by T. K. Lukas
“My God. Unbelievable.” Markus poured another inch of brandy into his glass. “Possibly a message from Winston that he’s trying to silence someone else?”
“What’s your guess?”
“It appears to be an in-your-face message and not a coincidence. But we need to talk to Eli. She didn’t say if the fire was an accident or arson.”
“It’s almost one o’clock. She’s probably sound asleep. I’ll call her first thing in the morning. She didn’t mention Gunner—I hope Trevor’s dog is all right.”
“Me too.” Markus reached for Sidney’s phone. “May I read the email again?”
“Of course.” She handed him her cellphone and then pressed her fingers against the back of her neck, rubbing at the migraine that had threatened her all day but had yet to materialize. “I can’t stop thinking about Aleck…”
“I know—and I’m sorry.” After reading the email twice to look for clues or something he’d missed, Markus got up and walked around behind Sidney. He began massaging her shoulders, his thumbs expertly pressing the spot on her neck where pain radiated upward over her skull.
“Sip your brandy,” he directed. “That and a good old-fashioned massage should get the kinks out.”
Leaning into the pressure from his strong hands, she let his fingers knead away the tension. God, that feels good. She downed the brandy as if it were medicine and then set the empty snifter on the table. Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind as Markus worked his magic on her tight muscles. The low, moaning sounds she made could have been interpreted as a woman experiencing any sort of immense pleasure.
“Are you feeling better?” For several minutes, he kept massaging her shoulders and neck, waiting for a reply. “Sid? Hello?”
She’d fallen fast asleep. Lifting her out of the chair, he carried her to his bed and laid her on top of the comforter. After removing her boots, he covered her with the blanket folded across the foot of the bed.
*****
Markus picked up the S. A. D. file and examined the contents once again. He gave a cursory glance to the nude photos he’d bypassed earlier. He wondered what kind of husband stalks his own wife and takes these kinds of pictures. The sickening psychopath kind. Dangerous—in an evil way. It’s no wonder Trevor’s email contained the caution for me to watch my back, he thought. He’d watch his back, front, and both sides.
Closing the file, he quietly made his way to the wall that concealed his safe-room. He peeked over his shoulder at Sidney, making sure she was still asleep. The form under the blanket hadn’t stirred. After going through the procedure to gain entry, he stepped into the room behind the tapestry.
He booted up his computer and saw an email responding to his earlier inquiry. The phone number Eli had called from traced back to the emergency room at Harris Hospital in Fort Worth. Replying to this new email, Markus asked for information about an arson investigation at the Nolan residence in Fort Worth’s Mistletoe Heights neighborhood, as well as information about the murder of Aleck Stavros. He suggested to his contact that the fire and the murder might be connected, recommending that the appropriate agencies be notified to look closely at Winston Knight as a suspect.
He quickly fed the pages from the S. A. D. folder into the scanner, saving them in an encrypted file. From Sidney’s old cellphone, he downloaded the video of Winston and the audio recording of his verbal threats, saving them to the same file. Attaching the file to his email, he went on to describe Sidney’s situation, how Trevor Nolan had become involved, and that Stavros was Sidney’s attorney. In his gut, he felt certain the two incidents were at the hand of the bastard she was divorcing.
Before sending the email, Markus sat back in his chair and considered the situation in its entirety. Given the damning content of the video, he felt compelled to make an additional request. He wanted a team standing by, ready to descend on Alpine if needed. If Winston was involved in any way with the Río Negro cartel, having well-armed, well-trained backup was imperative. Markus named Moose Erikson to be in charge of the team, with Moose handpicking his desired team members.
After placing the blue-tabbed folder and the cellphone into the bottom drawer of his desk, he locked the drawer, returning the key into its hidden compartment.
When Markus stepped out of the room, prepared to retrace his maneuvers to re-secure the door, he felt he was being watched. Pushing the tapestry farther aside, he looked directly into the wide and questioning eyes of Sidney who was sitting up in the bed.
“I heard a noise. I’m a light sleeper.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“What’s behind the curtain, or door number one?”
“It’s a walk-in closet, basically. Reinforced as a safe-room.”
“A safe-room? Safe from what?”
“From things that don’t concern you.”
“Everything concerns me.”
“Some things you don’t need to know.”
“Who are you, and what do you really do?”
“I’m Markus Yeager. I keep people safe. Now, enough with the questions for tonight, okay?” He offered a tight smile but didn’t wait for her reply.
Sidney watched as he pulled the tapestry across his back in an effort to conceal his movements. She heard a few sounds like someone tapping a hand on a wood panel. A soft swishing like that of someone heaving a deep sigh was the final sound before Markus stepped out from behind the tapestry.
“The same red dragon as what hangs above your entry gate,” observed Sidney.
“The same.”
“What does the writing say? Is that Japanese?”
“Japanese Kanji. It reads, ‘A warrior is worthless unless he rises above others and stands strong in the midst of a storm.’”
“You’re that warrior.”
“I am.” Markus stood rooted in place in front of the tapestry. He wondered how many other questions he’d have to give vague half-answers to. As it turned out, there was only one more.
“I don’t want to be alone. May I sleep in your room tonight?”
“Yes.” No need for a vague, half-answer—this was a no-brainer.
Throughout the remaining hours before dawn, Markus lay in his bed, eyes open, mind racing, watching Sidney flip-flop back and forth before curling up into a tight ball. She murmured in her sleep, unintelligible sounds and mixed up words. When he laid a hand on her shoulder or stroked her hair offering comfort, she jumped as if slapped and jerked away from him. Afraid to be touched. Fearful of what haunted her dreams.
Even in sleep, she’s terrified.
CHAPTER 17
Fort Worth
Still dressed in sooty clothes that smelled of smoke, Trevor sat on the side of his hospital bed. He tapped his foot and pushed the buzzer again to call for a nurse. He had requested to be discharged, his request sounding more like a demand. As he waited, he flexed the fingers of both hands, ignoring the pain. Gritting his teeth, he stretched and contracted them repeatedly, trying to gain a degree of mobility despite the gauze dressings winding around both wrists, covering his blistered palms like fingerless gloves.
As he waited, he ran through in his mind, for what felt like the millionth time, the details he could recall from the fire.
What he remembered from the previous day was climbing into the burning house through a window in his mother’s bedroom. He recalled groping for her purse on the nightstand. Upon locating it, he remembered turning back toward the window just in time to get a fleeting glimpse of Gunner bounding through the opening and disappearing into the sooty grayness that filled the room. Coughing and gagging on the acrid smoke, he had tried calling Gunner’s name, but his words were choked off.
Leaning out the window, he threw the purse as far away from the house as he could manage. He took a deep breath and filled his lungs before dashing into the hallway where flames surged from the ceiling. He knew Gunner was searching for him and would have gone straight to his bedroom.
He crawled on his kn
ees, keeping his body close to the floor. A few feet into his bedroom’s doorway lay his dog’s limp body. Without stopping, he clamped one hand onto the dog’s harness, dragging Gunner to the window.
The panes had been blistering hot. Moving his hands over the scorching glass, he was frantic to locate the lock, but the thick smoke made it impossible to see. His hand found the metal latch, but the old window wouldn’t budge. He removed his T-shirt, wrapped it around his fist, and busted out the glass, punching it over and over to create enough space to escape.
This last scene played again and again in his mind—lifting Gunner’s body and thinking how heavy the dog felt, thinking he couldn’t hold his breath any longer—turning to the window and trying to crawl through while shielding his dog’s body against the shards of glass.
And there his memory went blank.
A nurse too bright and too jaunty for Trevor’s mood poked her head into his room. “Your mother just called the nurse’s station. She said to tell you she’s on her way. And, I’ve relayed your request for discharge to your doctor, but it may be a while before he answers his pager, it being Sunday morning and all. Then again, he may not approve your discharge—it’s awful soon.” She offered this information with a sunny smile.
“Then I’ll discharge myself.”
“Against doctor’s orders, you might have a fight with your insurance company on your hands.”
“I have bigger problems on my hands than worrying about my insurance company.”
Still smiling, she asked, “Can I bring you a breakfast tray? Gray mush they claim is oatmeal? Cold scrambled eggs, burnt toast, and bitter coffee sound good?”
Trevor grinned, despite his gloomy disposition. “I’ll hold out for a Starbucks, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” The nurse’s shoes squeaked her departure.
These fluorescent lights are killing me.
Sensing an imminent headache, his right eye still stinging from the smoke, he reached for his dark shades and slid them into place. Then, a familiar clip-clop of heels lightly striking the floor grew louder. Despite his partial hearing loss, some sounds he always recognized; it was his mother. But, something seemed off. Different. He stood and moved closer to the door, trying to get a better feel for what he was hearing.
Disbelief, followed by immense relief, washed over him as he stepped out into the hallway. “Gunner! Come here, boy.”
Eli released the leash, allowing him to run. The big dog jumped against Trevor, paws on his chest, and the pair fell to the floor. The clanking of metal on tile echoed in the hallway as Trevor’s prosthetic leg banged down noisily against the marble surface.
He buried his face in the soft yellow scruff, letting the tears flow.
“You all right, sir?” The squeaky-shoed nurse reappeared. “Do you need help getting up?”
“I’m fine—I’m fine. Thank you.” Composing himself, he wiped his face with the bottom of his sooty T-shirt that was cut in several places from breaking out his window. Rolling onto his hands and knees, he cued Gunner to move close alongside. Trevor used the dog’s broad back for balance, then pushed himself up and stood.
Eli embraced her son for a long moment. “I could barely keep him from pacing the hotel room last night. He was so eager to be with you.”
“I thought he was dead. I remember lifting him out the window, but I don’t know what happened after that.”
“Sweetie, I told you last night before I left for the hotel that he was fine. You were out of it, though, so it’s no wonder you don’t remember. They gave you some good pain meds so you’d rest.”
“I’m rested enough. I’ve already requested to be discharged. Just waiting on the doc to approve it.” He sniffed the air. “Am I smelling what I think I’m smelling?”
“If you think you’re smelling pumpkin spice latte, then yes.” Eli smiled and led her son back into his room. “I set it on your food cart while you and Gunner were wallowing on the floor.”
“Thanks, Mama.” Trevor gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You bring me my dog and a Starbucks. What did I ever do to deserve you?”
Eli plopped down on the visitor’s chair by the window. “I remember the good old days when my stomach would let me drink coffee… I still love the smell.”
Trevor reached for the coffee on his tray. After removing the lid from his cup, he took a gulp, the creamy foam leaving a small mustache on his lip. “So, fill me in, now that I’m awake and drug free. What happened after I climbed out the window?”
“You never actually made it out of the window. The fire trucks had just arrived, and one of the firemen happened to see you trying to escape. By the time he and another got to you, you had fallen back inside, with Gunner landing across your chest. One fireman crawled in, hefted Gunner out the window, then hauled you out, too.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
“Trevor,” Eli leaned forward in her chair. “I overheard the fireman who lifted you out tell the police he saw several gas cans on the back porch. The fire marshal and a police detective asked me if they belonged to us. When I told them no, those were not our gas cans, it went from a house fire to an arson investigation.” Her eyebrows knitted together in worry.
“Arson? That’s crazy… It’s amazing we got out alive.”
“Yes.” She sighed heavily. “It is amazing you weren’t killed. And what else is amazing is the contraption they strapped on Gunner’s head. While some were giving you oxygen and checking your vitals, another fireman placed what appeared to be a diver’s helmet on your dog. It forced oxygen into his lungs. Then they gave him IV fluids, just like they did you. Those firemen seemed just as jubilant when Gunner came to as when you did.”
“I need to stop by the station later and thank them.”
“On our way to get both of us some new clothes, we’ll do that.” Eli’s attention was drawn to the buzzing sound coming from inside her purse. “It must be your new phone—I don’t recognize the ring tone.” She dug around and pulled it out, handing it to Trevor.
“Yes?” He asked sharply as a greeting, not recognizing the number.
“Trevor, thank God. It’s Sidney. After Eli’s email last night, we were worried sick. How are you? What happened? What fire?”
“Easy—slow down. I’m going to be fine. Nothing major—”
“Sorry to interrupt. Markus is here with me. I’ve got you on speaker phone.”
“Perfect. Hey, Markus.”
“Trevor, how are you, buddy?” Markus’s voice sounded pleasant, but strained.
“I’ve been better. But considering the circumstances, I’m not too bad. Hold on, I’ll put you on speaker, too. Mama’s here.”
Hellos and greetings were passed among the four of them until Markus and Trevor took over the conversation, with Eli and Sidney making an occasional comment.
“I have to ask you, Trevor. Was the fire accidental? Or, do they suspect arson?” Markus got right to the point.
“Interesting you’d ask. The Fire Marshall hasn’t contacted us yet with an official ruling, but Mama overheard a fireman tell the police that he’d seen several cans of accelerant at the scene. It was no accident.”
“Thank God both of you got out. And Gunner—is he…?”
“Hold on.” Trevor gave the command to speak and Gunner responded with a loud bark. “I thought I’d lost him, but thanks to the Fort Worth Fire Department, he’s fine. Just a little smoke inhalation…” His voice broke with those words.
Eli chimed in, asking, “Markus, is there a reason you asked if it was arson?”
“There is a reason,” Markus said, his tone somber. “Did you have the television on last night or this morning? Seen any news?”
“No,” responded Trevor as Eli shook her head. “Why?”
“It’s been on all the channels, both local and national, and it is the headline of this morning’s paper. Aleck Stavros was murdered last night in his office, gangland style.”
“Oh—my—God.” Trevo
r shot an incredulous look at his mother who sat with one hand covering her mouth, the other in a white-knuckle grip on the arm of her chair.
“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Sidney’s divorce attorney was brutally murdered on the same day that the person who facilitated her disappearing act and whose text message was intercepted had his house torched. Do you?”
“No, I don’t. And we can give the police a description of possible suspects.” Trevor filled them in on the thugs in the black sedan who’d paid a call yesterday, and he described the photograph of Sidney he’d been handed. “The emergency text message from her phone to mine was written on the back of an eight by ten glossy of Sidney, along with a personal message from, quote-unquote, her husband. It was a direct threat for me to stay away from her, if I knew what was good for me. I gathered he was acting on the assumption that Sid and I were having an affair.”
“Did Aleck know about that incident?” Markus asked, his voice edgy.
“Yes. I called him after I called the police. He came over right away. In fact, he warned me as he was leaving that his concern was not just about Sidney’s safety. He felt ours was in jeopardy, too. I shot you a quick email before I lay down for a nap. Both Mama and I were exhausted.”
“Fuck. I never got the email,” said Markus. “Sorry, Eli. Pardon the language.”
“No apology necessary,” said Eli. “Go on, Trevor. Tell the rest.”
“I woke up with the house on fire. All I had time to do was grab my cellphone and my wallet, and Gunner, of course. I tried getting to Mama’s room, but the smoke was too intense. So, Gunner and I went out through a window in the next bedroom. Mama was already outside, thank God.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Sidney. “This makes me sick.”
“And then, Trevor went back inside to get my purse,” offered Eli. “Gunner followed him in. I almost lost both of them.” With that, Eli broke down, sobbing.
Trevor moved next to his mother and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “But you didn’t lose us. We’re here. And, we’ll be fine.” He handed her a tissue from the box next to his bed.
