just want to go home.”
Vincent reached out and rested his hand on top of hers. “We can do that. I can take you home. I just need you to come with me. Okay?”
“I want to go home,” Kelly repeated, eyes closing and fluttering like she was losing consciousness. “I just want to go home…”
Vincent stood up, wrapped his arm around Kelly, and helped her to her feet. “Then come with me,” he said. “We’ll make all of this right.”
Kelly buried her head in Vincent’s chest and wept as he looked down the street at Brandt and gave her the thumbs-up. Brandt returned the thumbs-up and pulled out her cell phone.
“We got her,” she said to the officers waiting around the corner. “Inform Lieutenant Mendoza that we’re in route.”
“Copy that,” one of the uniforms replied.
As Brandt hung up and watched Vincent escorting Kelly toward the car, she spotted something in her peripheral vision—a kind of black streak, hidden in the alleyway about ten feet away and to the left of where Vincent and Kelly were walking. Once Brandt made out the streak completely, and what it was, one hand reached toward the door, and the other reached toward her Glock.
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