Fatal Memories

by Tanya Stowe

  She rose from the table and went to the fridge. It was dusk, way past dinner, and she was hungry. The meatloaf from Hank’s wife filled the fridge with a tantalizing smell, so she put a plate of it in the microwave. When the food was hot, she pulled it out, opened the back door and leaned against the jamb to eat the meatloaf.

  The sinking sun in the west was beautiful...a gigantic fireball casting an orange light through the clouds left over from the storm. They too looked like they were on fire. The whole sky was aflame.

  The evening air was still hot. Her skin tingled from the transition of the cold air-conditioning to the heat, but still it felt good, comfortable, like she’d done it many times before. She was settling into her life again.

  She finished eating and closed the door. Right after she placed the dishes in the sink and began to wash them, she heard a car engine grumble and gravel crunch.

  Chekowski was here. Wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, she hurried to the front door. Before she could reach it, the handle moved back and forth, almost without a sound. She halted in her footsteps.

  Why was Chekowski trying the handle? Why didn’t he knock or call out her name? His stealthy behavior made her pulse pound. Maybe it wasn’t Chekowski!

  She rushed to the door as silently as possible and flattened herself against the wall. The handle didn’t budge, so a heavy tread crossed the wooden porch, toward the large picture window in front of the dining room table. A shadow fell across the table...a big, bulky shadow that somehow looked familiar.

  Definitely Chekowski. She recognized his shadow from the day they had been ambushed. But why was he skulking around? Why didn’t he make himself known? It was almost as if he were trying to catch her unaware, as if he were expecting her to give him trouble.

  Something wasn’t right. The shadow moved around the corner, toward the back door.

  Did she lock it?

  She stared at the door. If she’d forgotten to flip the lock, he’d get inside.

  Was she being paranoid? Hadn’t he helped to defend her at her brother’s apartment?

  Until she knew what was behind his stealthy behavior, she wasn’t ready to face him. She needed to keep out of sight until she could figure out why her senses were jangling like live wires.

  But where could she hide? Her mind raced over the rooms of the house. There were no secret corners or locked closets.

  The barn. Maybe she could make it to the barn.

  As quietly as possible, she flipped the old-fashioned lock on the front door and turned the handle. It opened without a sound. Sliding out, she closed it behind her. Still no sound.

  She ran across the porch, on tiptoes, and down the steps. Even the gravel seemed to cooperate and hardly made a whisper as she ran to the barn.

  The horses nickered when they saw her. She glanced over her shoulder. The kitchen door must have been unlocked, because there was still no sign of Chekowski. He had to be inside, searching the house, and still hadn’t called out for her. What was his game?

  Inside the barn a ladder led to a small alcove where bales of hay were stacked three high. She might be able to squeeze between the wall and the stack.

  She scurried up the ladder, feeling her heart pounding. The hay smelled dusty and moldy. The bales must have been stacked when Dylan’s family lived on the ranch. The rotting smell made her nose tickle and she sneezed.

  Freezing, she listened for the sound of footsteps outside the barn.

  Hearing nothing, she scooted along the outer edge of the loft. Her foot slipped. She grabbed at the top bale. The loose hay gave way. Joss nearly tipped over the edge of the eight-foot drop. Beneath her the horses shifted nervously and banged against their stalls.

  At last the top bale snagged and held. Joss wavered but finally got her balance. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the pile and sighed in relief.

  The front door of the house opened, jolting her into action again. She wiggled between the wall and the bales. Dust and pieces of straw filtered to the ground, silhouetted in the last streams of daylight. The horses shifted again.

  If she hoped to stay hidden, she needed to stop moving and creating dust.

  The bottom bale was all the way against the wall. No way could she make room for her feet. But the second bale was inches away from the wall. Flattening herself, she slid into the slight opening. There was enough room for her to crouch.

  Gravel crunched outside. Chekowski was coming. Joss held her breath and closed her eyes.

  Please, God. Don’t let more straw fall. If it does, he’ll look up and see my hiding place.

  Seconds of painful silence passed. Joss had to release her breath in a slow, controlled whisper. Her thighs burned from crouching. Blood pounded in her ears. It was all she could do not to gasp. Her nose tickled and she felt a sneeze coming on. She pressed her fingers to her nose and squeezed.

  The door opened. She heard footsteps cross the floor. The horses shuffled again. Why was Chekowski so silent? His furtive manner hadn’t changed, and her nerves still danced like loose wires.

  Had he seen her? Was he even now climbing the ladder, preparing to poke over the top and order her out?

  Clothing rustled. Then the muffled sound of a phone ringing. A voice on the other end answered.

  “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here but there’s no sign of her.” She recognized Chekowski’s low rumble. Was he contacting Holmquist or Dylan? Should she step out and let him know she was all right?

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure it’s the right place. But it’s deserted. No one’s here.”

  The voice on the other end of the phone said something in response, but Joss couldn’t make out the words.

  “I’m telling you, she’s not here. I’ve searched everywhere...even the barn. Maybe she got scared and took off.”

  Garbled words on the other end. “How do I know where she went?”

  Joss was about to call out, to let him know she was all right. His next words stopped her cold.

  “Of course I was careful. I came in silently, because I wanted to get a jump on her. For all I know she has a weapon now and knows how to use it. I’m not gonna get myself killed for you.”

  More garbled yelling from the phone.

  “I don’t have to take that. She’s not where Holmquist said she’d be, so I’m heading back. If you don’t like it...too bad.”

  Cold washed through her.

  Chekowski cursed. “Don’t threaten me, you little...”

  He was interrupted by shouting from the other end of the phone.

  “I’ve done my part. You want more from me, you’re gonna have to come up with more money.” He punched the phone and cut off the furious-sounding voice.

  Chekowski was the traitor. The gang had been paying him money to keep them informed.

  Shocked, Joss’s fingers slipped from her nose. Immediately a sneeze escaped, exploded across the silent barn.

  “What the...?”

  Caught! She had to move, do something.

  Placing her back against the wall, she pushed the bale. The outer, molded edges of the bale fell away in a dusty flow. But thankfully the center had more substance. She shoved hard against the bulk.

  It flew down. Chekowski cried out and raised an arm to block the remnants of the hay bale. But it hit his head, knocking him to the ground.

  Move! Go now!

  Joss leaped to her feet and clambered down the ladder. She slipped. Her feet missed the final two rungs. Splinters slid into her hands as she gripped the sides of the wooden ladder, but she managed to keep her feet as she hit the ground.

  Unfortunately the hay had only deterred Chekowski for a moment. He rose. Hatless and covered in hay, he looked like a nightmarish scarecrow rising from the straw-scattered floor. He’d lost his gun somewhere in the pile.

  She spun for the door. Bellowing his rage, Chekow
ski lunged and grasped her ankle. She landed flat on her chest and gasped, the wind knocked out of her.

  Catching her breath, she glanced over her shoulder. He’d risen to his feet, still gripping her ankle with both hands while he dragged his foot through the hay, searching for his dropped weapon.

  She turned over, facedown, and clawed at the ground, trying to get away, but Chekowski was too strong. He hauled her backward. If he found his gun...

  Looking over her shoulder again, she spied the horses’ bridles looped on the corral. If she could reach them...

  After rolling to her right side, she pushed herself up and twisted her body at the same time. Her loose leg swung high and wide. Her foot struck Chekowski on the jaw with a glancing blow, just enough for him to momentarily release her other ankle. She squirmed sideways to the corral and jerked one of the bridles down.

  Chekowski recovered quickly and snatched at her again, but Joss swung the bridle around like a whip. The end with the metal bit struck him on the side of the head, and he dropped like a sack of cement...straight onto her legs.

  Bending her knees, she squirmed out from beneath his heavy body and kicked free. Then she crawled to his side and secured his hands with his own handcuffs. On her knees, Joss slid her hands through the hay, searching for the gun.

  She heard running feet. Did Chekowski have an accomplice?

  Her fingers latched on to the cool metal. She grasped it and spun, landing flat on her bottom, with her legs splayed out in front of her and the weapon pointed at the barn door.

  It creaked open slowly. Joss’s heart pounded. Holmquist peeked out from the edge.

  “Joss! What...?”

  She sagged and dropped the gun. He ran toward her and helped her to her feet. She threw her arms around him.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No. I’m all right.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Chekowski is the leak. The gang is paying him for information.” She shook her head. “I should have remembered, seen the connection. The day we left my apartment, Chekowski said he was texting his supervisor to keep him informed. But later he used the radio on his shoulder to call for backup.”

  “Standard procedure on a special assignment like that, Joss.”

  He missed the point and she shook her head. “No, not standard. Why did he text his supervisor when he could have used the radio?”

  Holmquist’s face reflected his understanding. “Of course. He didn’t text his supervisor. He contacted the gang so they could be waiting to ambush you at your brother’s apartment.”

  “And he knows that Dylan moved up Lena Jones’s transfer to tonight. You have to warn them.”

  Holmquist reached for his phone, then paused. “If Chekowski knows everything, then the gang knows your location. We have to get you away from here.”

  She shook her head. “I was hiding. I heard him speak to someone from the gang and tell them I wasn’t here. My location is safe for now. Call Dylan. Warn him. The gang knows about the transfer.”

  * * *

  Lights flashed past Dylan on the freeway. He was only twenty minutes out of Tucson. He’d contacted Gonzalez and told him to prep Lena Jones but not to inform the team.

  Everything was in place. He’d coordinated with a new team. This one came from Phoenix. They were on their way to the Tucson hotel to pick up Lena. Her new flight out of Phoenix airport didn’t leave until late tomorrow morning. But Dylan didn’t want to take a chance on her staying in Tucson, so he found a new hotel outside the Phoenix airport.

  Only Holmquist, Gonzalez and the Phoenix team knew about the change of plans. Dylan would inform the rest of the team when he arrived.

  By now Chekowski should be with Joss. Everything should go smoothly. By acting quickly he was certain they’d fooled the Serpientes.

  His phone buzzed. “Murphy.”

  Holmquist’s voice echoed through the phone. “I’m here with Joss. Chekowski is the informer.”

  Several thoughts washed through Dylan’s mind so fast, he couldn’t put words together. When he finally got control, they came out in a jumble. “What? How? Is Joss safe?”

  The officer’s voice was soothing. “Take it easy. She managed to subdue him. A pretty good piece of officer work, if I say so myself.”

  Dylan didn’t miss the pride in the older man’s voice. He’d always known Holmquist felt an almost-paternal affection for Joss. Dylan had resented it before, thought it was getting in the way of his investigation. But now he was thankful the man cared so much.

  “Joss heard Chekowski talking to someone from the gang. She thinks it might have been Vibora. Whoever it was, they know you are moving Lena Jones tonight.”

  Chekowski was the informer. It made sense. Dylan should have known...should have seen it. A major mistake. Now Joss and the transfer were both compromised. How much time did they have?

  Dylan looked at the clock on his dash. “When did he talk to Vibora?”

  “About twenty minutes ago. Just long enough for Joss to toss a pile of hay on his head and cuff him.”

  It almost sounded like Holmquist wanted to chuckle, but the circumstances were too dire. He didn’t pause. “Even if the gang knows the plan, they haven’t had much time to mobilize. Our best bet is to get Lena and her family out of there immediately.”

  “I agree. I’m minutes from her hotel. We’ll put the plan in action the second I get there. Hopefully we’ll beat the gang.”

  “As soon as I hang up, I’ll send reinforcements to your location.”

  “Thanks.” Dylan clicked off the phone and hit the gas pedal. Speed was of the essence. He dialed Gonzalez. When his agent picked up the phone, Dylan was terse. “I’ll be there in five. Have Lena and her family ready. We’re moving immediately.”

  “Aren’t we going to wait for the transport from Phoenix?”

  “They’re still en route and the Serpientes know our plans. Our only safety is in moving fast. Be ready. You’ll drive them all the way to Phoenix.”

  “Maybe you should take them.”

  “I’ve got to get to Joss. She’s already had to fend off Chekowski.”

  “Fend off? Did he attack her?”

  “I’ll fill you in when I get there. Just get Lena ready. Gonzalez...be on the alert. The Serpientes have beat us to the punch almost every time we’ve moved.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  He clicked off. Dylan threw his phone onto the passenger seat and sped through a yellow light. He was only blocks away, and he wasn’t wasting time.

  He pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. Lights blazed from the large paned windows of the lobby, and he eased his SUV as close to the door as he could, bumping over a cement border. He picked up his phone, pulled his gun and stepped out of the vehicle in one swift move.

  He was parked less than seven feet from the entrance. A policeman and a hotel employee came running toward him at the same time. The employee reached him first.

  “I’m sorry, sir. You simply can’t park there.”

  He pulled out his badge. “Get all of your employees out of the lobby, to a safe location. We have word that gang members are on their way.”

  The young man looked around as if he wasn’t sure what to do. The policeman running up behind him heard Dylan’s command.

  “Move, buddy. This place is about to light up.”

  Dylan gave the officer a look of thanks. He was older, close to Chekowski’s age. Probably came up through the ranks with the traitor. Were they friends?

  Dylan’s jaw clenched. “How many of you are here?”

  “Five, all stationed around the parking lot.”

  Dylan nodded. “No offense but I need you and your men to move away. Gather them up and head for the perimeter.”

  “You’re calling us off?”

  “Yeah. You can tha
nk Chekowski. He told the gang about my witness.”

  The policeman sagged and shook his head. “That guy has always been trouble.”

  “Maybe. But I can’t be sure I can trust any of you.”

  “I’ll watch your back. If any of my officers turn, I’ll take care of it.”

  Dylan gave the man a curt nod as he moved toward the elevator, calling the other agent.

  “Gonzalez. I’m downstairs. Let’s start the transfer.”

  “Got it.”

  Gonzalez knew the drill. The guards would clear the hallway upstairs. Then they’d lead Lena and her family out of the apartment and into the elevator. He waited, his gaze fixed on the lights above the elevator door.

  He tensed as the numbers hit...three...two...one. The doors opened. Lena Jones was huddled in a corner with her arms around her four-year-old son. An older woman, obviously her mother, stood to one side and slightly behind her daughter.

  Gonzalez was the first out. Dylan handed him his car keys. Gonzalez tossed the keys to his car.

  “You’ll need transportation to Joss.” He didn’t pause as he headed toward Dylan’s parked vehicle. Lena Jones started out of the elevator, but Dylan held up his hand.

  “Wait until he’s in the car and situated.”

  The frightened woman picked up her child and grasped the arm of the older woman. Gonzalez started the ignition. Dylan motioned the women on. His men formed a barrier between the family and the hotel windows.

  Just as they reached the car doors, Dylan heard a shout. He looked toward the parking lot and saw the group of policemen crouching down behind parked cars, facing the freeway on-ramp above them. Gunfire lit up the dark sky.

  Dylan spun and shouted, “Move it!”

  Lena had already stepped into the vehicle with her son. The older woman was having a hard time climbing up, so Dylan helped her into the car.