Chasing Shadows

by Jason Richards

  “So you do know who Aaron Hurley is?”

  “Hey, you tricked me.”

  “Wasn't that hard,” I said. “Listen, you were working for Jocko Scarpelli. He's already had two men killed. I suspect he wants to make Aaron Hurley a third murder victim. I don't want to see that happen. And for your sake, you better hope it hasn't already.”

  A flash of fear entered Frankie's eyes. He swallowed.

  “I told you I had a bad feeling about these jobs,” Jimmy said.

  “Zip it, Jimmy.”

  “Yeah, zip it, Jimmy,” Little John said.

  I think he enjoyed being my sidekick. A change of pace from guarding Big Lou. Not that there was much of him to guard.

  “You two are common thugs. You may occasionally beat people up, but I don't believe you are killers. I don't think you want to be associated with killers. You should also be aware that the State Police will be rounding up Mr. Scarpelli and his associates. If you would like to stay off the list of associates, I suggest you tell us where Aaron Hurley is.”

  “We had instructions to take him to a cabin north of Boston. We left him there tied up and unconscious, but he was alive when we left him. That's all we can tell you.”

  “Where's the cabin?” I said.

  Frankie told us.

  “You won't tell the cops about us, right?” Frankie said.

  “If the kid is okay, I'll leave you out of it. But if we get to him too late, you will go down with the rest of them.”

  CHAPTER 36

  MY CAR BUMPED ALONG the dirt road of the campground north of Boston. As a kid, I camped there once with my family. It was our first and last camping trip. None of the Patrick clan took to staying overnight in the woods.

  As we rounded a corner I could make out the flashing blue lights of several State Police Ford Interceptor Utility vehicles. I was still getting used to uniform Staties driving the SUVs rather than Ford Crowne Vic sedans. At least they kept the two-tone blue color scheme.

  I pulled to a stop next to Burke's unmarked gray Ford Fusion. Little John and I got out and heard Burke barking out orders to the State Troopers. When he finished, he turned to face us.

  “What happened to you?” he said when he saw my face.

  “Would you believe I have taken up Mixed Martial Arts fighting?”

  “No,” Burke said.

  “I'll tell you later,” I said. “What's the status?”

  “The cabin was empty,” he said. “We are searching the woods, but nothing yet. Sanchez led the first group into the woods.”

  “No surprise, there,” I said. “She's one of the best.”

  “Probably be in charge of the entire State Police one day,” Burke said.

  I agreed but didn't comment.

  “That car belong to Jax and Mikey Crane?” I said as I tipped my head toward the direction of a black pick-up truck.

  “Yep,” Burke said. “We ran the plates and it is registered to a Jackson Crane.”

  “It is what I expected,” I said, “but I don't like it.”

  “Course not,” Burke said. “Those two are Scarpelli's executioners.”

  “Do you think he's still alive?” I said.

  “Troopers arrived fast after your call and the truck's hood is still warm, so I'm hopeful. But it will be dark soon.”

  I had Burke give Little John and me an area to search, and we set off.

  “Be careful,” Burke called after us. “We consider those two extremely dangerous.”

  “That's why Little John is here,” I called back.

  We followed a path behind the cabin. There were a number of shoe prints. Some large enough to belong to Jax, Mikey, and Aaron. But the weather had been dry, so it was difficult to tell how fresh any of the prints were.

  “Lot of hikers use this trail,” Little John said. “Why would they go this way?”

  “The trail is closed for work on a footbridge up ahead.”

  “Good for not being noticed,” Little John said.

  “I keep telling Big Lou you are more than brawn.”

  We followed the trail deeper into the woods. Another cabin stood just before the footbridge out-of-service for repairs. Using large trees for cover, Little John peeled off to the back. He was remarkably stealth for such a large guy.

  I moved onto the cabin porch as quickly and quietly as I could. I peeked in through a front window. The cabin was empty. I went around back to Little John.

  “Empty,” I said.

  “Still a lot of ground to cover,” Little John said. “Which way do you think they went?”

  “I'd continue over the footbridge to the ravine.”

  The ravine was a perfect place to dump a body, I thought to myself. And I hated thinking it.

  “Let's go,” I said.

  As we approached the footbridge, Little John stopped. “Is it safe?” he said.

  “Should be.”

  “Should be?” he said looking at me. “You know how much I weigh?”

  “It's only a two-foot drop at this point. You'd be fine. Even Big Lou would be okay at that height.”

  “You go first,” Little John said.

  I did. The footbridge held. Little John followed. Boards creaked, but everything held.

  We were silent as we followed the trail at a fast pace. If I was right, we needed to catch up to them before they reached the ravine.

  My mind raced as we ran along the trail. I feared for Aaron. I wasn't entirely certain what we were running towards. I only hoped we could get there in time and come out on top.

  I slowed and held up my hand. We both stopped. I pointed through the trees.

  A guy was positioning himself to take a leak on a tree. Jax or Mikey? I wasn't sure which. It didn't much matter. We would need to take them both out.

  His back was to us. I sized him to be an inch or two taller than me. He was broad-shouldered and had arms and legs as thick as the tree trunk he was using to relieve himself.

  I looked around to see if I could see anyone else. I tapped Little John on the shoulder and pointed toward a clearing to our left. Aaron was sitting on the ground. His hands were zip-tied behind his back and his mouth covered with duct tape. He otherwise appeared unharmed. I wanted to keep it that way.

  A man equally as large as the guy marking his territory stood over Aaron. While he was keeping an eye on Aaron, he was aware of his surroundings. He'd be hard to approach without being spotted.

  Little John whispered to me, “How are we going to do this?”

  “There is no clear shot without the risk of hitting Aaron,” I said.

  “Okay by me,” Little John said. “I hate guns. Use one if I have to, but I don't usually have to.”

  “They are split up and we have the element of surprise,” I said. “This is our best chance. We need to move now.”

  I waited for Little John to move into position in the bushes near Aaron and the Crane brother watching him. He gave me a thumbs up. We agreed to go on the count of three after he gave the sign.

  Our timing had to be perfect. I counted in my head. When I reached three I sprinted out of my hiding spot.

  Little John was also in a sprint. I marveled at his quickness. He moved like a linebacker with his sights on a quarterback.

  I crashed into my Crane brother as he zipped up his fly. He face-planted against the tree, then staggered backward.

  I heard a gunshot echo through the trees. Birds took flight. I looked quickly and saw Little John holding his Crane brother's right arm up straight. They were equal in size and strength, locked in a battle for control of the gun. My money was on Little John. It had to be. Losing wasn't an option.

  Little John head-butted him and simultaneously knocked the gun loose. It clattered to the ground. Before Crane could shake off the buzzing in his head, Little John freight-trained forward and knocked him off his feet. He landed with a thud and the Blue Hills Observatory in Milton probably registered seismic activity. Little John did his best Jimmy “The Superfly” S
nuka impression and fell on top of Crane to put him out for the count.

  I circled my Crane brother as he swung wildly, trying to figure out which vision was the real me. I always aimed for the guy in the middle.

  With focused energy, I delivered an uppercut which popped his head back. He weebled and wobbled, but didn't fall down.

  I grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back until it snapped. He cried out in pain. I pinned his broken arm against his back with my left hand and punched him several times in the kidneys with my right. Pain radiated through my ribs as I twisted my body to deliver maximum force behind my punches.

  Crane tried to break loose, but I had his limp left arm pinned tight. He flailed with his right but was swinging at air. If we were in a ring, I'd have him on the ropes. I pounded away on his kidneys until his knees buckled. I swept his legs out from under him and let him crash to the dirt, face first.

  I pressed my knee into Crane's back and zip-tied his hands. He winced in pain. It probably didn't hurt enough for all he and his brother had recently done. The only consolation is that it was over.

  CHAPTER 37

  I WAS WITH BURKE AND Sanchez as we interrogated Jax and Mikey Crane at the State Police Boston Barracks on Leverett Circle. The room was barely large enough for the table and chairs. I stood in the corner. Burke and Sanchez sat across from Jax and Mikey.

  As it turned out, I had taken on Mikey Crane in the woods. He had an inflatable cast and sling on his arm. Both Jax and Mikey were cuffed to the table.

  “Does he have to be here?” Mikey said as he looked over at me.

  “No, he doesn't,” Burke said, “but he is staying.”

  “Guy broke my arm,” Mikey said.

  “We can see that,” Burke said.

  “You got off easy,” Sanchez said. “I would have broken something else.”

  “He ambushed me while I was taking a leak,” Mikey said. “That ain't right.”

  “Technically, you were zipping up,” I said.

  “We are charging you on kidnapping and attempted murder,” Burke said to Jax and Mikey. “It's as solid a case as they come. We also like you for the murders of Jack Murphy and Bradley Whitcomb.”

  “You can't prove nothing,” Mikey said. “And we ain't talking without a lawyer.”

  “You have the right to remain silent,” Sanchez said, “but you may be more interested in the deal we can offer you.”

  “What kind of deal?” Mikey said.

  “We have gathered evidence against Jocko Scarpelli,” Burke said. “Enough to put him away for a nice stretch. But we want to see him spend the rest of his natural life in prison. You agree to help, and we can work something out.”

  “Go on record for Scarpelli ordering the murders,” Sanchez said. “Confess to carrying out those murders and tell us everything you know about Scarpelli's organization.”

  “How do we benefit?” Mikey said.

  Most criminals flip to shave even a day off their sentence. The DA would not be offering a reduced sentence, so Burke and Sanchez got creative.

  “There are a lot of guys on the inside who would love to get a crack at you two,” Burke said. “Guys you have crossed over the years. Guys out for revenge because of jobs you carried out for Scarpelli. We can make sure you are not in the same prison population.”

  “You want us to give you everything we got on Scarpelli, and that is all you are offering?” Mikey said. “No way. It's not enough.”

  “Oh, come on,” I said. “Use your head for something other than slamming into trees. You can live out your remaining years in jail without having to look over your shoulder. You might even have time to take up a hobby. I bet you would love woodworking. Or is crafting more your thing?”

  Mikey gave me the finger. Seems I have been stirring that emotion in people lately.

  “Do that again,” Burke said, “and I'll let him snap it like he did your arm.”

  “This is the best deal you are going to get,” Sanchez told the two. “The DA will not put a reduced sentence on the table.”

  “Forget it,” Mikey said.

  “Maybe we should take it,” Jax said.

  “Shut up, Jax. We ain't giving them nothing.”

  “Suit yourselves,” Burke said.

  He and Sanchez got up and walked to the door. As Burke started to turn the knob he paused. “I just remembered something,” he said as he looked back toward the Crane brothers. “You two were once associated with Harry the Hacksaw, weren't you?”

  “I believe they were,” Sanchez said.

  “He's an extremely disturbed individual,” I said.

  “Out and out disturbed,” Sanchez said.

  “And didn't he vow to kill you two?” Burke said to Jax and Mikey.

  “He's threatened lots of guys,” Mikey said.

  “And how many of those guys are now dead?” Sanchez said.

  Jax and Mikey looked at each other.

  “I'm pretty sure you two will be prison mates with Harry,” Burke said.

  “Doesn't he run a prison gang?” I said.

  “Oh, sure does,” Burke replied. “And not just a prison gang. The prison gang.”

  “But there are guards, and rules, and such,” I said. “I'm sure you two will be fine.”

  “No matter,” Burke said. “They don't want to take the deal.”

  “We'll get you that lawyer,” Sanchez said.

  “What luck,” I said. “A new public defender just out of law school. Ready to take on their first defense case.”

  “But what they lack in experience,” Burke said, “they make up for in eagerness.”

  “True,” I said. “Eagerness counts for something.”

  “Just not normally a very effective defense,” Sanchez said.

  Burke and I nodded our heads. Then Burke opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Sanchez and I fell in behind him.

  “Hold on a second,” Mikey said.

  Burke stopped and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. He winked at me. The three of us turned back into the room.

  “We'll take the deal,” Mikey said.

  “But you need to keep us away from Harry the Hacksaw,” Jax said.

  “Smart move,” Burke said.

  Jax and Mikey sang like the Vienna Boys Choir. By the end of the evening, Burke and Sanchez knew all they needed to take down Scarpelli's organization.

  CHAPTER 38

  NORAH JONES WAS SINGING Come Away With Me on my MP3 player as I tossed a salad at my kitchen counter. A pan of Chicken Parmesan and a pot of Angel Hair pasta were almost ready to be plated. I wasn't much of a chef, but Chicken Parm with pasta and a tossed salad was one meal I could do well.

  Dash sat at my feet watching as I tossed the salad. He guarded the floor against any piece of lettuce, carrot, or cucumber that might fall. No doubt he was also exercising every bit of his patience waiting for the piece of chicken I had cooling on a plate for him.

  “More wine?” Jessica said.

  “Yes, please.”

  Jessica topped off each of our glasses of Sangiovese. She said that Italian red wine paired well with Chicken Parmesan. I took her word for it because she knows wine. I was happy with Two Buck Chuck from Trader Joe's, but I liked the Sangiovese.

  I tossed Dash a piece of lettuce. It disappeared in a matter of seconds.

  “Is there anything he won't eat?” Jessica said.

  “Probably not. I've stopped him from eating some truly gross things.”

  “I don't even want to know.”

  “Smart,” I said. “Especially just before dinner.”

  “It smells wonderful,” Jess said as she inhaled the aromas rising from the steaming plates.

  “Can you take the salad to the table?” I asked.

  “Sure.”

  Jessica picked up the salad bowl and placed it on my kitchen table. I prepared the plates for our main dish and placed them on the table. As we sat, Dash whined as he looked up at the counter.

  �
�You forgot Dash's chicken.”

  I got up from the table and placed the plate of cut-up chicken on the floor for Dash. He was finished before I reached my chair.

  “How is Tina Ross doing?” Jessica said as she cut into her chicken.

  “Back on track,” I said. “She is once again a senior at Cambridge Rindge and Latin, hanging out with her old friends, and doing well in every aspect of her life.”

  Jessica forked a piece of chicken. A string of cheese hung from her fork to the plate. She twisted her fork to roll the cheese up neatly like she was pulling in a fishing line.

  “Well?” I said after Jessica took her bite.

  “Tastes as good as it smells and looks. You should branch out.”

  “Because you're sick of my Chicken Parm?” I said.

  “Because you show promise in the kitchen.”

  Jessica smiled at me. Then she continued, “And it would be nice to have something other than Chicken Parmesan. As much as I love it.”

  Jessica smiled again. She could launch a thousand ships.

  We talked about the case against the Crane brothers. Their neighbors were stunned to learn Jax and Mikey were ruthless criminals and killers. Gwen Crane was devastated by the news. Family and friends rallied to offer the financial support she needed. Neighbors looked in on her and helped with transportation to doctors appointments.

  Jax and Mikey took some wrong turns in life and ended up the way they did. Nothing could take away Gwen Crane's sorrow at what they had become, but she didn't deserve to be punished for their crimes. I was glad those around her understood that and were there for her.

  “I understand Boston College is going to a bowl game,” Jessica said. “And that Aaron Hurley is a big reason why.”

  “Yes,” I said. “He has had a record-breaking season.”

  “It must be gratifying,” she said.

  “I'm happy for him,” I said. “It could have turned out very differently.”

  “You saved his life.”

  “Little John helped.”

  I ate a piece of chicken and followed it with some wine. I think the extra cost for an expensive wine is wasted on me.

  “I'm not talking about the act of physically rescuing him from harms way,” Jessica said. “Your willingness to pursue an investigation, to get him out of trouble, saved that young man from becoming like Jax and Mikey Crane.”