by Brian Ewing
“Wait, what?!” Ama exclaimed.
Sisto realized he’d slipped, not having explained the origins of how The Reels came to find him. He’d spent years not talking to anyone about that night and now, within seventy-two hours, he’d brought it up with multiple people.
“I’m sorry, I forgot we haven’t talked about that part of my past.”
Taking out a pen from her bag, she scribbled herself a note—for her to look a bit deeper at Fernando Aguilar than Sisto was able to on the web—before she forgot. After jotting down the reminder, she looked up, hoping for an explanation to the statement Sisto had dropped on her.
“Food will be here in a few minutes. Let’s wait till then and I will get into that. It’s a longer story than the one you were about to tell me.”
Agreeing that it was her turn to divulge the minimal information she’d learned before leaving her apartment, she started. “Michael Dyer is a run-of-the-mill businessman. He has worked as a financial advisor for fourteen years for Voyage Care Financial. Has an ex-wife, three kids, lives in the ritzy area of Calming Winds Estates.”
“Financial advisor? Maybe he did something off the books for the Vinnova family?”
Thinking about it, then dismissing it, she said, “It’s possible, but you said these kills were connected to you in some way. This guy doesn’t seem to have any connection to you.”
“Maybe when you are back at your superhero lair, you can see if Dyer has any dealings in New York. Maybe Jackie Vinnova does have his hands in this and is using his resources to make Dyer chauffeur Carson around town?”
She scribbled a note next to the first one and set the paper off to the side.
“The detectives last night, are they like your partners?”
Trying the words on for size, it sounded funny but extremely comforting. “Yeah, I guess you could call them that. I am a consultant, so I get assigned to any case the department sees fit, but Caden and Bell are two of the best and usually get the more difficult cases, which leads them to reluctantly use me as a resource.”
“Reluctantly?” Ama asked surprised. “I would think they are doing backflips having someone like you at their fingertips.”
A light sound, mimicking a fake laugh, escaped Sisto. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? Caden is open to the possibility I am on the level, but Bell being a hundred-and-forty years old, can’t believe I am anything other than lucky or full of shit.”
Just as a smirk came across Ama’s face at Sisto’s descriptions of the trio of justice, Amy appeared with her handy tray. She grabbed the corner of the hot plates, warning both of them, as she placed the meals in front of them, to be careful as her callused hands were no longer affected by the heat from years within the restaurant industry. Both Sisto and Ama thanked Amy, but Amy was already halfway down her section, about to start a drink order for the new table that was just seated moments before. The two started to pick at their food, Sisto feeling Ama’s eyes staring at him. He swallowed the first bite of the crepes; they were amazingly savory with the crisp bacon crumbles and white cheddar cheese sauce. He followed it with a sip of his hazelnut flavored coffee and began to tell Ama about the worst day of his life.
CHAPTER 24
The phone’s tranquil buzzing went off a little after lunch, awakening Sisto from a light food coma. He looked at the illuminated screen with Caden’s name written across it. He swiped the answer button and immediately hit the speaker icon.
“Hello,” Sisto said, trying to fake his alertness.
“You sleeping?” Caden asked.
“Uh, I must have dozed off here on the couch a bit. I was up early.”
“I know it’s a dumb question, but, how are you doing?”
“I am okay, all things considered. Drained, but my mind won’t stop until we get Carson and his partner.”
“Partner?” Caden asked in a surprised tone. “You know something we don’t?”
“I know a lot of things Bell doesn’t, like how to program a contact in your cell phone, how to use the DVR, tons of things.”
“I’ll be sure to relay the well wishes,” Caden answered in code.
Sisto could hear the smile in her tone. “What did you guys find?”
“It was a bust. Coleman’s baby mama hadn’t seen him in months and had no idea what he had been into during that time.”
“You believe her?”
“Based on her living situation, it didn’t look like she had been getting taken care of lately from any of his less than reputable activities.”
“Her place gave your shithole a run for its money,” Bell chimed in.
Shaking his head, something crept up like a lightning strike in Sisto’s brain. “So, let me ask you something. Does mama own a black SUV?”
“No, she drives a mint green Dodge Neon,” Caden answered, confusing him.
“Fuck me,” Sisto countered. “Coleman really hadn’t been slipping any money her way.”
“We are about a half-hour away from you.” Caden’s voice softened. “You need anything, Tom? I mean it. We are here for you.”
“I appreciate it, Detective. I am compartmentalizing best I can. I will definitely need a week to recover after all this, but I am focused and ready to nail this fucker. I did find out a few things. Nothing substantial yet, but working on some leads.”
“You find these leads from your partner in crime, Ms. Navarro from the third floor?”
“Do I detect jealousy in your voice, Camille?”
Not knowing if he’d hit the nail on the head and whether she’d finally came around or was thrown off by him using her first name, which he seldom did, she took a minute to reply. Waiting for her to say anything, Sisto heard a long blaze from a car horn, followed by Bell calling someone a motherless fuck.
“Detective?” Sisto tried again.
“Listen,” Caden proposed, “you want us to pick you up and you can run over what you found out in our little makeshift office?”
“Can’t,” Sisto replied. “I actually got to follow up with my ‘partner in crime’ as you call her to see what else she may have found.”
A slight ping of disappointment echoed in her voice, at least Sisto hoped that’s what he was hearing as she replied, “No problem. If we find out anything useful, I will call you.”
“Listen, Caden. If you are not busy, I know you have a life outside of work, but would you be interested in coming over tonight for dinner and we can go over what Ama found?”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“No.” Sisto fumbled his words. “No, not like that, I mean, I would like a date one of these days, but I figure with what you learned, and what I learned, and I can cook, or, well, I don’t actually have food here, but, I guess we can—”
“Let me know what you find out, Tom. We will do the same,” Caden replied in a professional tone, giving Sisto a sinking feeling of defeat.
“Yeah, no problem. Get back safely.”
She ended the call. Stupid fuck, he thought to himself. There were so many more opportune times he could have or should have asked her out, but he chose to ask during the middle of a case where he was deadpan in the center of it. He may not have gone through the traditional police academy or attended courses or tests to become a detective; however, he’d seen something more in Caden’s eyes last night. Her empathy wasn’t because of his loss, it was because of her care for him. Her touch was soft, and it felt natural being close to her in her departing embrace before leaving last night. He had to shake it off and get back to work.
He looked down at his phone and opened it up to see the date and time, realizing the weekend was flying by and Monday was swiftly approaching. It dawned on him that he’d told Laura Saunders that he would let her know if he could still host the evening support session tomorrow night. He scrolled through his phone and pulled up her contact information. Generating a text conversation, he told her that as of the current moment, he would still be able to show up. Hell, he probably needed the support more than the cir
cle of misfits he would be there to host for tomorrow. After shooting off that confirming message, he backed out to scroll down to the existing conversation he’d recently had with Ama, messaging her to see how things were coming along.
He stood up and before having time to do anything aside from a stretch to release his exhaustion, a buzz came in on the phone he had just sat on the sofa cushion a moment before. Expecting it to be Ama or Laura, it said he had received a text message from Camille Caden.
Caden: 7 PM. Chinese?
Sisto: Absolutely. I can use Grubhub or something and get it delivered
Caden: This is not a date
Sisto: I didn’t say it was
Caden: Just wanted to draw a clear line
Sisto: Consider the line drawn, unless you decide later you want to erase that line
Caden: See you at 7
Sisto perked up a bit. He let The Reels relax in the passenger seat as he calculated on his own accord that things were indeed going in a more personal direction with Caden. It kicked off a series of small, episodic memories and interactions leaning in his favor to support his theory. Working his way back only slightly, to the conversation of her breaking up with Captain Ron, which was only days ago but felt like a lifetime ago, he was sharply interrupted by another buzz on his phone. He must have been daydreaming as he looked and realized that he’d missed two messages. The first one was Laura, thanking him for keeping her informed and telling him she would be in before the session ended so she could lock up. He said it was no big deal but she also said she had been working on something for the members that she thought was going to be a hit with everyone and she was excited to run it past him after the session tomorrow. He cut her short with a simple reply and looked at his other text. He’d missed Ama’s text, which had come in right before Laura’s.
Ama: Hey. I was in the shower. I got some info. You want to come by?
Sisto: You could come up here if you want?
Sisto didn’t want to have an uncomfortable interaction with Ojibwe, as she and everyone else in the building had probably heard about what happened to Craig. Sisto was a very open-minded person but the clarity in how Ojibwe was able to single him out and see his hidden partner, The Reels, kind of freaked him out.
Ama: Ojibwe went to visit her brother on the Reservation, if you were spooked by her.
She read him like a book, even by just looking at his words. To try and save face, he told her he had a meeting with Caden, and Bell, just to make it sound less awkward, and would find out exactly when they were expected. He knew darn well that he had a good five hours before Caden was coming over for their non-date but held off five minutes before replying that coming to her would work and he would be there in a few minutes. He made his way to the fridge and grabbed a half-empty bottle of Gatorade from his dwindling supplies of edible products within the apartment. He would add the electrolyte-filled beverage to his mental shopping list. He chugged the remaining half bottle within ten seconds. Grabbing his jacket off the back of one of the chairs from the kitchen table set, he brought it with him into the bathroom. He grabbed the Febreeze spray from under the sink, set his wallet and wrappers that remained in the pocket from the night before on the sink, and gave it a once over, hanging it on the towel rack to soak in. In addition to the store, Sisto realized that he needed to add laundry to his list. He then made way to go brush his teeth, as the combination of crepes, musty nap-jaw, and Gatorade had to have been an unforgivable scent for any unfortunate soul that would have the bad luck of getting a face full of it. He mouth-washed and brushed and after rinsing his mouth out, he cupped the running cold water in his hands, watching the crystal liquid overflow and run down their sides. He leaned his head to the sink and as he was about to slowly submerge his eyes and face in the water, he noticed the wrappers and trash he had set there moments before. One crumbled piece of paper was blue. He realized that it was the post-it that had taunted him, post haste Craig’s murder. He stood over the porcelain sink in silence and just felt everything drift away a moment as The Reels picked a hell of a time for a viewing.
Sisto was thrown into a memory of someone navigating around late-night traffic on a busy city street. Passing the intersection, Sisto recognized what road he was on. He then heard a foggy voice to his right, speaking in the direction of the owner of the memories that Sisto was invading. The owner of the memories turned to his right—and speaking in the passenger seat was none other than Carson Vinnova. The bulky, fit man had sweat running down his shaved skull and the veins in his forehead and neck were protruding from the intensity of the situation. While Carson’s words were dim and slightly inaudible, Sisto, noticed a bubble of dark liquid from an open wound in Carson’s left shoulder. Holy shit, Sisto acknowledged outside the memory, he had been in the memory of Carson’s accomplice, presumably Michael Dyer.
Only being able to follow the sightline of the holder of the memory, Sisto was praying would Dyer look into one of the vehicle’s mirrors so Sisto could get a glimpse of the man. No such luck, as not only the visual but also the senses during that memory had been gifted from The Reels and Sisto could tell that Dyer was moments away from a full-blown panic attack. Sisto felt the heart within the chest cavity he had borrowed pound like a toddler that accidentally locks themselves in a room and all sensibility escapes, leaving them to scream and cry and pound on the door, waiting for release. Dyer’s eyes went back to Carson, who was still ranting. On the second viewing, Sisto saw Carson had blood splatter misted on his left cheek. Sisto wondered if it had been projection from when he pulled the broken beer bottle out of his shoulder, or whether it was remnants from the diabolical mutilation of his friend and neighbor. Carson released the pressure he kept on his left shoulder and pointed to Dyer to turn left up ahead and hit the freeway.
Sisto felt his throat tighten as Dyer asked, “You said this would be quick and easy. You didn’t say anything about fleeing from a crime.”
Sisto had to focus more intensely to hear Carson’s reply but it was as brief and relentless as he had expected.
“Shut the fuck up and drive. You owed a debt, now the debt is paid. Speak again and we won’t just burn down Sisto’s life, I will make sure you singe in the ashes as well,” Carson gritted past the pain.
The fluorescents from his apartment bathroom flickered, bringing him out of his trance. Hands still over the sink, cupping the cool water, he broke open the clasping of his appendages, letting the gulps of water be sucked down the drain. He turned the sink handle off and grabbed a hand towel from the apartment-issued towel ring to the right of the medicine cabinet. Frustrated at not getting a glimpse of the driver, Sisto put his now odor-free jacket on and grabbed his keys and wallet, making his way to the third floor. Each descending step of the concrete stairwell had been accompanied by questions of what he had witnessed through the accomplice’s eyes. Was it Michael Dyer driving the getaway vehicle? Was it someone else that owed Carson or Jackie Vinnova a favor? They had turned left to go east on the 154 Highway, which could take them anywhere from Rugby Forks or all the way to the southernmost coastline port.
Walking up to the third-floor apartment door, Sisto heard the door unlatch as he was approaching.
“Get in here.” She grabbed his shoulder and dragged him into the apartment, shutting the door and locking it behind her.
“I assume you found something relevant?” Sisto asked while being shoved towards the back room.
“I did, I did,” Ama stated, sounding peppy.
The two walked over to the computer, folding chair already propped open for him, and sat in front of the multi-screened setup.
“Okay. Thrill me.” Sisto tried the Atkins-centric tagline again, and once again fell short of feeling good about it.
The statement caused Ama to stare in slight revolt at him. “Thrill me? Not very original. Every hero needs their own tagline. Not a rip-off from a cheesy eighty’s movie. May as well see how many requests are out there to see your boomstick.”
The two laughed before going back to the task at hand. There was a screen within the screen on the left monitor queued up for them.
“So, are you familiar with a zero-day threat?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” Sisto shakily answered, insinuating he had not a clue what she meant.
“A zero-day threat is a virus created that can’t or just hasn’t been detected by the general anti-virus scanners people have installed on their computers,” she replied.
She paused to make sure he was following her, which he understood to that point, but he wasn’t sure where she was going with the explanation.
“So, I did an extensive search on Dyer and he is a nobody. He literally flies under the radar at work, no social media to speak of, and has fucked up most of his personal life. I was able to go to the Voyage Care Financial website and found a directory.”
“So you found Dyer’s info on the website?” Sisto took a leap.
“No, Dyer is a nobody. Weren’t you listening?” Ama countered. “I just called the support line and used the company directory to leave him a voicemail. I figured a guy with no life and no family was probably immersed in his work and would check his e-mails and voicemails, even on a Sunday.”
He scanned her face and saw as she explained how her face lit up. She was really good at what she did. Sisto was impressed. He let the over-pierced hacker queen continue with her findings.
“He literally got back to me within twenty minutes. I had told him my cousin had dealt with him last year and said if I was ever looking to refinance, to reach out to him. He bought it hook, line, and sinker, and asked for me to send over some information so he could look into it first thing when he was in the office tomorrow.”
“So, you sent him a zero-day threat?”
“Exactly.”
“Sorry, I follow but don’t understand why you want to zero-threat his computer?”
