No Options

by Jennifer Haynie

  “After the last IVF failed, I went over there. I was devastated. I couldn’t talk to any of the wives about it. Only Rita. But she’d already left for a week at the beach while Sal took care of some stuff at the house. I didn’t realize that when I went over there. I just started blubbering. I guess he was trying to comfort me, and it turned into something else. It was only one time.” A vein pulsed in her temple.

  “But it was enough.”

  She nodded. “I told the other wives I was expecting late that summer. Of course, they thought we’d had some success with IVF. I knew better. And I knew that when the baby was born, Jessie would know I’d strayed.” She shrugged, and her eyes filled. “But then, it didn’t matter anymore.”

  Abigail tapped her pen on her paper. She’d gotten enough, and she doubted there was anything else of substance. Except for that telltale vein. “Is there something else I should know?”

  Tina shook her head. Her feet now pointed to the door as if she wanted to flee.

  Abigail rose. “We’ll walk you out.”

  “I’m... actually meeting someone here. A date.”

  Abigail stopped when they reached the patio. “Oh?”

  A blush started on her cheeks. “Yeah. We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

  Abigail glanced at the bar.

  Nick slid off his chair and followed them.

  They paused just outside the Judas gate. “Tina, thank you.”

  “Just promise me one thing.”

  Abigail drew in a deep breath of cleansing, refreshing air. “What would that be?”

  “Find the bastard behind the killings of the Mighty Men.”

  “I will. I promise—”

  A roar filled the air.

  “Gun!” Marti shouted.

  Abigail didn’t have time to think—only react. Time slid into slow motion. Bullets sliced through the air, shattering windows and chipping bricks. People screamed. Tables overturned. She shoved Marti and Tina down. Was that her voice shouting?

  Time jerked back into place as two Kawasaki motorcycles skidded around a corner. Their racket faded.

  Nick!

  Had he been hit? Where was he?

  Her arm throbbed anew from landing on it. She stared.

  Nick pushed off the ground. He shook his head as if trying to clear it. “Abigail...”

  Someone moaned from the patio.

  “I-I’m fine.”

  His gaze slid to Tina. “She’s not.”

  Abigail winced as she righted herself. “What... Oh, no!”

  Tina lay wide-eyed beside her. Except she wasn’t moving. Blood spread in scarlet from her neck.

  Abigail fumbled for a pulse. Nothing. A groan escaped her as she closed her eyes. Oh, did she ever have trouble now.

  23

  Friday, April 21, 2017, 2230 hours EDT, Raleigh, NC

  One dead. Four injured. Abigail slouched at a glass-topped bistro table and stared through the wrought iron fence across the mouth of the Ball and Dart’s alley. She winced as the wound on her arm ached in time with her pulse.

  She squinted in the blinding glare of the Klieg lights. Just on the other side of the Judas gate, techs from the morgue lifted the now-bagged body of Tina Delaney onto a gurney and wheeled her away. Forensic techs from the Raleigh/Wake City-County Bureau of Investigation crouched and took photos of the scene. Nearby, Nick gestured to another detective as they talked. She and Marti had already given their statements, but Nick had ordered them to stay.

  What a mess.

  All because of her.

  “Here. I figured we could use a couple of adult beverages.” Marti set a goblet of Chardonnay in front of her. “Joel said it’s on him.”

  “Thanks.” Abigail took a sip and tried to ignore the way the golden liquid shook. “And thanks for getting a Chardonnay instead of Merlot. It would have reminded me too much of blood tonight.”

  “I hear ya. My system’s still jangling. Having Marvin call me all upset didn’t help things.”

  Abigail’s head snapped around. “What?”

  “It made the national news. Breaking news too.”

  Abigail cast another glance toward the street. Uniformed patrol guarded the edge of the perimeter. The low rumble of fire engines and crackling radios provided the only sounds. She couldn’t even hear Nick as he conferred with his partner next to the fence. Then it sank in. The place had been crawling with cops after work, her whole reason for having the meeting here. Two of the four injured had been off-duty officers swinging by for a drink with their buddies. Double the weight of responsibility for them to find the perpetrators. Did they blame her for what had happened?

  She lowered her head.

  “We’ll be fine,” Marti said after a moment.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Abigail.”

  “The only other person who knew my plans was Nabeelah.”

  “Would she do something like this?”

  “Not when she wants Sal.”

  The voices raised in volume. Suddenly, an all-too-familiar one broke into her thoughts.

  Gabe stepped into view as he gestured at them.

  Nick and his partner blocked the gate as if protecting their witnesses behind the iron bars.

  Gabe flipped open his cred pack and brandished it with a flourish. “I’m CID! I work with Abigail and Marti, for cryin’ out loud.”

  Nick shook his head and rested his hand on his gun, which he now wore in a holster on his hip. “I don’t care if you work for the Pope. I still—”

  “Nick, it’s okay.” Abigail rose. At least her legs were steady. “Gabe’s the CO of the Computer Crimes Unit.”

  Nick cast an annoyed look at her.

  She approached the fence. “Seriously. It’s okay.”

  Only then did he step aside.

  Gabe burst onto the patio. Without hesitation, he swept her into his arms and held her so close she felt the hammering of his heart against her chest. “When I saw what happened on the news, I was worried—”

  “I’m fine. Promise”

  Nick glared at her from where he now leaned against the inside of the fence. “Seems he’s more than just a coworker.”

  Not now. She simply couldn’t deal with Nick pulling the jealous ex-husband routine. “Nick!”

  “Well?”

  “Our relationship is not open for discussion.” Yeah, the heat had begun rising in her cheeks. “Seriously. Not. Open. For. Discussion. Matter of fact, why am I still here? You took my statement, so I’ll be leaving. Gabe, you can—”

  “Sit down.” Nick pushed away from the fence.

  “I—”

  “All of you.” He pinned her in his gaze before shifting it to Gabe. “Got that, Romeo?”

  Glaring, Gabe yanked over a metal chair.

  Abigail winced as it scraped across the brick of the patio.

  Nick folded his arms across his chest. “It’s not a good idea to leave, Abigail.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the other detective. “Daryl just heard from our gang banger unit. Word on the street is that someone put out a hit on you two. And MS-13 got the pleasure of doing so.”

  Abigail froze. “What? I thought they were only in Charlotte.”

  Nick dragged over a chair to the bistro table, turned it around, and straddled it. “That doesn’t mean they don’t like to visit. I guess this was important enough for them to do just that. We got the tip something might happen. It just came too late.”

  Late left her witness dead and four in the hospital, including two of Nick’s comrades. Yeah, that put cops in an ornery mood. She shoved her wine away. “We can get a hotel—”

  “No can do. It’s safer to stay with me at my place tonight. You and Marti,” Nick cast a baleful glare at Gabe, “and I guess you too.”

  Gabe kept his gaze on him. “Gee, thanks for the offer.”

  Yeah, this had just gotten even more uncomfortable. “I need to go by the house.”

  Nick refocused on her. “Didn’t
you just hear a word I said? It’s too—”

  “Jonathan told me about some evidence there. If it’s what I think it is, I’ll have enough to draw up a search warrant for Sal’s home, computer, and office.”

  Nick finally broke his gaze. He fished a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lit one. His fingers trembled a little, the only indication the evening had rattled him. As he puffed away, he studied her. He probably was trying to figure out if she was insane or suicidal. “MS-13 hates cops, and if they see you, they’ll gun the lot of you down without hesitation.”

  “Then I go in covertly.”

  At that, Gabe bristled. “Not by yourself, it’s—”

  “Then you go with her, Romeo.” Nick blew a stream of smoke upward. “And I’ll take Marti to my place.” He provided the address. “But soon as you’re done, you’re outta there. Got it?”

  Oh, no worries there. Abigail nodded.

  “You got stuff?”

  “In the Explorer. Two blocks west. Federal plates.”

  “Your gun too?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Then get going. Leave it unlocked, and I’ll get your things. Go on. Time’s a’wasting.”

  Abigail rose.

  Senses on high alert, she stepped through the gate, then into the darkness beyond the Klieg lights.

  Almost immediately, Gabe’s hand pressed warm on her shoulder. His presence comforted her as they made their way the two blocks to where she’d parked her vehicle. As he kept watch, she loaded her gun and slid it into a holster at her side. She added a pair of handcuffs and cable ties for good measure, then turned to him. “Where’s your truck?”

  “One block that way.” He gestured to the right and began walking. “You scared me to death, Abigail. What on earth? Why weren’t you meeting at the station? It would have been safer than—”

  “What is it with you men?” She whirled and faced him, forcing him to stop. “I’m not a helpless fe—”

  “Did I say that?” He put his hands on his hips and blew out a hard breath. “What say we discuss this when we’re not standing in the open air?”

  He had her there.

  Without a word, she turned and marched toward his F-150. Once inside and behind darkened windows, she folded her arms across her chest and stared through the windshield.

  His door clunked closed. For a moment, he sat there with both hands on the wheel. “I care about you, okay? And because I do, when I heard on the news about a shooting at the very restaurant where you were supposed to meet a witness, I got scared. I wanted to see for myself that you were okay.”

  She scrunched her eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

  Warmth covered her right hand.

  With eyes dark and liquid in the dim glow of a streetlight, he gazed at her. “No need to be sorry. Just don’t be so stubborn.” He started the engine. “What’s your plan?”

  It was good to be off the topic of her obstinateness. “This is the way to go.”

  As she explained it, her confidence grew. They could do this. Truly, they could.

  Five minutes later, she slid from the F-150. They made their way along the street that connected Glenwood South, one of the party neighborhoods, to Jonathan’s quieter neighborhood. A ten-minute walk under normal circumstances took half an hour as they checked for tails and ran counter-surveillance. Nothing.

  It made her uneasy, as if they were waiting to cut them down the second she stepped onto the front or back porch.

  From across the street in the darkness between two streetlights, she surveyed the house. Only a lamp glowed in the living room. She knew one did from the master bedroom as well, a product of the automatic light timers Jonathan used when he was away. The porch lights remained on. “Crap.”

  “Does he always leave those on?”

  “Ever since he got kidnapped last year. Not that I blame him.” She smacked her hand against her head. “I guess this means I have to break into my own house—again.”

  “You got a window that’s not lit?”

  “Yeah. The downstairs bathroom. This way.”

  Remaining in the shadows, they scurried across the street and slipped through some holly bushes. She winced as their points poked her. With her fob, she disarmed the alarm. “Give me a leg up.”

  He formed a stirrup with his hands.

  Using the butt of her pistol, Abigail knocked out some glass at the latch, then popped it open and slid up the sash. She slithered inside and settled on the tile floor.

  Gabe joined her. “You might want to call Jonathan later.”

  “Yep. You got that right.” At a crouch, she led the way into the dim living room and up the flight of stairs. She zeroed in on her target, a closet where Jonathan kept his file cabinet and a safe.

  Gabe whistled low when he noted the stout metal box. “He means business.”

  “When he was kidnapped last year, the cops drilled his other one.” She recalled the verses he’d highlighted in the family Bible. Those had been her lifeline when searching for him the previous year—and the key to the combination. Under the red glow of her penlight, she twirled the dial. The bolt clicked back, and the door opened on soundless hinges. She pulled out several folders. “Bingo. Hold these.”

  There at the bottom, lay the object of her search, a file folder holding several pages of her brother’s neat handwriting. She noted the date. 2010. Just like he’d said.

  “What’s that?” Gabe whispered.

  “Jonathan’s story about what happened to the Mighty Men. I—”

  A small noise downstairs stole her voice.

  Gabe shoved everything into the safe. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  She gripped the folder. “I know. If we can get...”

  The steps creaked. So much for the plan she’d begun formulating. No way out. This person probably knew his way around a gun. And if he were smart, his pal waited to bust them as they made their escape.

  Her mind raced. She stared at where she’d placed her keys on the floor.

  Gabe reached up and snagged a heavy glass paperweight from the desk.

  She held her fob up with her thumb on the red panic button.

  He grinned as if he knew what she was thinking. Together, they crept onto the upstairs landing.

  Abigail counted down with the fingers of her left hand. Three. Two. One. She pressed the panic button.

  The alarm began shrieking.

  Without hesitation, Gabe whipped around the banister and hurled the glass orb toward their attacker, who yelped as the paperweight slammed into him. Gun drawn, Gabe followed.

  Abigail charged after him.

  Their attacker lay moaning on the landing at the bottom. She flinched at the tattoos on his face and neck. MS-13. Nick had called it right. She tossed away his gun before cuffing him to the wooden banister at the bottom.

  Gabe made a move toward the front door.

  She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the bathroom where they’d entered. One heave sent the sash upward. She plunged through the opening and fell headlong into the holly bushes. Needles scraped her cheek, her arms. She bit back her cry and plopped into the shrub bed, squashing the annuals Jonathan must have planted a couple of weeks before.

  Gabe leapt over the hedge and executed a perfect roll on the grass.

  Abigail stumbled to her feet and hissed, “This way!”

  A bullet cracked past her ear, and she ducked.

  She grabbed Gabe’s hand and pulled him through the darkness. Her heart hammered in her chest, yet she calmed. She’d grown up on these streets, knew them, and knew how to keep to the shadows as well as lose their attackers. “C’mon. We’re going this way.”

  “We need to get back—”

  Another bullet pierced the windshield of a nearby car. Crap. Their attacker followed.

  They bolted across a one-way street, then another until they reached the state government complex. She veered right into an alcove of the building on the northern end of the quad.


  “Abigail?”

  She yanked open a door. “This leads down into a parking garage, then out the other side. We lose them—”

  “Dang!” Gabe flinched as a bullet nicked the side of a building. “We’ve got to stop them.”

  “Understood.” They descended two flights of stairs and pushed into an alcove leading to the parking garage proper. Abigail’s ears rang as noise from a massive underground fan filled the air. Only a few cars remained, most likely those who had left their vehicles there while out of town. “We’ve got no cover.”

  Gabe surveyed the area. “Yeah, we do. This is what we do. You hide. I’ll take care of him.”

  Abigail scurried toward a couple of cars. Play this one right, and they’d shake their pursuers and package them up for Nick and his crew. Play this one wrong, and she’d be six feet under before she knew it. She darted between columns and cars.

  The door creaked open.

  She paused and crouched behind the wheel of a car. Oh so carefully, she peered underneath.

  Gabe had pressed himself against the concrete wall next to the alcove. He waited, his hand on the butt of his gun, determination on his face, and coiled energy ready to unleash at a moment’s notice.

  Their assailant crept forward, his face, neck, and arms covered in tattoos accentuated by a white T-shirt. He held his gun at ready.

  If they screwed this up, their deaths would be most painful.

  Gabe sprang forward.

  The two men toppled to the ground.

  The man’s gun went flying.

  Gabe’s fist flashed.

  The man drew a knife. A big, nasty knife.

  Her Glock raised, Abigail rushed forward. “Lay a hand on him, and you’re a dead man.”

  The man paused. A snarl crossed his features.

  He gasped as Gabe charged into him.

  Abigail kicked away the knife and backed off. “No more. Got it?”

  Their assailant scrambled to his feet and froze.

  “On your stomach. Hands in front of you. Now,”

  He obeyed.

  Gabe grabbed his set of handcuffs and wrenched the man’s hands behind him. He pulled a cable tie from his pocket and bound his feet. “I think we’ll leave him here for the cops to take care of.” He focused on her. “Let’s go before any more of his buddies show up.”