The Lion's Mouth

by Brian Christopher Shea

  Rusty’s eyes widened in disbelief, the shock of a seasoned lawman that had seen the resulting devastation of a crash like this. “She walked away from that?”

  “Unbelievable, isn’t it? This girl has one hell of a guardian angel,” Nick said to the pair.

  “You’ve got that right. Hopefully it will be enough to keep her safe until we find her,” Jones said, staring back at the wreckage.

  Rusty looked over at Nick. “Do you want to run the track with me?”

  “I’ll do my best to keep up,” Nick said, modestly.

  “Anaya and I will follow in the Jetta. Windows up and air on,” Jones said, laughing at his own joke.

  “Acclimate, my friend,” Nick retorted, as he broke into a light jog behind Rusty with Jasper at the helm.

  Cain stood in front of the Gold’s Gym located along a small strip of businesses. He was not dressed in workout attire. The patrons entering and exiting the establishment wearing tank tops and shorts gave him wearisome glances as they passed.

  His Range Rover was parked several rows away from where he stood. He wore rip-stop cargo pants and a lightweight button-up polo. The untucked shirt concealed his weaponry, but he wasn’t concerned if they were seen. This was Texas and the open-carry law enabled him to display a firearm without a second glance from most of the citizenry.

  He watched the Heathen as she meandered about the parking lot of the hotel. She was small. But evil comes in all sizes. In times like these he reminded himself to think of the snake in the Garden of Eden and how it forever changed man. And now, great men like the Pastor were forced to fix the devil’s doing.

  The Heathen was ducked low between a couple of parked cars as if tying her shoe. She’d been holding in that position for several minutes. Cain watched intently, trying to understand what she was up to. Then it became clear.

  A person passed by her wheeling a small suitcase. The guest slid his key into the slot by the door and went in through the side entrance of the Holiday Inn. The Heathen stood and followed, moving quickly to catch the door just before closing. Tricky girl.

  The hallway of the Holiday Inn was thirty degrees cooler than outside. To Mouse, it was as if she’d walked into a meat locker. She shivered as her body adjusted to the variance. Tiny goosebumps prickled along her skin. The man whom she’d followed in never turned around. His indifference meant he didn’t notice her.

  To be small is a gift. Use it to your advantage, her father had said to her.

  She navigated the hallway until she saw her opportunity. A maid’s bin was parked outside a room on the right side of the hallway. It wasn’t long before a heavy-set dark-skinned woman strutted out of the propped open door. She wore a uniform shirt with the hotel’s moniker embroidered above her ample breasts. The uniform’s material worked hard to contain her large frame, like a dam holding back a reservoir’s water.

  The worker grabbed two new trash bags and re-entered the room. Mouse moved quickly. She walked by the door and peered in as she passed. The maid was bent over in the corner with her large backside to the door. Mouse peeked in and noticed that all of the bathroom towels had been replaced and the area tidied. Confident that the maid had finished in the bathroom, Mouse slipped inside.

  Mouse scampered into the modest bathroom, climbing into the white porcelain tub. The shower curtain was heavy and to her advantage, not transparent. Laying down, she slowly drew the curtain closed. The cheap plastic hooks slid across the metallic bar until she was satisfied her small frame was covered by the heavy plastic.

  She waited. The heavy maid hummed a tune. The sound of it reminded Mouse of her mother when she used to hang the laundry from the line outside their small house, humming and smiling away the labors. Mouse closed her eyes and listened contentedly, allowing a momentary peace to replace the frantic morning.

  The bathroom light clicked off. The door to the hallway closed, and with it so did the lyrical hum of the cleaning lady. Mouse slumped deeper into the tub, allowing the coolness of its surface to caress her hot skin.

  In the cramped space of the tub, with her backpack still on, Mouse drifted off into the deepest sleep she’d had in weeks.

  Chapter 24

  The door clicked, and a flicker of green indicated that the key card had disengaged the lock. The handle pressed down and the seal released with a suction sound. The room was dark, but the sunlight fought through the pulled blinds, providing enough light to guide his entry.

  He moved heel-to-toe across the carpet into the bedroom. The sheets were undisturbed. Standing in the silence, a faint sound trickled out from the bathroom. Snoring? He moved quickly but carefully, ensuring that he would limit her surprise. No need for screams.

  She hadn’t heard the door open, but something caused her to wake. How long was I out? Impossible to tell in the confines of the tub.

  Someone was in the room. No doubt about it. No lights were turned on. Not a guest. Not a maid. Mouse exhaled slowly, adjusting her eyes to the dark. She needed to get the gun. It was still resting at the bottom of her backpack. She gingerly slipped free her shoulder, working hard not to bang against the tub. Every movement she made seemed to be amplified a thousand times by the tub’s porcelain basin.

  Mouse’s lower lip quivered as she tugged at the zipper, moving its teeth down the side of the backpack a few grooves at a time. Her fingers trembled. She was mad at herself for falling asleep. She’d let her guard down and now she was at a disadvantage. The footsteps on the tile floor of the bathroom startled her.

  Abandoning her effort to move silently, she yanked at the zipper and shoved her hand deep into the bag’s opening. Her small fingers finding purchase of the rough grip of the pistol as the curtain whipped away, exposing her curled figure.

  “Mouse?” the tall man said, his voice firm but kind.

  She looked up at him. Her right hand gripped around the butt of the gun, but she hesitated in removing it. The mention of her name had derailed her train of thought and her hand remained buried in the bag.

  “Mouse? That’s what Anaya said to call you. Are you okay?” Nick asked.

  He noted that she was aptly named. Half-tucked in the empty tub, she looked so small. Delicate. But her eyes were not. She stared at him intensely and he could tell that she was rapidly assessing him.

  Mouse nodded. Hand still in the backpack, unflinching.

  “Clear. She’s in here. In the bathroom,” Nick called out, turning his head slightly but not looking away from the girl, afraid that if he took his eyes off her for an instant that she would disappear.

  “My goodness, you had me worried,” Anaya said, appearing behind Nick’s broad shoulders.

  Mouse transitioned her focus to the social worker and released her grip, letting the gun settle back to the bottom of the sack submerged under the pile of PowerBars.

  “Let me help you up,” Anaya Patel said, edging her way around the FBI agent’s chiseled frame.

  She placed her left hand on the center of his back as she passed him. She felt the taut muscles of the agent and was distracted for a fleeting moment by the contact.

  “I’ll step out and give you two a moment,” Nick said, knowing that most girls in Mouse’s circumstance did not usually take to interactions with adult males. No telling the trauma in her past and he didn’t want to add to it.

  “Mouse, you had me so worried,” Anaya said. She didn’t admonish the child and continued without awaiting a response from the girl, “Why did you leave? I only want to help you.”

  “You can’t.” Mouse’s tone was flat.

  This is bad. The police have found the Heathen first. The Pastor would be angry at his failings. Hopefully, he would allow him the opportunity to redeem himself.

  Cain pulled out a small folding pocket knife as he walked back to the Range Rover. The handle, made of a white bone, seemed brighter in the late afternoon sun. It was etched with the Pastor’s words, Only with God’s Hand can evil be cut out.

  Cain rolled his sleeve past his
elbow and dug the blade into his thick bicep. The release of blood gave him peace, and he could feel his pulse rate slow. The droplets rolled down the tanned flesh of his arm and fell to the dry earth at his feet. Cain squinted, casting an intense gaze as the small Heathen exited the hotel and entered the rear door of a Volkswagen.

  They passed without ever looking in his direction. He remained unseen. The Pastor told Cain that he’d been given a shroud of invisibility. Heathens could not bear witness to the Hand of God.

  Only in those moments of terror had he ever revealed himself. The Heathen’s time was coming and she would soon know his face.

  Chapter 25

  “Hi,” Nick said, answering his phone. He couldn’t allow it to go unanswered again.

  He slapped his hand against his head and rolled his eyes. After several months without speaking to her, Hi was all he could muster? Epic failure.

  “It’s been a while. Everything all right?” Izzy asked. The impatience clearly etched in her voice stemmed from an equal combination of anger and worry.

  “Yeah. I’m fine,” Nick mumbled. Oh, this is painful. Why can’t I talk to the one person I trusted above all others?

  “How’s your mom? Is she adjusting to her new surroundings?”

  “It’s touch and go. They moved her to a more isolated section due to some recent outbursts,” Nick said.

  He felt a lump in his throat. He hadn’t spoken about his mother to anyone lately. He didn’t have anyone out West that he felt close enough with to share that side of his life. Izzy had been that person and he’d effectively cut her out.

  “Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry,” Izzy said.

  Nick was silent. He knew that if he spoke he might fall apart. A man not comfortable with outwardly expressing his emotions, he fought back against the whirlwind of feelings. He hung back from the others, leaning against the trunk of his Jetta as Jones and Anaya accompanied the small girl through the doors of the Child Protective Services headquarters. The heat off the car’s black exterior caused him to pop up immediately. He drifted over to the shade provided by a cluster of small trees.

  “What’s new with you?” Nick said, directing the conversation away from the emotional landmine of his mother’s condition.

  “Not much. Same old stuff here.” There was a smile in her voice. “I saw Deck a while back. He’s good. I think he’s having fun kicking in doors and hunting bad guys.”

  “It’s what he does best,” Nick said, with a chuckle.

  “He told me that you two talked earlier,” Izzy said, pausing long enough to prepare for her next question, “What’s going on with you?”

  “What do you mean? I can’t just call an old friend and say hello?”

  He knew he’d just opened himself up to an onslaught from Izzy, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

  “Call an old friend, huh? How about me, Nick? Ever think of picking up the damn phone and calling me?” Izzy snapped.

  Normally she was the epitome of calm and so the anger in her voice caught him off guard. But he knew she had a right to feel that way. That night together in the hotel room still replayed in his dreams. Hearing her voice now, only tormented him further. It’d been the reason that he’d broken off communication months ago.

  “Sorry,” Nick muttered. There was so much he wanted to say but he held back.

  “That’s the best you can do? Sorry?” Izzy was breathing heavily through the phone as she added, “I was there for you. Always had been. I thought we had something real. Maybe something lasting. Then, out of the blue, you up and leave.”

  “I know. I just…” Nick fumbled with the words.

  “You don’t know shit! I waited. Months I waited. And nothing. No call. Not even a weak-ass text message. Nothing!” Izzy unloaded. Her words were spoken through gritted teeth.

  “You’re right. It was a shitty thing. You didn’t deserve it. You deserve better,” Nick said, softly.

  “That’s the first thing you’ve got right so far. And that’s what I decided, too! I moved on. Hard as it was. But I moved on!” Izzy’s initial assault had passed, and her voice began to soften again.

  Nick felt sick to his stomach. It had been seven months since he’d left Connecticut. Since he’d left Izzy. And he hadn’t made one attempt to contact her over the last three. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d taken out his phone and stared at her number multiple times a day since their last conversation, but he never made the call.

  “Is there anything you want to say to me?” Izzy asked.

  Her frustration returned with his silence.

  “I’m not sure what to say,” Nick said.

  “Then I’m not going to be the one to tell you. It doesn’t work that way.”

  Izzy had walled herself up again, shielding her heart from Nick’s inability to commit. She delivered the final blow. “His name is Bill and he’s a good man.”

  “Bureau guy?” Nick asked.

  He was woozy at the thought of another man touching Izzy.

  “No way. Never again. You were my first and last in that department,” Izzy said.

  Her edginess dissipated slowly with a sigh.

  “Met him at the rehab facility when I was recovering from my ankle injury. Which, by the way, is much better. Thanks for asking.”

  Nick realized he hadn’t checked on her. The last time they talked she was still on light duty and using a cane to assist her mobility. She’d saved his life and he’d failed to look in on her recovery.

  He made a meager offering, “I suck. What can I say?”

  “Water under the bridge,” Izzy responded.

  “I wish I could go back and do things over, ya know? Do things right,” Nick said.

  “That’s not why I called. I’m not calling to rehash our failed relationship,” Izzy said.

  “Why then?” Nick asked, embarrassed by the direction this conversation had taken.

  “Declan called me. He was concerned. Thought maybe I’d have better luck figuring out what’s going on with you,” Izzy said.

  Her voice returned to normal. The hostility seemed to have vanished as quickly as it had come. Like an afternoon rainstorm in the summer.

  “But I didn’t say anything,” Nick said.

  “It wasn’t anything you said. More how you said it.”

  “Hmm. He’s a good read of people,” Nick said.

  “So, what’s the deal?” Izzy said.

  Nick could tell that her patience at this game of cat and mouse was waning.

  “Nothing. Just a case I’m working. Bad one. I guess none of these crimes are ever good, but this feels worse. Bigger,” Nick said.

  He thought back to the girls in the motel. The small child by the graffiti wall. And Mouse.

  “You sound shook. What can we do to help?” Izzy asked.

  Nick pulled the phone away from his ear. He was blown away by his old partner’s willingness to help, especially after he’d left her when she’d needed him most. Now she was ready to jump in and help. Isabella Martinez was the definition of loyal.

  “Nick, are you still with me?”

  “Sorry. Yes. I’m good. I’ve got this. Didn’t mean to spook you guys. I was just a little overwhelmed. Nothing I can’t handle,” Nick said, regaining his composure.

  “Well, if that changes then you know how to reach me,” Izzy said.

  Her voice was flat. The disappointment was evident.

  “Yeah, I know. Thanks for looking out,” Nick said and then added, “Good luck with Bill. I hope things work out.”

  Nick wished he could’ve stuffed a sock in his mouth. Why the hell would he wish her well with another guy?

  “Okay,” Izzy muttered, awkwardly.

  The quiet that followed was only seconds, but to Nick it was an eternity.

  “Take care of yourself,” Izzy said, dejected.

  The phone call ended with a click. Nick pocketed the phone and walked into the main lobby. The cool air of the building’s interior did lit
tle to ebb his burning desire to undo that last conversation.

  Chapter 26

  “Thank God for Rusty and Jasper!” Jones said.

  He was smiling as he sat on the corner of Anaya’s desk. His ample rump came close to knocking over the green reading lamp that cast its subdued light on the stack of precariously balanced files.

  “That’s for sure,” Nick said, rejoining the group. “I never noticed before, but your desk might be as bad as his.”

  Nick looked at Anaya while thumbing in the direction of Jones. A big grin formed on his face.

  “Great minds think alike, buddy,” Jones laughed.

  An ease settled over the group as the return of the girl gave hope to a seemingly desperate investigation. The girl sat slumped in the wooden chair positioned directly in front of the desk. Her toes stretched, touching the floor as she nervously swiveled the seat from side to side. Her arms were folded and her head was down. Mouse looked as if she were sitting in front of the principal with her parents standing in judgment. Although, Anaya’s delicate face and deep dark eyes held none of the trademark signs of the school administrators that Nick had faced during his adolescence. If the situation wasn’t so serious, it would’ve made a great Norman Rockwell moment.

  “What am I going to do with you?” Anaya said.

  She was kind but not weak in her presentation to the child. An undercurrent of firmness resonated in her voice.

  Mouse peered up at the social worker through her straight black hair that was flopped over her face. It was as if she were peering from behind a dark veil. Even under the web of hair, Mouse’s eyes shone brightly. Nick saw the spark. It’s probably what’s kept her alive through this ordeal. There was a fire inside of this girl. A natural toughness.

  “I can’t protect you if you keep disappearing,” Anaya said, filling the void created by the unresponsive child.

  “Who’s the guy in the car?” Jones interjected.

  The drawl was back but his tone easygoing. Not the gruffness he used on the street.