I held my hands up. “Look—” I made a show of staring at his name tag. “Brian. You probably make what? Minimum wage?”
His head bobbed up and down.
I stared at his waist line. There was nothing there, not even pepper spray or a taser.
“Do you really want to risk your life because some rich guy paid you like eight bucks an hour to watch his car for him? Does that sound like a good business proposition to you?”
His head shook back and forth.
“See, you’re a smart guy, Brian. So, what I need you to do is take a walk around the block. Walk real slow. By the time you get back, I’ll be gone. If you get fired, well, there’s no place to go but up. If you don’t, no harm done, right? It’s simple math and opportunity cost.”
Brian stared at me and seemed to rethink his entire life. He looked around, then back at the car. His eyes flicked over to me. “I-I-I think I’m just gonna go take a walk. Nice meeting you, Mister.”
“Great to meet you too, Brian. Have a great evening, sir.”
He turned with a catatonic look on his face and waddled toward the front.
“Leave that flashlight on the ground if you would.”
He stopped and set it down in the middle of the garage, then walked out the front and made a right turn.
I climbed back under the car and grinned while I held the wires out. I liked Brian. He was a good kid. He thought about things and weighed his options and made the right choice. You had to appreciate someone who analyzed a situation like that. More people should live like Brian.
“C’mon.” I tapped the wires together and they sparked. The engine roared to life under the hood, and I twisted the wires together. “All right, then.” I got up in the driver’s seat, adjusted it to a comfortable position, and lined up the mirrors. Once I reversed out, I shifted into first. I popped the clutch and shot out onto 4th Street with the smells of downtown Tulsa and the cool breeze of nightfall in my face.
25
I TOSSED BRIAN A HEAD nod when I flew by on the one-way street. He took a huge swig of a blue Classic Cola bottle and waved back with his free hand like he had a new life ahead of him. Shirley wasn’t quite as impressed when I rumbled up to the building where she’d hid and flashed the headlights.
She stomped over to the curb. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“It was all they had. Get in.”
“I’m not riding in that. It might as well be a billboard with our faces on it.”
“We need to get away from here. Then we’ll get rid of it. It was unavoidable.”
She climbed in. I dumped the clutch and hauled ass. I cruised south on Elgin to 8th Street and made a left at the light. We rocketed past the orange lights of a Home Depot and merged onto Highway 51 heading eastbound. Shirley said people in the city called it the Broken Arrow Expressway.
I drove the speed limit, a steady sixty-five, as we snaked out of downtown and headed southeast through the heart of the city. I really wanted to open the Corvette up and see what it could do, but I knew better. I thought the ‘52 had an inline-six engine. I couldn’t remember. It was so small and light it felt like I was racing on the Le Mans circuit.
The day had finally cooled after the sun fell over the western horizon and the wind felt incredible. I must’ve been smiling as I took in the fresh air.
I caught Shirley staring at me out of the corner of her eye.
“How can you be so calm?”
I shrugged.
“I’m serious. I’m good at keeping my cool, but even I’m freaking out on the inside right now. How do you do it?”
“Been in worse situations. How will freaking out help us?”
She didn’t appear convinced.
My eyes rolled over to hers for a quick second. “It’s hard to make someone worry when they have nothing to lose.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what can they take from me? I’m basically a free grazer. A nomad. I don’t have physical possessions that can’t be replaced. They can throw me in jail. I’ll kick the biggest guy’s ass the first day and get free clothes, three meals a day, and a gym to work out in. The only thing they can threaten me with is you, and you’re with me. So why should I be worried?”
She leaned her seat back and stared out at the passing lights. Her hand slid over the top of mine on the gear shift.
“You’re trying to change this place. Aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?” she said.
“Your precinct. The detective division. The world. The universe. Trying to make it a better place. That’s why you’re afraid of losing your job. Isn’t it?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Your sister’s case was never solved, was it?”
Her hand squeezed around mine. “I don’t.” She paused, collecting herself. “No.”
I didn’t say anything.
After a few moments, she said, “How do you do that? Figure everything out so easily?”
“I pay attention. Talk less, listen more.”
“Is that what you did in the Army?”
I took the next exit. Memorial Drive. It looked familiar and I remembered there being hotels. I’d been down it when I rode the bus out of downtown to the ATM. We’d been on the highway too long and I didn’t like it. There would be highway patrol along with the cops watching for us.
I shook my head at Shirley. “After. Delta Force is a counter-terrorism outfit. We were trained in all areas, but I was mainly a sniper and reconnaissance. We did mostly hostage rescue, counter-terrorism, and executive protection detail.”
“What’d you do after Delta?”
“It’s classified.”
Her hand slid off mine and she folded her arms over her chest. I immediately wanted her hand back on me. She stared out at her city, her mind somewhere else. She cared about the place. Sean cared about it. I cared about them, so there I was. We passed car lots, everywhere. Volvo and Audi and Honda. Some guys named Jim Norton and Don Carlton owned a lot of cars there. Their names were all over the signs. Large showroom floors lit up bright in the night with rows and rows of new and used automobiles.
I didn’t know where I was going. Not having a definitive plan bothered me. At the same time driving around with a good woman in a fast convertible muscle car was nice, if only it were under different circumstances.
“CIA.”
Shirley flinched and turned to me. “Did I hear that right?”
I nodded and at the same time said, “You didn’t hear anything.”
“Why’d you leave?”
“Lots of reasons. I didn’t like what I was doing, and I didn’t really know who I was anymore, not that I ever really did.”
“Is that why you’re so interested in the story behind everything? Because you’re not really sure of your own?”
“Maybe.”
“God, you’re so cryptic. Did you leave on good terms?”
“They were good for me.”
We exchanged glances a few times and pulled up to a stoplight. The street signs read 51st Street and Memorial Drive.
Shirley shrugged off my response but looked at me differently. Sean was the only other person in the world who knew what I did after the Army. Nobody was supposed to know. It felt right telling her, though. We were the only two people in Tulsa that could trust one another. It was us against the world. I liked those odds.
“Makes sense, I guess. Now I don’t feel so bad about you always seeming one step ahead of everything.”
“What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“With your sister?”
“She went to a concert. I was supposed to go with her, but I had a test. She went by herself. Never came home. Never found a body. No witnesses, nothing. It was just like she disappeared.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Case went cold. There was never really anything to go on. It happens sometimes, you know?”
I nod
ded. “Who was the band?”
“What?”
“The band she went to see?”
Shirley glanced down at her Foo Fighters shirt. It told me all I needed to know.
I punched the gas when the light turned green and headed farther south. “We need to get rid of this car and hole up somewhere.”
“Like where?”
“Someplace quiet with internet, where we can think.”
“I have an idea.”
26
“TELL ME WHERE TO GO.” I was still heading south on Memorial. The street numbers got larger the farther south we went. 51st then 61st then 71st. It seemed right at about a mile between them. That made each block about a tenth of a mile. 62nd Street was one block south of 61st Street.
“We need to get rid of it somewhere away from where we end up, right?”
She was smart. I nodded. Then I changed my mind. Not about her being smart, but about where I wanted to leave the car.
“What’s near the place you want to go?”
“There’s a huge Porsche dealership right in front of it.”
“Perfect. Does Jim Norton own it too?”
She shook her head with a smile. “No, I think it’s Jackie Cooper.”
“That works.”
“It’s just past 91st and Memorial.”
I looked at the street signs. We were at 65th Street, a little under three miles to go.
Our hair continued to whip in the wind. We moved past most of the car dealerships and passed multiple apartment complexes. I knew we’d come up on Woodland Hills mall on the left soon. Everything looked familiar from the bus ride, but darkness had fallen on the town. Cities transformed into new creatures at night. It didn’t matter where you went. Some changed for the better, some for the worse.
Woodland Hills mall flew by on the left and came to an uneventful intersection at 81st and Memorial. Almost everything was apartments except a couple of strip malls.
A squad car cruised up next to us at the light and came to a halt on our right. I said nothing to Shirley. I didn’t want to startle her and draw attention.
She noticed.
We both stared straight ahead, breathing normal, faces indifferent. It was a fruitless effort. I knew it. She knew it. We’d been there too long. He would look over any second. I should’ve stayed on the highway. The highway was a better choice than getting pinned down, but we couldn’t do anything about it now without drawing attention.
The cop looked over. I saw him glance back and forth and it took a split-second for his brain to compute.
“Hold on to something.”
Shirley rolled her eyes over to me. The green arrows went both ways for left turns, and cars veered through the intersection in quarter circles. There was a straggler across the way, someone texting. It created a gap. I timed it just right. I saw the cop reach for his radio, so I dumped the clutch and hammered the gas. A cloud of smoke billowed from the tires. They gripped the pavement and we lurched forward. We just missed the tail bumper of the car that went ahead of us. The Corvette shot right between it and the straggler. Lights flared up in the rear-view mirror, flashing blue and red, sirens blaring. The straggler car had thrown on their brakes and stopped to avoid ramming into us. It halted right in front of the police cruiser.
It was only going to buy us a couple seconds, but it was something. The squad car swerved out around them and took off after us. I ran through the gears like a hot knife through butter. The Corvette was great for cruising but even better at racing.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Keeping us out of jail.” I glanced over at her. “And away from our hideout.”
We flew past 91st and Memorial. There was a highway overpass up ahead.
“That’s the Creek Turnpike. It turns into Highway 169 if you head east. It wraps around and runs north to south.”
“Part of the loop?”
“Exactly.”
I spotted Jackie Cooper Imports on the left. Don Carlton, Jim Norton, and Jackie Cooper seemed to have a monopoly on the auto trade in Tulsa. Orange street lamps lit up the road on both sides. They flashed by overhead, faster and faster as I accelerated. I whipped an S maneuver around two different cars. The police weren’t far behind. There would be more of them in a hurry, maybe even a helicopter soon.
I glanced to see what was behind Jackie Cooper Imports. It was a large building and the sign read HARDESTY REGIONAL LIBRARY. “Good idea. We need to lead them away from it for now, though. Do you know the neighborhoods around here?”
She shook her head while gripping the center console. “No, I don’t come out this way often.”
It made sense. I wasn’t wild about speeding through a neighborhood, anyway. Kids shouldn’t have been playing at that hour, but who knew? It wasn’t worth the risk.
I let the squad car get up closer, almost on our rear.
“You’ll really want to hold on now.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Something stupid or heroic. Time will tell.”
I downshifted into second gear before Shirley could respond. We were doing fifty in a forty. The squad car was right on my ass, damn near kissing the bumper. I couldn’t hear what they were hollering through the loudspeaker over the Corvette’s screaming engine. We were coming up on the Creek Turnpike overpass. There was a pair of stoplights on the north and south sides of the bridge. One for getting on the highway. One for exiting. There was no traffic underneath. The light had just cleared everyone out and was still glowing green. The gods were in our favor.
The officer in the squad car was one of the worst drivers I’d ever seen. He was right on our tail, maybe twenty feet back at most.
I accelerated toward the bridge. Got up to 50 and then 60. The guy following matched our speed, staying right up on us. We flew under the bridge and I yanked the wheel hard left and slammed on the brakes. The squeal of burning rubber on the asphalt amplified a thousand times under the bridge. My chest squeezed tight, partially from the amount of force put on my body, and partly from the sound. It was the same sound you usually heard right before a massive car collision when someone slammed on their brakes and plowed into someone else, only we weren’t hitting anyone. The coast was clear. We fishtailed sideways through the intersection and slid perfectly toward the road we needed, asphalt chewing rubber as we Tokyo-drifted around the corner and across the lanes for oncoming traffic at a forty-five degree angle to the on ramp. The Corvette was the perfect car for the maneuver—low to the ground, perfect center of gravity. Physics sucked the car down harder. Everything turned calm and serene like it was in slow motion. I was completely focused, waiting for the exact moment. If I let up off the brake too soon, I’d put us into the wall of the bridge. If I did it too late, we’d hammer a light pole or flip sideways onto the median.
Shirley’s sandy hair flapped in the wind and her mouth was wide open belting out a scream. I waited until we were perfectly lined up with the on ramp to the highway and released the brake. I dropped down a gear and floored it. The rear end of the of the ‘vette rocked left and right, and then the rear tires gripped the pavement. We rocketed forward, straight up the ramp and onto the highway like a scene out of a Steve McQueen movie. I blew out a huge breath and my chest rose and fell in giant waves. I belted out a roar and pumped my fist, an amphetamine-like rush in my veins.
Blue and red lights flashed by to our rear, straight through the intersection, and I heard tires squeal. By the time they’d turned around, we were already exiting on a road called Mingo. I turned off right and drove at a normal speed, cruising down Mingo to 101st Street. I made a right and looped the long way back toward Memorial. I was satisfied they were gone, but by now the entire TPD probably knew what kind of car we were in. I drove us the mile west on 101st back to Memorial to make a perfect square. Shirley checked to the right and I looked left. Neither of us saw police lights. They’d turned around and chased back up the highway. By then we could’ve hit two different exi
ts and gone any direction or stayed on the highway. There were nine different choices. They were in our dust.
I glanced over, and Shirley’s knuckles were pale white. Her fingers clawed into the handle on the door, hands trembling. “Oh. My. God.” Her words came out on a huge exhale.
“Pretty good, huh?”
“Learn that in Delta?” The whites of her eyes were two wide Os and engulfed her irises.
I shook my head. “Inspired by Top Gun. Perfected in youth.”
She stared blankly.
“I’ll hit the brakes? They’ll fly right by us? Maverick?”
She slow-nodded. “Oh, I got the reference, Savage.”
I grinned and pulled back through the light at the overpass, admiring my perfect tread marks on the pavement. We cruised under the bridge and turned right onto a side road that snaked around Jackie Cooper and up to the library. I dropped Shirley off.
“I’m going to go get rid of this thing.”
She nodded, eyes still wide. “Good idea.”
“Was fun though.” I waggled my eyebrows.
She shook her head and walked toward a huge granite statue of stacked books. I pulled away and drove up onto the grass in front of Jackie Cooper Imports, and parked the ‘vette like it was on display next to a Porsche 911 Turbo and a Cayenne. After that, I high-tailed it back to the library. It wasn’t far. A few hundred yards at most.
I met Shirley out front. She’d settled down a little, and her breathing was back to normal. The moon was directly overhead and full through a haze of orange street lamps and parking lot lights from the dealership.
“How do we get in?”
“You have a bobby pin?”
“Always.” She fished around in her pocket and came up with one.
I shook my head. “Women always have one somewhere.”
“Indeed we do.”
I walked up to the front door. There was no alarm, just a lock. I guessed people didn’t steal books from libraries when they could check them out during the day. I picked it in under a minute. It was a little slow for me without my lock kit, but it worked.
Savage Beast (Max Savage Book 1) Page 12
