BAD TIME TO BE IN IT

by David Burnsworth

  The kid had a lead foot.

  Crome asked, “Can you get a move on?”

  “Might not be able to stop if a deer runs out as it is.”

  Either Pelton didn’t realize Crome had been kidding or was ignoring it. Crome liked him anyway. He liked it even more that his source had paid off big. Blu was tracking the abductor down as they spoke. Patricia had some pull with the mayor’s deputy and they were busy getting the paper trail in order for when the guy was brought down.

  Friday afternoon

  Blu had a name that didn’t set off any alarms and an address that didn’t mean anything to him either. And he had the initials MLM ECO. At least he had something.

  He also had Tess. More like he was stuck riding shotgun in her car.

  “You’re sure you don’t recognize the name?” she asked.

  “No.” He pulled a nine millimeter Glock from his waistband and verified the chambered round for the fifth time. The act was done more out of habit than necessity. A round was always chambered. It settled his nerves. So did vaping and he did that next.

  “What flavor is that?”

  “Blackberry.”

  “It’s different than what you normally have.”

  She was right. He normally liked one of the tobacco flavors.

  “You pay attention to my vape choices?” he asked.

  She turned and gave him her made-for-TV grin. With her dark-rimmed glasses, the smirk really got to him. But he had to stop himself from doing something stupid. He had Billie, or at least he hoped he still had Billie. He would know for sure if she ever called him back.

  Tess said, “I know a lot about you. And Crome.”

  “Like what?”

  “You worry a lot. About your daughter. About Billie. About getting too close to me and Harmony.”

  “Yeah?” What concerned him most was how close to target she’d hit.

  “Yes. And you worry about Crome.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” he asked.

  “He’s a grown man. I think he can take care of himself.”

  “He didn’t do a good job of that for a long time,” he said. “And not lately, either.”

  “You’re wondering if Billie is going to say yes. And you’re wondering what you’re going to do if she doesn’t.”

  “That’s enough,” he said. She was cutting deep.

  “You asked,” she said.

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  He leaned forward and stuck the gun in his back waistband. “You and Harmony hit this town like a wrecking ball in the wake of Darcy Pelton’s absence. You both get a lot handed to you because of how you look.”

  “How do we look?”

  “You know what I mean.” He felt his cheeks flush. “People underestimate you in particular. Harmony wears her visage on her sleeve. You keep people a few arms’ lengths away. It makes you more dangerous than she is.”

  “Dangerous?” she asked. “You think I’m dangerous, too?”

  “In a way,” he said. “Crome’s also dangerous, but in a different way. He will kill for the right reason. You, on the other hand, can gut a man without him even knowing it.”

  “Do you think I would do that to you?” she asked.

  “No,” he said and meant it. “I wouldn’t let you.”

  The smirk was back.

  This conversation would not—should not—have occurred with someone still in their twenties.

  They pulled to a stop at a light. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

  He didn’t stop her.

  It felt more intimate than he expected, not that he even expected to be kissed. Especially by her. There was passion and longing and understanding.

  Straightening up in time to see the light turn green, she accelerated.

  He vowed to himself that no one would ever know about what just happened.

  Luckily, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he was able to change his thought pattern. It was Powers.

  “Yo,” Blu answered, still flustered from Tess’ act of what he really hoped was pity.

  “I’m standing here at that address you gave me with three other units.”

  “You find the women?” he asked.

  “There’s no one here.”

  “Damn.” Blu didn’t know what to do next, so he said, “Thanks” and ended the call.

  Friday afternoon

  Crome wanted to punch something, but didn’t think Pelton would appreciate him hammering on the interior of his car. Especially after he said it had been a gift from his wife. So, he sat there seething.

  The lead had just fallen apart.

  The address the police had gotten from the license plate was to a house the police verified had a layer of dust covering the empty interior. The women were gone, probably dead, and the guy was in the wind. He’d vanished, never to return unless he decided to pick off another one of their friends and make them disappear as well.

  As if reading his mind, Pelton said, “This sucks.”

  “No kidding.”

  They were on the Cooper River Bridge on their way to meet Blu, Tess, and Detective Powers and the three units he’d brought with him at the empty house. The only intel they’d been able to get that was worthwhile, or so he thought.

  Crome pulled his phone out, made a call, and was surprised when it was answered.

  “Yes?”

  The bastard who really needed to die in the most horrific manner Crome could come up with actually answered the phone.

  “I’m coming for you,” Crome said, “and God won’t be able to help you.”

  The man laughed. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Mick. But first you have to find me. How’s that working out for you?”

  The call ended.

  Pelton said, “You’ve got his number?”

  Crome ignored him and made another call.

  After the call from Crome, Blu explained to Powers what they needed, and added, “And I mean right now.”

  Powers listened, nodded, and made a call.

  If they could triangulate the signal from the man’s phone, they might have a shot.

  Why the hell the guy actually had the phone on and answered it was a tactical mistake. Either that, or he already had it covered in some way.

  It was all they had left. It was a long shot, and if it didn’t work, they were back to square one and none of them wanted to be back to square one.

  Powers ended his call. “They’re on it. I had to use my last favor. But we’ll have something.”

  Tess said, “The guy actually answered his phone?”

  “Yes,” Blu said, “and I hope it’s the last mistake of his life.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Rooftop bar, downtown Charleston, Friday, five p.m.

  Crome hated waiting. It meant someone else was in control. Pinpointing cell phone signals was something neither he, nor Blu, nor Tess, nor Patricia, nor Pelton, nor even Darcy could do. It required pull with the feds who did it for the local police. And sometimes they weren’t quick about it. The last thing Crome wanted to be doing was waiting on the government. After all, he’d done his darnedest to fly under the radar and avoid the government as much as possible. The only reason he filed tax returns was because it was a federal crime not to. Otherwise, he’d be completely off the grid.

  The group sat at a large table at the Terrace bar overlooking Marion Square.

  Blu said, “Shut the hell up.”

  Everyone including Crome looked at him. Crome was quite sure he hadn’t said anything.

  “That’s right,” Blu said. “Your thoughts are screaming at me.”

  “You shut the hell up,” Crome said. It was a game they played to pass the time. And it annoyed everyone around them, which was the objectiv
e.

  “Are you guys for real?” Pelton asked.

  “Don’t start something you can’t finish, kid,” Crome said.

  Egging on Pelton was even more fun. He didn’t back down.

  And he didn’t this time either, “You talk real tough for someone your age.”

  “Yeah,” Crome said. “Well, this old man is about to kick your ass.”

  Pelton smiled. “Really? I’m sure you think that. Up until your partner has to save you from the beating of your life.”

  The kid probably got beat up more times than he really should have only because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

  “He’s got you there,” Blu chuckled.

  Tess said, “Do you boys always overcompensate?”

  The men were saved from any further humiliation by a call to Blu’s phone. It was Powers. Blu hit the speaker.

  “Carraway?” Powers asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Got some news.”

  Crome felt himself inch to the edge of his chair, ready to jump up and run.

  “Yes?” Blu replied.

  “The feds tracked the call to Folly Beach.”

  Everyone at the table stood up.

  Blu asked, “You got a location?”

  “As a matter of a fact I do.”

  It was a stone’s throw from Crome’s place.

  Blu looked at Crome who was already on his way to the exit.

  Patricia took out a hundred-dollar-bill, handed it to the waitress, and told her to keep the change. The tab for the one round for the six of them was probably around eighty dollars.

  They all took the stairs down.

  Crome followed Pelton who pressed the unlock button on his key fob and got into his car. Blu watched Crome barely have time to get himself in and close his door before Pelton laid two black tire marks on Calhoun Street.

  Darcy said, “They deserve each other.”

  Blu jumped into the driver’s seat of Tess’ convertible. “Get in.”

  To his surprise, she obeyed. The car had keyless ignition and he pressed the start button. They left Darcy and Patricia to themselves as they accelerated away.

  Calhoun Street was the last point that King Street went in both directions. Blu took a right heading away from the direction of the Battery and followed Pelton. Or tried to follow Pelton, as he slid his car around the corner and hammered it toward Seventeen which would take them to Folly Beach.

  Friday, five p.m.

  The man laughed to himself. If Mick Crome was able to trace the signal, he was sure the biker wannabe lost his lunch when he heard the location. It wasn’t that he was inside the biker’s house, but sitting in front of it, under an umbrella amongst all the other folks on the beach in front of it.

  He’d been waiting for this, praying for it actually. In fact, he’d spent several hours each day over the last week in this very spot just in case Crome got the idea to call.

  It was perfect. And now he could head home.

  As soon as the call had ended, he’d pulled the sim card, packed up his stuff, walked back to his SUV, ditching the phone along the way, and went home.

  To the women.

  Who were waiting for him.

  God, he loved that. They were like pets, relying on him for everything from basic sustenance to affirmation.

  They were his to do with as he pleased. And no one would take that from him. Not now.

  It made up for so much. Like when his woman got taken away from him. Why had he waited so long to get his revenge? He’d been distracted by his other causes. But when he saw Blu Carraway being interviewed in front of that burned out bait shop last year, he found a new cause. One that was for his benefit alone. He’d been so focused on saving the planet he’d forgotten about his own needs. Not any more. He would get his revenge, and he didn’t care if the world knew why or not. This was for him.

  At the moment, Crome appreciated the kid’s driving skills. Pelton threaded the muscle car in and out of traffic faster than an industrial sewing machine through a bolt of cloth.

  And he wasn’t slowing down.

  The car was wicked fast and the roar of the pipes was almost as good as his Harley’s.

  “What’s the plan?” the kid asked as he drove.

  “You get me there first and I’ll take care of everything. You can keep your hands clean.”

  “That’s not what I asked, Crome.”

  “That’s the answer you’re getting.”

  “What if I pull over and let Blu get there first?” he asked.

  Crome almost took out his gun and shot him except it wouldn’t do either of them any good as long as the car was in motion when he did it.

  He said, “Don’t make threats like that.”

  Downshifting, Pelton mashed the gas pedal and they rocketed around a garbage truck “Then don’t shine me on.”

  Pelton really did have a violence addiction. It was going to get him killed one of these days, Crome was almost sure of it. And then Darcy would be a widow and Paige would get his bars.

  Blu was not happy. Pelton was just too good of a driver and his car was much faster than Tess’. That meant they’d get to the house first. Except that he had the feeling the guy with a death wish who abducted Maureen and Harmony and killed the mayor wouldn’t be where the Federal Bureau of Investigations said he was.

  He handed his phone to Tess. “Call Powers back and see if the signal moved.”

  So far she hadn’t complained about how hard he drove her “cute” little car. It had scoot, but not a V-8 like Pelton’s Mustang, which they could no longer see ahead of them.

  From his periphery, Blu saw Tess tap the screen a few times and then put the phone up to her ear.

  She said, “This is Tess Ray. Blu wants to know if the signal moved.” There was a pause as she listened to his response. Then she said, “Thanks.” She lowered the phone and said. “You can pull over.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Pelton was faster and beat Crome out of the car, his forty-five drawn. If his own adrenaline weren’t pegged, Crome would contemplate who wanted to kill someone more, him or Pelton.

  The front door was still locked, just like Crome left it. With Pelton standing on the left side of the door, Crome inserted his key, turned the knob, and pushed the door in.

  They waited for the inevitable resulting gunfire, their backs to the walls beside the doorway. It didn’t come.

  Pelton swung his forty-five into the open door and entered.

  Crome followed, his Glock drawn.

  There was nothing.

  Everything was the way he remembered leaving it.

  They cleared the home room by room.

  They found nothing.

  Pelton clicked the safety on and stuck the forty-five down his back waistband.

  Crome felt his phone buzz, looked at the screen, saw BLU, and answered.

  “Nobody here besides me and Billy the kid,” Crome said.

  Tess said, “The FBI told Powers the signal vanished right after you called and hasn’t returned.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “There’s something else,” she said.

  “Well spill it,” Crome said after she didn’t continue.

  “The feds told Powers that phone has been pinging the signal in front of your house five hours a day for the last seven days.”

  “You’re telling me the guy’s been camped out in my backyard for the past week?” Crome asked, gripping the phone tighter with each word.

  “No,” she said, her voice measured. “I’m telling you what Powers told me.”

  “Same difference.” He ended the call.

  Pelton said, “I’m still hung up on the camera thing from Myrtle Beach.”

  “Yeah? Well good for you.” All he was thinking w
as how pissed off he was that they chased another rabbit down a hole that had too many directions to follow.

  “How well do you know your neighbors?”

  Crome had to slow his thoughts down to a manageable level in order to think about what Pelton was asking. He looked at the kid.

  Pelton smiled. “See what I’m asking.”

  “No.”

  “My bars,” Pelton continued, “have more cameras than your bank. Some are obvious because we advertise them with “Smile for the camera” signs. Others, well, not so much. The only places we don’t have coverage are the bathrooms. Everywhere else is under twenty-four-hour surveillance.”

  “Blu told me it helped you guys get the Hollander brothers.”

  A year ago, the same time Blu’s daughter was kidnapped, the whole thing kicked off with a shootout in Pelton’s bar. And it ended very badly for several men, including the two who started the gunplay. Crome had watched the footage of Pelton shooting it out with two professional killers.

  Regarding Pelton’s question, Crome did not know his neighbors. Most of them were vacation renters and rotated in and out all summer long. He said, “I don’t know them, but who we need to be looking for are the home owners who live here year-round. Most of them don’t.”

  Pelton pulled out his phone and made a call.

  When it was answered, he said, “Hey, Honey.”

  Crome almost chuckled. The kid was calling his wife, the same woman he’d just left high and dry at the rooftop bar when they sped off. Now he’d see how well he could smooth things out.

  After a pause, Pelton said, “I know. I’m sorry about that.”

  Another pause.

  “Me, too. What we need is information about the owners of the homes surrounding Crome’s. Can you or Patricia find out if any live there year-round?”

  If anyone in the county could, it was those two.

  “Thanks, Honey.” He ended the call.

  Crome eyeballed his friend. “She forgave you that fast? She’s a keeper.”