by Mark Stone
“Maybe the cops are thinking that what you know won’t stand up in a court of law,” Davey responded.
“I don’t give a damn about a court of law. I’m talking about getting this kid back. You remember being over in the Middle East, Davey. You remember the missions. You know what all of our commanding officers always said. Time is of the essence. It’s everything.” I shook my head and gritted my teeth. “We don’t have a lot of time. If George has Jack, and I’d bet at least half of that damn seventy million that he does, then he’s probably going to make a play to leave here.”
“Leave?” Davey asked, as though the idea had never occurred to him.
“Well, he’s not going to stay,” I replied. “I’ve seen it on the news a thousand times. I’m sure you have, too. Some pissed off parent who doesn’t have custody of his kid snatches him up and disappears. That’s what he’s going to do, and I’m not going to have it. I have to make sure Alexis knows to tell the police what happened earlier. It’s the only way we’ll get enough eyes in the right direction to make this right.” I took a deep breath. “After I’m satisfied of that, we can go home.”
Davey stared at me for a long moment. “Fine,” he muttered. “But you’re ordering me a pizza tonight for this. Wait. No, you’re rich now. What’s the rich person equivalent of pizza?”
I just stared at him wordlessly.
“A Porsche,” he finally answered. “You’re getting me a Porsche for this.”
“Is that all?” I asked, my eyebrows darting upward.
“For now,” Davey said, motioning to the door of the house. “Guess you’d better get a move on.”
Turning from my friend, I marched into the house. What had once been a peaceful, empty place now looked every bit the crime scene. Officers swarmed around, talking among themselves and going on about their work. There, in the center, sitting on one of the lush couches that I had admired (if deemed useless) just a few minutes ago, sat Alexis. Her head was in her hands and she was, as Davey said, surrounded by police officers.
“What are you doing in here?” a familiar voice sounded. Turning, I saw Mia. In sharp contrast to how she looked earlier, the woman’s hair was pulled back into a bun, she wore slacks and a cream-colored Jacket, and there was a badge pinned to her chest.
“You’re a cop?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“A detective,” she answered. “You seem surprised.”
“I’ve been surprised a couple of times today,” I answered. “At least this is a good one.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Mia said. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m checking on Alexis,” I answered. “And I’m trying to make sure that she tells those cops about what happened earlier so they know to go after George as a suspect. I told it to some punk ass cop earlier, but he didn’t seem to care too much.”
“Oh, I’m sure he cared,” Mia said. “You’re just barking up the wrong tree with that one.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“See that guy?” Mia asked, covertly pointing to an older man standing right in front of Mia. “That’s Abe Jenkins. He’s the sheriff here.”
“Good,” I muttered. “I can talk to him.”
“He’s also Jack’s grandfather,” Mia said.
“Alexis’s dad is the sheriff?” I asked. “I thought she said—”
“He’s not Alexis’s dad,” Mia said.
“But if he’s Jack’s grandfather, then . . . oh, God,” I said.
“That’s right,” Mia answered. “The person you’re about to finger for kidnapping is the sheriff's son.”
Chapter 7
“No way!” Davey said, his eyes wide as I told him about the sheriff’s connection to George. “That’s probably not a good thing, John.”
“It’s definitely not a good thing,” I answered. “It means this isn’t over for us.”
“What?” Davey asked, his face dropping. “You said you were going to go in there and tell Alexis, or whatever her name is, about everything and then we were going to duck out.”
“Can’t exactly do that now, can I?” I asked, my jaw setting like quick drying cement. “I’ve got to—”
“What are you doing?’ Mia’s voice chimed in from behind me. Turning, I saw her walking toward me. She strutted with the same intense walk she had back in the bar. It made more sense to me now, though, knowing that she was a cop. She probably had enough on her plate at any given moment to ensure that all her movements had to be purposeful.
“I’m leaving,” I answered, motioning to Davey. “Go to the car. I’ll meet you there.”
“Are you about to fight with this hot cop lady?” Davey asked.
“Probably,” I answered.
“Then I’m not going anywhere,” he muttered, a smile starting across his face.
“You want the Porsche or not?” I asked.
“See you in the car, bud,” he said, patted me on the shoulder, and turned to walk back to where we were parked.
“You’re troubling me, Lucky,” Mia said, settling in front of me and eyeing me up and down. Back at the bar, I might have thought she was staring at me like that for more personal, i.e. fun, reasons, but I knew better at this particular moment.
“I'm going home. I don’t see any reason that should trouble you,” I answered. “Unless, of course, there’s a law against getting some sleep in this town.” I shook my head. “Lord knows, I’m starting to think there might be.”
“If I thought for a minute that you were actually going home, I certainly wouldn’t bother, but something tells me that you’re not that type of guy,” Mia said.
“And how would you know what type of guy I am, seeing as how you’ve known me for all of fifteen combined minutes?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and staring at the woman.
“Call it detective’s intuition,” Mia said. “It’s my job to be able to size up guys like you with a look. Besides, they were a pretty informative fifteen minutes.”
“They usually are when I’m involved,” I responded.
“I’m beginning to see that,” Mia answered. “Lucky John. That’s what the paper called you, right?”
“I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t really care for that nickname,” I said.
“Your name isn’t the point,” she answered. “The point is that trouble seems to be following you, Lucky. It found you in Iowa, and it’s trailing you all the way down here.”
“A couple of things,” I answered matter-of-factly. “You’re the one who brought up the ‘name’ thing, not me. Secondly, it was Illinois, not Iowa. I don’t know why that’s such a sticking point for people. And lastly—the most important part—this trouble predates me. I’m going to guess this trouble stems from a spoiled, anger-obsessed son of a sheriff.” I leaned in closer to her. “Unless, of course, you’re going to tell me otherwise.”
“George isn’t the kind of man who would do this sort of thing,” Mia said.
“Oh, come on! I’m disappointed in you,” I shot back. “Is that your detective’s intuition again? If so, you might need to have it checked.” I shook my head. “Or is it being scared to death of losing your job if you make this accusation against your boss’s son?”
“Oh, screw you,” Mia answered. “This is from my growing up with him. This is from my actually being from here and knowing the people and the places involved in this crime for more than a handful of hours.” She took a deep breath. “I know George. This isn’t the sort of thing I see him capable of.”
“But he is capable of hitting a woman,” I reminded her.
“He and Alexis bring out the worst in each other. They always have,” Mia said. “That’s why they should have never gotten together in the first place. It’s why they should have never stayed together long enough to bring that beautiful boy into the world.”
“But he is in the world,” I answered, “and he’s what’s important right now.”
“He’
s my godson, you Jackass!” Mia said. “Don’t preach to me about how important he is. His first word was my damn name!”
“Then why aren’t you helping me?”
“Because you shouldn’t be involved in this,” Mia said. “You’ve been here a day, one day, and already, you’re at the center of all this nonsense.”
“That’s not my fault!”
“It’s also not your responsibility,” Mia said. “I’m wearing a badge. You’re not.”
“Then start acting like it,” I answered. “Look, I think under the right circumstances, fighting you might actually be fun, but I don’t have time for that right now.”
“Because you’re going to stick your nose into this investigation,” Mia said.
“If, by that, you mean I’m going to go and bring that little boy back to where he belongs, then you’re damn right, I am,” I answered.
“I could have you arrested for Obstruction of Justice just for saying that,” Mia answered, but her voice had softened a little.
“I’m sure you could,” I said. “Hell, you could probably have me arrested for a whole host of things, but you’re not going to.”
“Is that right?” Mia asked, her eyebrows arching.
“It sure is,” I said. “Because there’s a part of you that believes I might be right. There’s a part of you that thinks you might be looking at this situation too closely and that I might be on to something when I tell you George is responsible for this, regardless of whether or not you grew up with him.”
“That’s not what I—”
“I’m going,” I said, “and you’re going to let me. Now, you can either let me waste ten precious minutes stopping to ask someone what the sheriff's son’s address is, or you can tell me and save Jack from that many minutes of being scared and alone.”
Mia looked at me for a long moment before responding. “I’m not giving you his address,” she said flatly.
“Again, I’m so disappointed in you.”
“I’m not giving it to you because I’m taking you there,” she said. She motioned to a black car sitting in the driveway. “Come on. I’m driving.”
Chapter 8
Mia’s car, a sleek black thing that seemed way too nice to be government provided, zipped through the streets of Bonita Springs with all the intensity of her steps. The woman walked with purpose, and it turned out that she drove the same way.
Now, this didn’t bother me, mind you. To the contrary. I had always been something of a speed demon myself. The needle on my car almost never dipped below the 70 MPH mark. So, I felt right at home darting through the Florida roads at a rate that would have almost certainly gotten me arrested if I weren’t riding shotgun with a cop.
“You’ve got a heavy foot,” I mused, looking over at the woman and noticing the way her hands wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel that her fingers had gone white. As much as Mia might have tried to keep me out of this, she was obviously very invested.
“I’ve got a lot of things when I need them,” Mia said. After a second of silence, she looked over at me for just a moment. “You’re wrong, you know,” she said. “I’m not doing this because I think you might be right. I’m doing it because I know you’re wrong.”
“Whatever you say,” I said, shaking my head. I didn’t believe her. I had very little doubt that George was responsible for this. Not only that, but he had convinced someone to help him do it. I had a pretty rad mark on my neck from a severe Taser burn to prove it. Still, it didn’t matter to me. I didn’t care why Mia was here with me. I didn’t even really care whether she came or not, though having a woman with a badge on her chest did provide me with a little authority that I otherwise wouldn’t have had. At the end of it, though, all I wanted was to see that little boy safe and back with his mother. Although, if I got to bring the pain to whoever had electrocuted me to within an inch of my life, I wouldn’t complain about it.
Visions of breaking ski mask-covered noses danced through my head as Mia took a right turn so quickly that I was pretty sure two of her wheels left the ground.
“Did you even consider tapping the brakes?” I asked.
“We all grew up together,” Mia said. “We had been friends for decades before Jack was born. I knew that guy like I knew the back of my hand. I’ve been to his house more times than I can count. I’ve helped plan his birthday parties. Hell, Alexis called me on their wedding night, right after . . . you get the idea. We were all very close.”
“It’s good to have friends,” I answered. “It’d be better if your friends weren’t abusive kidnapping psychopaths, but I guess nobody is perfect.”
“That’s the thing,” Mia said. “You can say I’m too close to this situation if you want. You might even have a point, but I know what I know.”
“And you don’t think ‘what you know’ might be a little biased because of that closeness you were just talking about?” I asked like it was the most obvious thing in the world . . . because it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“I’ve been trained to make sure that’s not the case,” Mia said.
“I’ve been trained too, ma’am,” I said, deciding to be more formal given the serious nature of the situation and because I’d realized she hadn’t once called my by my first name. “I’ve been surrounded by good men and women who received the same training, and I watched most of that training go to hell at one point or another. And you know something? If I were to line up all of those men and women before they lost it, they’d have sworn to me that they wouldn’t. They’d have said they were as objective as the day was long and that staying calm would never be an issue.” I shrugged. “I guess the point is, none of us know how we’re going to react to a situation until we face it. All we can do is the best we can and hope we’re prepared enough for whatever comes.” I cleared my throat. “Also, you know, you’re always supposed to carry an extra pen. I’m not sure why that’s important, but my superior officer always made a really big deal about it.”
“Well, if I ever need to write something in longhand, I’ll know who to call,” Mia said. “Until then, I’ll do my job and you can sit there and watch me.”
“And what am I going to be watching, exactly?” I asked as we took another hard left. I was sure the wheels left the ground this time.
“You’re probably going to be watching a distraught man with his head in his hands, crying over his missing son,” Mia said. “That’s what I was saying. I couldn’t just let you come here, Lucky. I couldn’t let you bust in and ask someone who is very likely going through the worst moment of their life why they kidnapped their son. It wouldn’t end well for you.”
“For me?” I asked, my eyebrows raising. “I put him on his ass last time, in case you forgot.”
“He didn’t have his gun rack in spitting distance at the bar,” Mia said. “Like I said, this is very likely the worst moment of his life, and like you said, George is volatile. Those things and a mouth as big as the one you seem to be sporting wouldn’t mix very well.”
“I’m not afraid of him,” I answered, thinking of that little boy and the way he screamed for me as he was being pulled away.
“That hardly matters,” Mia responded. “If you burst in, accusing the sheriff's son of a crime he didn’t commit and you’re wrong about it, it’ll take more than seventy million dollars to get you out of it.” She took a deep breath. “Bonita Springs might have all the trappings of a tourist town. We might have the huge hotels and the five-star restaurants. We might even play host to thousands of snowbird tourists every year, but on the inside, Bonita Springs is a small town. It works the way a small town works. You get on the wrong side of the right people, and it’ll run you over. It won’t care how lucky you are.”
“That’s a play on my name, isn’t it?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the woman.
“I couldn’t help myself. It was just too easy,” she replied.
“The perils of the oddly monikered,” I muttered.
“I�
��m being serious, though. You need to proceed with caution here,” Mia said. “If you’re wrong—”
“What if I’m not?” I interrupted, breaking into her momentum. “I’ve heard a lot about what’ll happen if George didn’t do this, but what happens if he did? What happens if we get to this house and find Jack sitting there, scared and shaking? I know he’s your friend, but I want to hear you say that you’ll do what’s right.”
“Don’t make assumptions about me, Lucky,” Mia said. “Just because I know him doesn’t mean George is my friend anymore. He hasn’t been for a long time, and of course I’ll do what’s right. This badge is an oath that I took, and I’ll be damned and in Hell before I go back on my oaths.” Her far hand trickled across her eyes quickly, and I wondered if she was wiping away a tear. “Don’t you think I want you to be right? If George took Jack, that means that at least he’s safe. It means that the person who did this horrible thing won’t follow it up with another horrible thing. George loves his son, and I’d love nothing more than to find him there, safe and sound at the house at the end of this lane, but I don’t think I will. I think—”
Mia’s words stopped short and her face dropped. I had been looking at her intently, so much so that I hadn’t paid much attention to my surroundings.
“What is it?” I asked, following her line of sight. I didn’t need to wait for her answer. It was right there in front of me. A house at the end of the street was engulfed in bright red and orange flames, smoke pouring out of it in terrifying sheets.
“That’s it,” Mia said. “George’s house is on fire, and if Jack is in there, he’s in huge trouble.”
Chapter 9
Mia squealed to a halt the moment we saw the fire. As it turned out, the woman stopped just as quickly as she started behind the wheel. My body flew forward so quickly that I’d have almost certainly smacked my face against the dash if I hadn’t thrown my hands up to stop it. The house, a two-story beauty of a thing with a low-slung Mediterranean-style roof and the sort of fancy carport I’d have never splurged on regardless of how much money I ended up with, looked set to collapse under the brunt of this fire.