Racing Through Darkness

by G. K. Parks

  “Sir?”

  “It’s okay. I’ve seen photos. The place was a bloodbath. It looked like shooting fish in a barrel. Lucky for you, you weren’t a fish today.” He stood and shut the shades. “Parker,” his tone was hushed, “Thompson received a tip last night about one of the kidnappers being held captive.” I shut my eyes, not sure what to say. There was no escaping what happened. Maybe I wouldn’t look so bad in jumpsuit orange. “Like I said, you’re rattled. So I don’t need you discussing any of this right now. Also, stay clear of that part of the investigation. And stay away from the guy.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you okay to stay here awhile longer? We’re compiling information now. If I need anything clarified, I’ll let you know.” He jerked his chin toward the door, and I left.

  Sitting at O’Connell’s desk, I did as I was told. Typing my statement with one hand took time, but I listed all the facts I knew to be true and explained the kidnapping and ransom. Starting a new document, I listed all the facts and theories on Rosa Estes, Estobar Santino, and the nearly thwarted recovery of Adalina. This aspect was a huge mess, and I wasn’t surprised when Keener, Barr, the Estes family, and Santino were dragged into the precinct. Santino looked comparable to Adam. Soon, lawyers were throwing fits and threats were made to contact consulates and embassies.

  The phone at O’Connell’s desk rang, and I was summoned downstairs to assist. Arriving downstairs, where they were cataloging evidence, I provided the crime scene techs an insider’s view as they worked on bullet trajectories and flagging the proper casings with the proper weaponry. The markups on the photos and computer models resembled an overzealous child who discovered the joys of permanent markers. While down there, Agent Palmer arrived. He took one look at me and grinned.

  “And you thought you fucked up.” He chuckled.

  “No thanks to you,” I retorted.

  He was here to take my statement in order to close the FBI file on the situation since it was technically a kidnapping. Almost two hours later, there was a write-up of all the details, not even minor points went unnoticed. At least government bureaucracy didn’t fail to instill upon him the necessity of dotting I’s and crossing T’s. After my vast knowledge was siphoned from my brain, I went upstairs with the hope of going home.

  Thompson was at his desk with a poker face, and I wasn’t sure if he was pissed about rescuing Adam or if he was pleased. Finishing his report, he shoved it inside a folder. “That tip you called in, I don’t know how you heard about it, but we got the guy. He’s a total nutjob though. Must have heard some cops talking about our consultant because he kept claiming police brutality against some chick who called herself Parker.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thompson,” I let out an unsteady breath, “should I call a lawyer?”

  “Why?” he asked, the smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Hell, it turns out the guy seemed to have the timetable for his injuries down to the day, and it wasn’t you. There’s no way it could be you. Seems you’ve been alibied out without even having to provide an alibi.” My heart skipped a beat at the words. We were all in enough trouble over this. There was no reason anyone else should stick their neck out. This was on me. “Word of advice, don’t brag about it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Not me. The O’Connells and Martin.” He jerked his chin at Moretti’s office. Jen and Martin were both inside. My guess, Bud must be guarding Nick at the hospital.

  “Like I said, if you change your mind, I can probably get the security feed from my house, complete with timestamp,” Martin said, shaking hands with Moretti.

  “That won’t be necessary.” Moretti smiled at me, and Martin turned.

  “Hey,” he grinned, and Moretti went back into his office to speak to Jen. Without giving heed to where I was, I launched myself into Martin’s arms and kissed him in the middle of the precinct like a mindless idiot. “Are you feeling okay?” he asked as I hugged him.

  “Now I am,” I mumbled into his neck. It had been a long night.

  “I was on my way to work, but,” he looked uncertain, “I can move some things around.” Releasing my grip, I shook my head, but Thompson caught my eye and jerked his head toward the door. Someone needed to tell me what was going on.

  “Can I have five minutes?”

  “Of course.” Martin followed me out of the precinct and into the back of his waiting town car. After exchanging the briefest of pleasantries with his driver, he put up the privacy window. “Nick called. I don’t need to know what happened. All I know is that after he collapsed in your apartment, you took him to the hospital, and when you left the hospital, you came straight to my place. And you didn’t leave until the next morning. Apparently, at that point, you went back to the hospital and had breakfast with Jen.”

  “I don’t want you lying for me. Moretti won’t look into it, but what if someone else does? This isn’t your responsibility. They could arrest you.”

  “Whatever you did, you had your reasons. I’m not here to pass judgment. Hell, you don’t have to say another word. But I’m not sitting idly by when there’s a chance I can get you out of trouble for once.”

  Trying to come up with something to say, I had nothing. I was speechless. Looking down, I noted my injured hand. At least now I had a legitimate reason for a few broken knuckles, and one that wasn’t quite so suspicious.

  “Tonight, I agreed to go over some numbers with Francesca, but,” he brushed his thumb across my cheek, “maybe you’d like some company instead.”

  “Nothing would make me happier, but no. This will be resolved soon. Hopefully, I can go home, get some sleep, and help close the files tonight.” Before either of us could say anything else, Heathcliff knocked on the tinted window.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting a quickie, but if you could tear yourself away for a moment, we have some pressing matters still in play,” he said as Martin rolled the window down.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I insisted, getting out of the car.

  “You better,” he glanced behind me to make sure Heathcliff was gone, “especially after the way you kissed me earlier.” Smiling, I leaned into the car and kissed him again. “Now you’re just compounding the problem. I’ll call you,” he promised as the window rolled up, and the car pulled away.

  “Did you tell him?” Heathcliff asked as soon as I stepped foot inside.

  “Tell who what?”

  He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “That the girl he’s dating is bulletproof.”

  “And that’s why you aren’t in a relationship,” I responded as we went upstairs to major crimes. “What was so urgent that you had to drag me back inside?”

  “We just need you to sign off on a few things and verify some of the statements Julian Mercer made.” He tossed a confused look in my direction. “Not everything he said makes sense.”

  “It’s a complex situation.”

  “Right. Let’s try to simplify it.” That was the story of my life, wasn’t it?

  Forty-one

  As I waited for Mercer to be brought into interrogation, Jen reappeared with a first-aid kit. She bandaged my hand and made a show of asking how it happened. Maybe she was as paranoid as the rest of us, or Nick gave her explicit instructions on selling the story. After everything, it was nice to know, despite our disagreements, we still had one another’s back. After tightening the bandage and insisting I show up later for an x-ray or else she would send Bud to fetch me, she left so we could get back to work.

  After buying a cola from the vending machine, Thompson popped the top and handed it to me as the two of us stood inside the observation room. Heathcliff was reexamining Julian Mercer’s story, and there were enough holes to make it look like a mouse devoured almost the entire block of Swiss cheese. The only accurate aspect of the story was our hunt across town to locate Adalina.

  “He hasn’t said a word about Adam Dowery a.k.a Autumn,” Thompson whispered in my ear. There was no surveillance equipme
nt in the room, but skittish came with the situation. “When they brought him in, I suggested it’d be in everyone’s best interest if he kept it quiet.”

  “Mercer doesn’t listen.” I stared at him through the glass. He wasn’t nervous. He was just Julian. “But he won’t say anything to incriminate himself or his team.” Hopefully, after our partnership inside the hangar, that included me. “Frankly, there’s no reason for you to hold him.”

  “We’re not. He can go anytime he wants. We haven’t brought charges against him. He was doing his job. It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “How many bodies were pulled out of the hangar?”

  Thompson glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “Seven dead. Three are in custody.”

  “Ten guys.” The words rang hollow in my ears, and I still wondered who they were and whose side they were on. If they were the hit squad Estes hired to eliminate the kidnappers, then why did they open fire on us? Mercer knew who they were. He also knew he was free to go, but I couldn’t figure out why he was staying. “And no one here wants to put the blame on someone for the body count?”

  “DA’s office flipped their shit. Three girls were abducted from an affluent private school. One of them was a cop’s niece. The PR department put such a bullshit spin on it that we had to deny the kidnapping claims in the first place, and to add the cherry on top, Miguel Estes isn’t even a fucking citizen. So, no. We aren’t looking for an arrest or conviction.”

  Rubbing my forehead, my head ached from the recount of this circus. “Seven bodies.” I swallowed. There was no way to determine if I was responsible for any of them, so my psyche was willing to deny my involvement for now. “Three hostiles, either hired guns or kidnappers, are in custody, and you’re questioning a group of K&R specialists.” I snorted. “Was there even a crime committed at this point?”

  “Look, you’re here to elaborate on the situation concerning whoever was responsible for Adalina’s kidnapping. The Cales are satisfied that Catherine’s back, and Nick’s assured them that the guilty party has been dealt with in one way or another. The Casanovs are completely removed from the picture, so we just need to figure out the Estes’ angle.”

  “This is such crap,” I muttered under my breath. “And the FBI isn’t investigating?”

  “They are. You spoke to Agent Palmer, right?” Making a face, he continued, “But we’re not working together. We just need to close this on our end.”

  “In that case, I’m on the wrong side of the glass.” I sighed. “Put me in there with Mercer and we’ll come up with something feasible.”

  Thompson didn’t look happy, but we left the observation room to start the entire process over inside interrogation. Everything said was on the record and highly censored. Twenty minutes later, an outline of Mercer’s involvement was laid out. My own impact on the case was interjected whenever absolutely necessary, but there was nothing solid or new. All the suspicions we had about Rosa, Miguel, and Estobar were wholly unsubstantiated.

  “I’m leaving,” Mercer announced, standing. He checked his watch. “When will my property be returned from your holding facility?”

  “We have more questions,” Heathcliff insisted. My guess was Thompson didn’t tell his partner the truth about Adam.

  “Then I’d like to hear the charges.” Mercer put his jacket on. “If not, my property?”

  “It has to be processed. We’ll call you,” Thompson offered.

  “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you later, Parker.” He left without another word.

  I was sure Bastian, Hans, and Donovan left as soon as they could. It was Mercer’s show, and he was the spokesman. At least I knew he’d take the heat for his men. Maybe there were a few redemptive qualities to the ex-SAS bastard.

  “Y’know what,” I glanced at the two detectives who seemed as far from their comfort zone as they could be while still within the confines of the precinct, “I can’t do this right now. I’ve been up all night getting shot at and,” I made sure the recording was shut off, “shooting. My hand hurts. And there’s more caffeine circulating through my body than blood. So someone is taking me home or picking up my car, which is at Mercer’s, and after I wind down and get some sleep, we will whatever.” I gestured to the notepad on the table.

  “Okay. I’ll take you home, and Heathcliff will deliver your car,” Thompson offered. We went back into the squad room, I gave my keys to Heathcliff, who might take the opportunity to speak to Julian and his pals in a less formal setting, and Thompson grabbed the keys to his car.

  We didn’t speak during the drive. Instead, I shut my eyes and felt the tension leave my body. The girls were safe. There were still so many unanswered questions, all a jumble inside my brain, but right now, it was simply a swirl of nonsense. The hangar left me physically and mentally exhausted, and I earned the right to sleep.

  Thompson waited for Heathcliff to arrive, and after the keys were dropped off, they left with the promise I’d call them later tonight or tomorrow. Only after they were gone did I realize they worked all night too. We all deserved some R & R, even if it was only for the next few hours.

  I took a shower, microwaved a bowl of soup, and tried some meditation techniques to clear my mind. As usual, the deep breathing exercises did nothing except remind me what it felt like to have fractured ribs and not be able to breathe deeply. Refusing to think, I brought my pillow and blanket into the living room, turned on the TV, and fell asleep in front of some family-friendly programming.

  The phone rang, and I glanced at the clock. The television was airing a paid-advertisement, and it was dark out. “What are you wearing?” Martin asked as soon as I answered.

  “A string bikini.”

  He laughed. “I just finished going over the numbers with Francesca. She was wondering when you can assist.”

  “Soon,” I sighed. “Tell her a couple of days.” It was too late to consider going to the precinct, especially when I was committed to going to bed and sleeping for the rest of the night.

  “I will.” The silence filled the void as I turned off the TV and took my pillow into the bedroom. “What are you doing?”

  “Going to bed,” I mumbled, nestling into the covers.

  “Tease.”

  “Not a joke. Not even close.” I shut my eyes. “I owe you an explanation and a thank you but not tonight.”

  “Good night, Alexis.” Hanging up, I instantly fell asleep only to wake four hours later with nothing better to do than work on the Estes case.

  Most of the world was asleep at three a.m. This meant there was plenty of time to think without interruption or distraction. As always, being a consultant meant hard evidence wasn’t a requirement. Sure, it helped to demonstrate whatever conclusion I reached, but it wasn’t a necessity.

  Diagramming the kidnapping and everything else that had to be true, I finally had the twenty-twenty hindsight necessary to see the situation for what it was. Mostly for what it was. The few strands of knowledge I lacked, Mercer possessed.

  Not bothering to consider the time, I dialed his number. When he answered, neither of us seemed particularly surprised. “Mr. Estes apologized for the intrusion. He was relieved to get his daughter back from the clutches of his conniving, soon-to-be-ex-wife,” Mercer volunteered.

  “Tell me what you know.”

  “My clients expect the utmost level of confidentiality,” he replied, reminding me that speaking to him was like slamming my head into the wall, “but I don’t enjoy taking friendly fire or having my work reassessed by a secondary team.” The anger mostly reserved for me bled over onto Miguel. Pity. “With the exception of the three men who dubbed themselves the Seasons, the rest of the men in that hangar bay were hired by Estes. They should have practiced a higher level of discrimination before firing on us.”

  “Is Adalina okay?” I asked. If Senor Estes was as ruthless as it sounded, returning her might not have been in anyone’s best interest.

  “She is unharmed.” There was hesitation in his v
oice. “This job may not be completed yet.” There was a pregnant pause, but I didn’t offer to fill the void. “Bastian will deliver documents later. Do with them as you see fit.”

  “Mercer?”

  “I’ll be in touch. Right now, I have arrangements to make.” The line went dead. He needed to work on being more helpful and transparent. All this cryptic crap was infuriating.

  By the time the rest of the world was awake and preparing for their day, I had a skeletal outline of the kidnapping based solely on my gut instincts and a few hints that the ex-SAS dropped along the way. My phone rang, and I grabbed it, hoping it’d be Bastian.

  “I know it’s early,” Martin said, already in apology mode, “but if you’re home, I’d like to drop by with breakfast before I go to work.” Without knowing what else to say, I agreed. Sometimes, the sweetness factor bordered on making the cynic in me physically ill, but it could also melt the hopeless romantic to a blubbering pile of goop, thereby making the cynic even more nauseated.

  Glancing over the outline, I feared what Mercer’s next move was. My personal inclination was the abduction had been orchestrated by Rosa. Either Estobar assisted in the scheme because he was her lover or because he was Adalina’s biological father. My stomach twisted at the thought of a mother putting her seven year old child through the horrors of such a situation for weeks on end, unless she told Adalina what would happen ahead of time. Did Adalina say anything about it to Catherine?

  Mid-dial, there was a knock on my door. Opening it, Bastian surprised me, coming inside with a sealed envelope. I hung up the phone and met his eyes.

  “Hi ya, love.” He smiled and placed the envelope in the center of my counter.

  “What is it?” Eyeing the parcel, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  “Confidential information. It could make the case for your copper mates. Jules said it’s up to you to decide.”