The Murder Run Page 8
He made his way to the gate, stood next to the dumpster, and peered down the street. The Navigator was gone, and the street was empty. He pulled off the Kevlar, wiped it and the rifle as best he could with his handkerchief, and dropped them into the dumpster. The Glock he slipped into his waistband under his shirt. Then he looked at his side. Sure enough, he was trickling blood. He put his hand over the wound and pressed gently. He winced against the pain. Not too bad. He tried to stand up straight and walk naturally. His clothes were a mess, but the night sky was dark with clouds. Got to keep moving. He took a few tentative steps. This wasn’t going to work. He leaned up against the chain-link fence and looked up a taxi company on his smartphone.
When the taxi pulled up, he got in the back, acting drunk, and slid down in the seat. “Where to?” the driver said.
He gave him the address of the Trucker’s Delight truck stop.
“You get lost, brother?” the driver asked.
“Lost?”
“I never picked up a fare out here before.”
“I’ve got an extra fifty that says your fare wasn’t here.”
“Let me see it.”
Tony held up a wad of twenties.
The driver got on the radio. “There’s nobody here. I’m headed back downtown.”
When they got to the truck stop, Tony leaned against the outside wall away from the doors while he watched the taxi drive away. Then he hobbled across the divided highway, clutching his side, and made his way to his motel room. The Do Not Disturb sign was still on the door. He turned on the lights with the door open. No one was waiting for him. He shut the door, locked it, and stumbled across the room to the bathroom. He pulled up his bloody shirt. There was a hole in his lower outside abdomen oozing blood. It couldn’t be too bad. He’d been shot hours ago, and he was still on his feet. He peeled off his dirty clothes, dropped them into the bathtub, and then grabbed a washcloth off the shelf over the toilet, ran it under the faucet, and wiped himself off. The wound was still seeping. He pressed a clean washcloth against it.
He found a roll of duct tape in the go bag he’d left on the bed. He pulled the end free with his teeth and wrapped the tape around his waist to secure the washcloth. What else had he brought? Change of clothes. His other gun and his money were in the box spring. He went back into the bathroom and drank a full glass of water. Then another. Thus far, he was doing okay, but he needed a doctor. This wound was going to get worse, not better. He put on clean underwear and crawled up on the bed. There was no one he trusted who could help him from here. Not anyone he would trust with his life. There could be a bullet in him. He could wake up with a fever and puss even if the bullet had gone straight through. If he went to the emergency room with a gunshot wound, he’d wind up in jail. He had no choice. He picked up his phone and made the call.
“Hello?” Nicole sounded as if he’d woken her.
“I fucked up,” he said.
“Are you safe?”
“Yeah. I got shot. I’m okay, but I need your help.”
“You still in Mitchellville?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s your address?”
He told her.
“It’s going to take me most of twenty-four hours to get there. Should I reach out?”
“No, I’ve got trust issues right now. I’m not leaking too much. I just can’t manage on my own.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m on my way.”
“I’ll be here.”
Nicole climbed out of bed in the dark. “What’s up?” Denison asked.
“Tony needs my help.”
He rolled toward her. “What? Right now? It’s the middle of the night.”
“Go back to sleep. I have to make some preparations. We’ll talk in the morning. I promise.”
She slipped on her robe as she walked down the hall to the living room. What had Tony gotten himself into? These simple little pass-the-time jobs were going to be the death of him. He was shot, reaching out to her, so Duke and the other guy must be dead or in the wind. She poured herself a glass of water. But he wasn’t hurt badly enough to take a chance on a friend of a friend. He was willing to wait for her. She needed to line up a doctor and a full set of heavy gear. She speed-dialed Billy.
He was wide-awake. “What’s up, Missus? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“I need a combat package.”
“How many?”
“Two, one with a sniper setup,” she said.
“Where you fighting this war?”
“Mitchellville.”
“Where your old man is? You can have it tomorrow.”
“And I need a doc.”
“I don’t have a doc in Mitchellville. Can you drive?”
“Rather not.”
“I’ve got a vet.”
“That’ll have to do.”
“Okay, hang on a second while I look this up.” The line was quiet. “Got a pencil?”
“Go.”
“Danny Newberry at Happy Pets Clinic. 1145 Washington Trail.”
“Got you.”
“He’ll be expecting you. And my guy will be in contact with you to set up the drop—probably one o’clock at the earliest.”
“I’ll be traveling tomorrow, so I may have to return his call.”
“No problem.”
“Thanks, Billy. Send a bill through the usual account, and I’ll transfer the cash.”
“Good luck.”
She got out her laptop computer and looked at possible airplane reservations. Three airlines. No direct flight into Mitchellville. But Washington, DC? One first-class ticket left into BWI Marshall Airport. Eight a.m. She bought it. Then she went back into the bedroom and slipped into bed.
Denison pulled her close. “Did you get it sorted out?”
His beard brushed against her cheek, and she breathed in his scent. “We’re not talking about it tonight, Jimmy. Everything is okay. I’ve got my plan in place. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“I’m awake now.”
“I know.” She ran her hand down his arm and let it rest at his waist. She kissed him. “I love you.”
“I won’t be able to sleep until you tell me.”
She sighed. “You really want to know right now?”
“I have to know.”
“Okay.” She filled in the details.
“That’s everything?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Tony could be dead before you get there. Killers could be waiting for you.”
“I’m leaving here at six fifteen. I’ll be gone three days to a week.”
“This is crazy.”
“I’ll call you every day.”
“Do you think that makes it better?”
“And I need for you to help Lily if she needs anything.”
“Super.”
“It’s just until I get back.”
“What if those guys come here?”
“Why would they do that?”
“But what if they break in?”
“Run. Call the cops.”
“You’re making me crazy.”
She kissed him again. “Enough. It’s time to sleep.” She rolled over and backed up against him. “Hold me.” He put his arms around her. She folded her arms across her chest and held his forearms. “That’s better. Go to sleep.”
6
Changing the Game
Nicole and Denison sat at the kitchen island. Denison was still in his robe, while Nicole was dressed in a black pantsuit. Her hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck. She took a sip of coffee. “Any more questions?”
“You shouldn’t go.”
“Jimmy, we’ve been over this.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Jimmy, when I came back, I didn’t lie to you. I told you that I was going to help Tony whenever he needed me. That’s the way it has to be.”
“I know. I just didn’t—”
“You wer
e hoping he’d never call.”
“I didn’t realize what it would feel like.”
She reached across the island and took his hand. “I love you. And if you change your mind, if you don’t want me anymore, that will be hard. I’d be sorry a long time. But the reason I wasn’t afraid going after Bell was because I knew if things went bad he’d be coming after me. No doubt. No questions. When he calls, I’m going to go.”
“And you aren’t afraid?”
“Of course I’m afraid. God knows what I’m going to find. I’m just going to make myself ready for whatever comes.”
“Well, I don’t care about him. I’m in love with you.”
“And I love you. Everything about you. But I’m going to go help him.” She looked out the window. “The cab is here.”
He followed her into the front hall. Her suitcase was by the door. She kissed him. He held her, his eyes closed, imprinting the feel of her body in his mind.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
“I hope so.”
She put on a pair of fake glasses, opened the door, and waved at the taxi. “I’ll call when I land.”
Midmorning, Lily sat at her desk at Travel Dreams travel agency looking at her desk phone. She needed to get her handbag back. Her wallet, her driver’s license, her credit cards, and her phone were in it. It was a mistake carrying her life around with her when she was flirting up strangers. She should have just had cash in her pocket. She knew that now. And she knew what she had to do. It was simple. Call her phone. Talk to whoever answered. Get them to agree to give up her stuff. Meet in daylight in public. But yesterday, she just hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. Whenever she’d picked up a phone to input her smartphone number, she had felt that guy’s hands on her shoulders, smelled his breath in her face. She’d been such an idiot. She could, of course, cancel the credit cards, replace the phone, report the driver’s license as stolen, but those guys knew her name and her address. She had to know if she was safe. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She picked up the desk phone and input her phone number.
Her smartphone rang and rang, but no one answered. The call moved over to voice mail. No help there. Without the phone password, they couldn’t see the voice mail. She hung up. Had they thrown her bag in a dumpster that night or the next morning? Had she been worried about her personal safety all this time for no reason?
Her desk phone rang. She was startled. Crazy thinking. It can’t be them. She put her hand on her chest and took a deep breath before she picked it up. “Travel Dreams. We make your dreams come true. How can I help?”
“Chrissie, please.”
She transferred the call. She was just winding herself up. Making herself even more anxious. She needed to settle down. Maybe they just couldn’t get to her phone in time. She called herself again. The phone rang. She was about to hang up when someone answered.
“Hello,” a man’s voice said.
She glanced around to make sure no one was in listening range. “You took my handbag.”
“You tried to steal my car.”
“I want my bag back.”
He chuckled. “With the phone and the wallet?”
“Yes.”
“What have you got to trade?”
“To trade?”
“I got this bag, and its contents, fair and square. If you want it back, you’re going to have to give me something in return.”
“Like what?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something. And remember, Lily, I know your name, where you work, and where you live, so don’t do anything stupid.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Call me back when you’ve decided what you want to trade.”
The line went dead. Vomit started to rise up her throat. She clamped her hand over her mouth and swallowed it back down. That guy still thought he could fuck her. She gulped a mouthful of cold coffee. She hadn’t even taken the car. She wasn’t going to let him touch her again. No way. She gripped the edge of her desk to stop her hands from shaking. There had to be a way to get him off her back. Nicole. She needed to call Nicole.
When Nicole landed at BWI Thurgood Marshall Airport, it was 4:30 p.m. local time. She’d slept three hours on the plane. Thank God for first class. The landing gate was standing room only with passengers heading back to San Francisco, and the concourse was busy, but she found a women’s restroom with no line. While she was in the stall, she put her Nicole Carter wallet into her rolling carry-on bag and replaced it with her Caroline Webber wallet. She spotted a Caffeination coffee shop on her way toward the main terminal. As she stood in line for coffee, she checked her messages. There were two missed calls. She clicked on the first one.
“Yeah, hello?”
“I’m returning your call.”
“You are. I’ve got your package.”
“Call me tomorrow morning with a time and place.”
“Will do.”
She clicked on the second one.
“Travel Dreams.”
“Lily?”
“Nicole. I tried to call you hours ago.”
“Something came up. I’m out of town.”
“Out of town?”
“Yeah. What do you need?”
Lily told her about her conversation with the guy from the parking lot. Nicole got her coffee and sat down at an empty gate. “We’ve got to be completely honest with each other if I’m going to help you.”
“Okay.”
“Would you have sex with this guy if you thought you could trust him to give you your bag?”
“No.”
“And you don’t think he’ll just forget about you after a while?”
“I don’t think so.”
“So you can’t just buy a new phone and get a new license?”
“He’s got my address, and he says he knows where I work.”
“Are you on friendly terms with a bartender at that bar?”
“Lucky Joe’s?”
“Yeah.”
“I know a few of the guys.”
“Any women?”
“No.”
“Makes it a little tougher, but it will work. Go to the bar. Tell the bartender that a guy tried to rape you in the parking lot. Tell him you were afraid to report it, but that some people helped you and you changed your mind, and you want to see the surveillance footage to see if it’s good enough to press charges.”
“How will that help me get my bag back?”
“If the footage is good, get a copy. Then you’ll have something to trade. If not, see if you can get his car’s license plate number, and we’ll go forward from there.”
“This is your plan?”
“You want your bag? You don’t want to screw this guy, and you don’t want to move? This is how you get it done. Of course, you could always just forget about it.”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
“Then get the footage. And buy a cheap phone and text me your number so we can stay in touch.” She glanced down the concourse. “Look, you can do this. Call me when you get the footage.”
Nicole rolled her case out onto the sidewalk in front of the terminal. Passengers stood in clumps with their bags waiting for their rides while cars and minivans fought their way to the curb. The closest shuttle bus stop to the economy parking was off to the right. She put on her sunglasses. Lily and her easy, easy problems. She shook her head. She had to put Lily out of her mind. She needed to focus on Tony. How badly was he hurt? Were killers still after him? Every choice she made might be the one choice that made all the difference.
The shuttle bus jostled out of the terminal, down a one-way access road, and into a gated parking lot. The other passengers looked as if they were resigned to long lines and bad traffic. She got off at the last stop and pretended to adjust her bag while the last two passengers disappeared among the cars. Then she started down the nearest aisle, taking her time, looking for a car that was reasonably comfortable, handled well, and
was as common as dirt. She stopped at a tan Toyota Camry with a standard license plate, glanced around, popped the door lock, and put her roller bag in the back. Then she hot-wired the ignition. Half a tank of gas. She made a left out of the airport and drove west toward Mitchellville. Forty minutes later, she pulled into a Target superstore parking lot, rode up and down the aisles until she found another Camry off in the far corner, and swapped out the license plates. An hour and a half later, she got off the interstate at the first Mitchellville exit.
She pulled into a strip mall, parked well away from the security cameras, and went into a Your Health Pharmacy. She bought a backpacker first aid kit, three bottles of Gatorade, a box of granola bars, six tubs of microwavable soup, a six-pack of water, a fifth of Jim Beam whiskey, and two cell phones. She used her Caroline Webber credit card. Then she got back on the interstate and got off on Sixty-third Street. It was just as Tony had described it. Seedy truck stop on one side of the divided highway and the motel, looking worse for wear, on the other side. She parked in front of his room and knocked on the door. The door cracked open, displaying the business end of a Glock.
“Love you, honey,” she said.
The door swung open. Tony was standing in his boxer shorts, duct tape wrapped around his middle. He looked like a wino after a two-week bender.
She folded him into a hug. “You look like shit,” she whispered.
He smiled. “You can’t imagine how wonderful it is to see you.”
“Get back in bed. I’ve got to unload the car.”
She carried in the bags from the pharmacy and rolled in her carry-on bag. “How are you?”
“I’m okay, I think.”
She got out the first aid kit and took his temperature. “Your temp’s good. Do you want something to eat?”
“Fill me in first.”
She handed him a Gatorade before she sat on the edge of the bed. “I got in touch with Billy before I left town.”