by Nora Kane
“I will,” Margot said.
Shaw drove off leaving Melanie and Radcliff standing there waving goodbye.
“I have to admit, I’m not used to people helping me,” Margot told Shaw as they drove.
“You should get used to it.”
“I wish I could. It’s weird going to a women's shelter.”
“Safehouse.”
“Still weird, though that does make it feel less weird.”
“Everybody needs help sometimes.”
“It’s not that—well, it’s not only that. Do you know how many times I tried to get my mom to go to a place like this?”
“No, but I’m guessing a lot.”
“She’d never go. If she had, she might still be alive.”
“Which is why you’re going. We want you alive.”
“You know, I used to take pride in not falling into the cycle of abuse. I saw it happen to Melanie more than once. She fell for abusive assholes just like dad. I always thought I did better.”
“Radcliff seems better.”
“He is, no doubt. Mal was too, I guess, in a way. He hasn’t killed me yet, anyway. Looking back, though, I wasn’t really doing better. I was just doing different. Mal never hit me, but he was a bad guy doing bad things, and I couldn’t help being attracted to him. I think he always knew he was self-destructive, and I was the perfect girl because I was willing to go with him.”
“But you stopped that. You don’t have to be that person.”
“Maybe. Mal or no Mal, I’m still putting myself in harm's way.”
“Yeah, but you’re doing it for the right reasons.”
“Am I? I went to Miss Dithers’ place thinking about kicking her ass for lying to me.”
“I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but some people might be better off if they do get a good ass-kicking.”
“I’m guessing she would have disagreed.”
Shaw laughed. “That’s the thing about people who need an ass-kicking, they never know it. If they did, they wouldn’t need it.”
“That’s the truth.”
They drove in silence for a while. Margot found herself checking the mirrors as they drove and marking cars close by to see if they matched the turns Shaw was making.
“You worried someone is following us?” Shaw asked.
“Is it obvious?”
“Yeah, kind of. I’ll admit I’ve been doing the same thing.”
“Actually, I’ve been doing that for a while now, pretty much a habit.”
“I wish I could say you don’t need to do it, but…”
“Yeah, it’d be nice to get this thing over with, but it may never happen.”
Shaw wanted to tell her she was wrong. That they’d find the ambidextrous shooter soon enough, figure out who he was working for and that she could forget about all this, but he knew it probably wouldn’t be that simple.
Even if they hadn’t been talking about the possibility of someone trying to follow them, Shaw would still have taken an odd route to Ms. X’s safe house to make it even tougher for someone to follow them.
He was just about to make the final turn when a white sedan appeared in the mirror turning down the same road they were on. Margot noticed it at the same time as Shaw did.
“Could it be?” he asked as he drove past the turn.
Margot reached into her purse and took out her gun.
“It certainly could.”
“Shit, even though she didn’t say specifically, I’m pretty sure the Doc would want you to avoid both shootouts and high-speed car chases.”
“I’d say most doctors would advise against those in any situation. I’d also say it doesn’t seem like we have a choice.”
“It’s possible it’s just a white car; the shooter is hardly the only person with a white car,” Shaw remarked as he made a left and then stomped on the gas.
He didn’t slow down until he took the second right turn available. He kept the speed up as he went around the block and then stopped at the edge of the next intersection, where he had a clear view down the street to the road he just drove on.
They both watched the white sedan go by, moving faster than the speed limit for the first time since they had spotted it. Shaw pulled back onto the street and drove to the next intersection. Margot was surprised when he put on his turn signal to go back the way they came.
“You don’t want to follow them?”
“I’m trying to avoid high-speed chases and shoot-outs.”
“I know I just got out of the hospital, but don’t let them go on my account.”
“Who said this had anything to do with you? I like to avoid them as a general rule.”
“Fair enough.”
Shaw took them back towards Ms. X’s place.
Margot asked, “Had you turned on your blinker?”
“You mean, to turn before we spotted them?”
“Yeah.”
Shaw thought about it for a second. “Damn, I did.”
“So, they know the street.”
“Yeah, but they don’t know which house or even if this was our last turn.”
“Unless they come back and see your car parked out front.”
“Damn, you’ve got a point,” Shaw conceded as they rolled past the safehouse without slowing down. “I don’t want to burn this place. First, Ms. X would never forgive me and frankly, she does good work. I have to admit I was looking forward to saying hello though.”
“You say that like you and Ms. X have a thing?”
Shaw shrugged. “I don’t know how much of a thing it is when I don’t even know her real name.”
He went to the next intersection and waited a while just watching his mirror before he turned and went around the block. He parked in front of the neighbor’s house across the street after they came back around.
“Can you cross the street? This way I can cover you,” Shaw said as he reached across Margot and took a Glock 21 out of the glove compartment and chambered a round.
“I’m not an invalid.”
“I didn’t say you were. Get out and hustle inside the best you can. I’ll bring the rest of your stuff later.”
“If we have to take them on, I’d feel better about our chances if it’s two of us.”
“If you hurry up and get in the house, we won’t have to take them on at all,” Shaw said as he picked up his phone and dialed Ms. X.
After she answered, he said, “She’s coming in hot,” and ended the call.
“I can get my bag.”
“The doc said no lifting anything over five pounds. Go!”
Margot took her purse, which with a trio of weapons plus a digital recorder weighed well over five pounds, and got out of the car. Before she closed the door, Margot turned around and said, “Don’t do anything stupid like trying to take this guy by yourself.”
“Odd advice coming from you.”
“Who would know better?”
“The longer you stay here talking, the more likely I’m going to have to. Get moving.”
She would have liked to run, but she wasn’t sure she felt strong enough so Margot walked instead. A petite woman with a mane of thick curly gray hair opened the door as Margot got close. She ushered her in and then stepped outside.
Margot noticed the woman had a little .32 in her palm. It wasn't the best gun around—it carried a magazine that held six rounds and back in the day they would have called it a ‘Saturday Night Special’—but if Ms. X kept it clean, it would fire, and just being cheap didn’t make it less deadly. Satisfied no one had seen Margot go inside, Ms. X went into the house herself.
Margot was watching out the window, keeping her body to one side so she could see out, but no one looking would see her.
Ms. X put her Cobra CA .32 in a pocket in her blouse and then went to the closet and retrieved a Mossburg .12 gauge shotgun. With the shotgun in hand, she went to the other side of the window and joined Margot watching the road.
They watched Shaw drive of
f and then continued to watch the street. It wasn’t long before a white sedan cruised slowly past them.
The look on Margot’s face told Ms. X they were looking at the man who had tried to kill her two days ago. Neither breathed until the sedan got to the end of the block and turned.
“I should have gone out and got the license plate,” Ms. X said.
“I think walking out with the scattergun would have drawn some attention and that peashooter wouldn’t be much of a match for two Mac-10s.”
Ms. X smiled. “Everybody makes fun of this little gun, but no one is willing to stand in front of me and be target practice. I was thinking they have no reason to be looking for me, so I could have got the plate.”
“Holy shit!” Margot exclaimed.
“I don’t think the fact they wouldn’t know me from a hole in the wall is that big of a revelation.”
“No, I just realized I already got the license plate! It’s on my phone. I can’t believe I forgot!”
“Damn near bleeding to death can do that to a person, I’d suspect.”
“I still should have figured it out before now,” Margot groaned as she put the gun away and took out her phone.
She went into her notes and then sighed as she opened the app.
“What’s the matter?”
Margot turned the phone so Ms. X could see it. “I was worse off than I thought.”
Ms. X looked at Margot’s phone: the first three letters were clear, but then the number nine was on there about ten times followed by two A’s followed by ten sevens.
“Too many characters,” Ms. X sighed.
“Especially considering, if my memory is correct, it was only a partial.”
Just then, Cassie stepped into the front room, drawing a look from Ms. X, who strongly discouraged people staying at the safe house from interacting with each other.
“We already know each other,” Cassie explained quickly, registering Ms. X’s disapproval. “She brought me here, and she’s even been over to check on me like six times.”
“Sorry,” Ms. X replied, “I guess I switched over from thinking of her as a visitor to thinking of her as a client.”
“Since we already know each other, we could probably use names too,” Cassie added.
“I suppose so, but I’m going to remain Ms. X. Perhaps it’s not a good idea to have your reunion right now by the window while someone looking for Margot is cruising the neighborhood.”
“It’s probably a good idea for none of us to hang around the window,” Margot said.
“The T.V. room is clear,” Cassie told them. “Blondie went to her room.”
“Blondie? You go by hair color?”
“Yeah, here I’m jet black or jet for short. Actually, it’s cooler than my real name.”
“But don’t call me gray,” Ms. X joked to Margot as they made their way to the T.V. room.
“So what am I going to be if Blondie is taken?”
Cassie pointed at the bandage over Margot’s eye and said, “Patch.”
“Patch?”
“It’s better than Band-Aid or the Other Blondie.”
Margot couldn’t argue that point. They all found seats on the big couch and the love seat opposite a big flat-screen television.
“If you’re wondering, you also have your own T.V. in your room,” Ms. X told Margot.
“I wasn’t, but thanks.”
“Can I see your phone?” Cassie asked.
“You think you can decode what my brain punched in while being deprived of blood?”
“Maybe.”
Margot handed her the phone. “Good luck.”
Cassie took it and then set it down right away. Without a word, she got up and went to her room. She returned moments later with a small notebook and a pen.
“I think I heard you say you didn’t get it all?” Cassie asked.
“I didn’t.”
“Do you remember how many?”
“It’s foggy, but I think seven. It seems like the last two were obscured—or by the time I got there, he was already too far away.”
“Would that even do us any good?” Ms. X asked.
“If they cross-reference what she got with the make and model, they could track it down pretty quickly,” Cassie told her.
Ms. X looked at Margot.
“She’s right,” Margot confirmed. “The more the better since we’d be guessing on the year of the car, but it’d take my friend in the department about ten minutes if we had accurate information. She might even do it for free, given the circumstances.”
“Couldn’t you just tell the police?” Ms. X asked.
Margot laughed. “Yeah, I guess there’s no need to go through back channels. Sorry, old habits die hard.”
Cassie picked up the phone again and looked at the note Margot had left for herself. After a long second, she started writing.
“The T, W, and M are probably right. My guess is the reason there are ten nines is you were blacking out without knowing it and held your finger on the number, causing it to repeat.”
“Makes some sense,” Ms. X chipped in.
“Unless there is more than one nine...”
“Yeah, but the odds are with us that it’s not, though it’s certainly possible. Let’s assume you did the same thing on the A and the seven. That gives us TWM9A7. Six characters. Are you sure you got seven?”
“No, everything is a fog from when I crawled out of the car, but seven feels right.”
“Then one is a double.”
“Or I missed typing in the last one completely.”
“Isn’t six nearly as good as seven if they can cross-reference the vehicle?” Ms. X asked.
“I think our host has a point.”
“Assuming any of it is right at all,” Margot sighed.
“Don’t be so negative,” Cassie told her as she handed her the notebook with the six digits written at the top of an otherwise blank piece of paper. “Call your boyfriend and have him get on this.”
Cassie put Margot’s phone on the table and slid it to her.
Instead of calling Radcliff though, Margot found Myers’ card and dialed him instead.
Chapter 7
Margot slept well, though a lot of that probably had to do with the pain medication the doctors had sent with her. It was strong enough that she didn’t miss her usual tumbler of Maker’s Make over ice. It was probably just as well Ms. X didn’t keep a stocked liquor cabinet since mixing alcohol and pain meds would be a bad idea. Margot knew herself well enough to know it was a bad idea she could talk herself into.
