“Got’m! They are stopped on Cave Creek Road. Says it’s 11434 north.”
“Stay close to the phone,” I said and disconnected. I fired the Mustang, went out of the lot, through a red light and roared north on 16th Street.
11
The address was north of Dunlap on Cave Creek Road. The traffic was light. I blew through any lights that came at me. A block away from the address I pulled to the curb, then slowly moved up until we were across from it. The address was a two-story building. It was long and rectangular. The upper half had an outside balcony with a railing. There were no indications as to what the second story was used for. The bottom half was a gun shop. The steps to the second floor were on the outside, at the other end of the building. The building didn’t face the street but was at a ninety-degree angle. The building faced east with an asphalt parking lot stretching out in front of it. On the other side of the parking lot, at the back of the lot, there was another two-story building, same as the first. Except it faced the street. In front of it was a small free-standing building that advertised it sold vintage clothing.
The parking lot was empty. No SUV. The place looked deserted. I called Jimmy.
He answered on the first ring. “You still see your phone on Cave Creek Road?”
“Yeah, it’s just sitting there.”
“There isn’t anyone here,” I said.
“That phone is,” he said. I disconnected.
Indigo leaned forward, her elbows on the backs of our seats.
“Doesn’t look like a sex den,” she said. “Of course, neither of you bozos know what a sex den would look like.”
I looked at Blackhawk. He was studying the property across from us. He looked grim.
“Cambodia,” I said.
He didn’t seem to have heard me. Then he said, “Yeah, Cambodia. That was a sex den.”
“How come I missed all the good ops,” Indigo said.
Behind the gun shop was a street that paralleled it and disappeared up a steep incline.
“Let’s take a look,” I said. I turned the wheel and with a small U-turn, I pulled across Cave Creek and up the incline. I went past the building and pulled over. I popped the trunk and we climbed out. The light of the trunk lid revealed a metal box with keypad styled buttons on it. I pushed the buttons in a particular order and the lid to the box popped open.
“Why don’t you just put a neon sign out,” Indigo said, looking at the trunk light.
“I’m retired,” I said. “I’m just an ordinary citizen now,” I said as I pulled out the Kahr .45 and the Mossberg 500 Tactical shotgun. I handed the shotgun to Blackhawk, and then a box of shells. He filled his jacket pocket. Indigo pulled her Beretta as I racked a shell into the Kahr.
The back of the building was dark, in fact the whole block was dark and empty. I pointed to our left. “You two take that side, I’ll go around the street side.”
“That’s where the light is,” Indigo said.
“You can do it if you want.”
She smiled. “No, I’m good.” She patted Blackhawk on the shoulder, “Come on Chief, let’s go find your girl.”
Blackhawk turned without a word and started into the darkness. I turned, and moving close to the building, I worked my way to the corner. The only light was coming from the street-light across the street. I went around the corner, feeling exposed, and moved cautiously toward the parking lot. If I got caught here the only cover was two decorative boulders that were too small for me to hide behind.
When I reached the corner, I hesitated. Nothing moved. The very occasional car drove past. The thought that they might call the cops crossed my mind. Probably not. Not in this neighborhood. I stood listening. Sometimes you just know a building is empty. But you don’t want to stake your life on it. I went slowly around the corner and crouched under a barred window. I cautiously looked inside. It was dark, the window was dirty, and I couldn’t see anything. Sometimes you see movement rather than an actual something. I saw nothing. Across the lot, I saw Blackhawk move to the building. He crouched by the stairway that led upstairs. He started up. Now I saw Indigo by the dumpster. She was just a dark form. I could tell by her silhouette that she was covering Blackhawk.
I stepped away from the building and pointed the Kahr up at the upstairs landing. Blackhawk moved to the door. I waited for him to wave Indigo up, but he didn’t. He kicked the door in and went inside. Indigo burst away from the dumpster and ran up the stairs two at a time.
I ran out into the parking lot, trying to cover the whole building with one pistol. Indigo went through the door, Beretta ready. I stood waiting. Nothing moved; all I heard was my own breathing.
After what seemed like forever, Indigo came back out on the landing. She gave me a thumbs down. She started down and Blackhawk came out and followed her. They came over to me. In the faint glow of the streetlight from across the street Blackhawk’s face was impassive but I knew he was disappointed.
I walked toward them, and my prosthetic foot kicked something. I looked down.
It was a phone. Dark in the night, against the dark asphalt. I picked it up and thumbed it on. A selfie of Jimmy stared at me.
“It’s a trap!” I said.
12
They came out from behind the vintage clothing building, firing. Blackhawk, Indigo and I scattered in three different directions. Like quail. This was training. Bunch together and a bunch gets shot. Scatter individually and it will lower the number of casualties. But these guys weren’t as coordinated as we were. They were both shooting at me.
The stairs were closer than where I had come from. I skidded around the corner and went to ground hard, behind the stair. Their bullets were chewing up the stucco. I thought of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. “What’s wrong with those guys?” I looked at those guys: they were behind the dumpster.
I crawled back to the corner and from ground level, I peered back around the corner, the Kahr in my left hand so I could fire without exposing myself. We had been taught both hands. Spent a lot of time on the range shooting lefty. These guys were blowing up everything in sight. Raking the building and across the lot, punching holes into the dumpster. Automatic rifles empower a man. Makes him feel invincible. But like every weapon, they only hold so many rounds. The idiots both went empty at the same time.
They kicked their magazines out and were trying to jam in new ones when Indigo stepped out and started firing. I couldn’t see Blackhawk, but I heard the boom of the Mossberg from the other side of the dumpster. He was probably too far away to do damage, but the sound was scary.
Indigo emptied her clip at them, and the guy closest to me went down. The other guy turned and bolted across the street. There were two small dark buildings across from us. The compound was surrounded by a fence with circles of razor wire at the top. Work trucks were parked inside. East of this was a two-story building. It only had a chain across the driveway, but no fence. This is what the guy was running towards. I opened fire, but it would have required enormous luck to hit a moving target at this distance. I didn’t have the luck. He ran the length of the building and disappeared into the dark of the far side.
I stood and cautiously moved toward the fallen man. He was alive. He was moaning. I reached him at the same time a black SUV came roaring out from behind the building across the street. It ripped north. No way to get to the Mustang and catch it. Indigo and Blackhawk came up beside me. Indigo and I were reloading. You always reload.
Blackhawk squatted down beside the guy. The guy was gasping, blood bubbling out of his mouth.
“Sucking chest wound,” Indigo said. She didn’t sound very sympathetic.
Blackhawk looked at me. “Guy’s still conscious.” He turned back to the guy. “Where is Luis and the girls?”
I could tell by the look in the guy’s eyes he was defiant. His eyes flitted from Blackhawk to Indigo and back.
I squatted down on the other side of the guy. I reached out and pinched his nose. He was struggling to breat
he, blood bubbling out of his mouth.
“You picked a bad area to get shot. This is all industrial. There isn’t anyone here. No one to call the cops. There are gangs up and down this area. If someone did hear something, they’re not going to stick their nose into it.” I released his nose. “So, the choice I have is we walk away and someone finds your body in the morning, or you tell me what I want to know, and I’ll call an ambulance.”
Right on cue, Indigo said, “He ain’t worth it. Let’s leave him and chase that SUV.”
The guy’s eyes went to Indigo. Men aren’t used to a woman being cold hearted. I could have told him about the Blackfeet Indians who turned their prisoners over to the women. Blackhawk was impatient, he stepped on the man’s chest and pushed down on the wound.
“Where are Luis and the women?”
The guy made a strangling noise in his throat and his eyes rolled back in his head. Blackhawk stepped back. The guy had his eyes scrunched shut. When he opened them again, I moved over him, making sure he was looking at me. “You see, what my friend is trying to point out is that we don’t have to leave you to die. We can do it right here.”
“Where are Luis and the women?” Blackhawk said. “Last chance.”
The guy was really struggling for breath. I didn’t think he was going to last long enough.
Finally, he struggled something out I didn’t understand. I looked at Indigo.
“I think he said something about Union Hills.”
It was a street north up the road. I tapped his chest and made him groan. “What else? Where on Union Hills?”
“Cave Creek,” he bubbled.
“Come on,” Blackhawk said, turning.
Indigo and I followed. We got to the Mustang and I handed Jimmy’s phone to Indigo as she climbed into the back seat.
I slid into the driver’s seat. “Call 911. You heard gun shots in the 11,000 block of north Cave Creek.”
“You’re just a softy,” she said, and made the call. I didn’t wait for Blackhawk to buckle up. As soon as the door shut I just ripped around the corner and out onto Cave Creek Road. As I raced by, I glanced at the guy lying flat in the parking lot. He wasn’t moving.
As I drove I tried to remember what was on the corner of Cave Creek and Union Hills. Then I remembered. Oh yeah, that. That makes sense.
13
“The Candy Factory,” I said.
“You have a sweet tooth?” Indigo said, leaning up between us.
“It’s a strip club,” I said. “It’s at the corner of Union Hills and Cave Creek.”
“I didn’t take you for a titties and beer kinda guy,” Indigo said.
I ignored her. Blackhawk was staring straight ahead. He had the shotgun between his knees. He awkwardly turned it around and fed shells into it. When it was loaded he pulled his Sig Sauer from his hip holster and dropped the magazine out of it. He racked the shell out of the chamber. Deftly caught it in mid-air and fed the shell back into the magazine. He snapped the magazine into place. He racked the shell into the chamber. He was going to war.
Cave Creek Road was quietly coming awake. The light was gradually seeping from the eastern horizon. There is something about a sunrise that makes the world feel it is fresh and new and is birthing new life. As I drove, the streets became slowly busier. The gas stations were filling with work trucks and worker drones in bright yellow and orange work shirts. They began their day at first light. These were the workers that made their living doing the things most people wouldn’t do. Mowing and trimming, manual labor construction work, and city road maintenance. The gas stations of my youth had long since evolved into mini restaurants, that made more money on coffee, fountain drinks, cigarettes, and ready-made sandwiches than on gasoline. Instead of filling their water jugs at home, the workers found it easier to buy their water at the gas station oasis. I wonder what my grandfather would have thought of buying water.
I pushed our speed, with one eye out for the night shift patrolman that still lurked along the main thoroughfares. Just on the north side of Bell Road, Cave Creek Road quickly turns from three lanes to two. I got caught behind a landscape rig, a beat-up truck pulling a high sided trailer. In no hurry to get to their first job. A pick-up with flats of tile in it blocked me from the other lane.
Blackhawk zipped his window down and it startled me. For a brief moment I thought he was going to lean out and start shooting. I guess he just wanted the fresh air.
I finally got around the rig and ran the light at Grovers. The Candy Factory was on the northeast corner up ahead. We were coming up on the southeast corner, where there was an all-night Walgreens. I bounced into the Walgreens lot and pulled into a space that faced the strip club across the street. There were two vehicles in the lot. They were illuminated by photo cell activated pole lamps and the burgeoning sunlight. Neither was the SUV.
“Couple of the ole’ boys got too drunk to drive home,” Indigo said.
I nodded. “That’s not our guys.”
“What now?” Indigo said.
I studied the building. My gut said it was empty. The front door sported a canopy, like the up-scale hotels near Broadway in New York. I guess they thought it made the place look elegant. All they needed was a doorman. The east side had a handicap ramp up to a single door. Behind the ramp was a fenced area, probably for the garbage bins. The west side was facing Cave Creek Road.
“Strike hard, strike fast,” Blackhawk said.
“My gut says there’s no one home. The SUV isn’t here.”
I looked at Blackhawk, and he looked at me. “We look,” he said.
“Indigo,” I said, “you cover the front door. Blackhawk, you go right, I’ll go left.”
“That’s where the street light is,” Indigo said.
“You can do it if you want,” I said.
“No thanks hero, I’ll pass,” she said with a smile.
I backed the Mustang up and turned around. I went back out the entrance, hit the accelerator and ripped across the intersection. I didn’t even notice if the light was green. With squealing tires, I pulled into the strip club entrance and jammed the brakes to end up directly in front of the canopy. Any closer and I would have knocked it down. I jammed the Mustang into park and bailed out my door, Blackhawk bailed out his. As I went around the building I glanced back. Indigo was behind the Mustang, arms extended, her Beretta resting on the roof, pointing at the door.
My side of the building was bright from the street-lights. The wall was blank. No doors, no windows. I rushed to the corner and peered around it. There were no lights here, just the ambient light of the street. Down at Blackhawk’s end there was the fenced area for the garbage dumpster. I waited a second for Blackhawk to show, but he didn’t. I went to his corner and looked around. Blackhawk had the big lid of the dumpster up and was looking inside. I joined him.
Inside was a body. It was a girl. It was Nikki and she was dead.
While he held the lid, I reached inside and felt the pulse in her neck, just to make sure. Nothing.
Indigo had joined us. “Poor kid,” she said quietly.
“There’s an outside door,” Blackhawk said, gently letting the lid down. He turned and went up the ramp to the door. We followed. Nothing to be done about Nikki. This door had a knob with a lock. The easiest kind to break into. It took Blackhawk less than thirty seconds.
We went in ready, but we all knew the place would be empty. It smelled of cheap perfume and spilled beer. There was an undercurrent of marijuana. It was sad, dark, and empty. Men came here came looking for something, wanting something. They always left without it.
Despite the gloom we moved swiftly. If, by chance, there was someone inside they already knew we were coming. Blackhawk moved left, I moved right. Indigo hung back. When nothing happened she came in, moving to the middle of the room. Right inside the door Indigo said, “Hey, what’s this?” She leaned down and picked something off the floor. I couldn’t see what she was holding. Blackhawk moved over and took it from her
hand.
“It’s Elena’s bracelet,” he said.
“She dropped it on purpose,” I said.
Blackhawk put it in his pocket. We went back outside.
“They still have Elena,” Blackhawk said. “Or they’d have done them both here.”
We walked around to the Mustang.
“What now?” Blackhawk said as we climbed in.
I thought about it.
“This Luis guy probably has places like this all over town. When the guy in the SUV warned them, they took off to another one. Leaving Nikki in the dumpster.”
“Why not both of them?” Indigo said. “Why not Elena too? You think she’s still alive?”
I looked at Blackhawk. He had a look I’d never seen before. It wasn’t pretty. “Because I want to believe it,” I said. “And because I’ll bet she has told Luis that if something happens to her, Blackhawk and I will spend the rest of our lives hunting him down.” I glanced at Indigo in the rear-view mirror. “And if Luis is smart, I’ll bet he has figured out that Elena is valuable and worth something to trade.”
“So where do we look?” Blackhawk said.
I started the engine. “The 101 is three-quarters of a mile up the road. Let’s jet back to the bar and see what Jimmy and his buddy have come up with from Luis’s tablet.”
“What about Nikki?” Indigo said.
“She’s gone,” Blackhawk said. “Nothing we can do for her.”
“They put her in the dumpster on purpose,” I said. “I’d bet money that garbage pick-up is today. Once a body gets to a landfill, it’s never found.”
“Goddammit!” Blackhawk said. “He’s a dead man.”
I started toward the street, “Yeah, I know that, and you know that, but he doesn’t know that. He still thinks he’s in charge.”
“Tick tock,” Blackhawk said.
I pulled out of the lot and ran toward the 101.
14
We were upstairs. Bill Brown had left, Jimmy was on the couch in Blackhawk’s office and Simone had cried herself to sleep in the spare apartment bedroom. Nacho had sprawled on the living room floor, hugging a couch pillow and was sound asleep.
They Called Her Indigo Page 5
