I walked fast through the building. My shoes squeaked on the tiles in the dark. We couldn’t risk turning on the lights, so it took a little longer than I’d have liked. We both walked upstairs and found a perfect spot where we could see Memorial. I peered out and saw the ‘vette there through a huge window.
“What’s the plan?”
“We watch the car and see who shows up.”
“Smart, I like it.”
“It’ll be standard LEOs at first, but then your department will show up. We can see what they do. They’ll expect us to be far away by then. Nobody stays near a stolen car they’ve dumped. If we’re lucky maybe they’ll call someone else out when the coast clears, and we can see who they’re working with.”
“McCurdy?”
I shook my head. “Doubtful. He won’t want to get his hands dirty. But maybe his guys. We can find out who’s on their payroll at the precinct. It’s a longshot, but any information is better than no information.”
“What do we do in the meantime?”
“Study Sean’s clues.”
Right then a pang of nausea slammed into my stomach. How could I have been so stupid?
27
“I LEFT IT.” I STARED out the window in the direction of the car.
“Left what?”
“The computer. It’s in the ‘vette.” I pointed out the window.
“He’s human after all.”
I couldn’t even get upset with her poking fun at me. She was right. “Can’t believe I did that.” I couldn’t risk going back for it and being seen by someone.
Dwelling on a mistake is wasted time. Sean had told me that in basic training while I stared at a test we’d been graded on. Granted, we’d been pushed past any normal man’s limits of exhaustion and then given the test afterward, but the words had stuck with me for years. They were good advice. Learn from it. Move on. Don’t do it again.
Like every other time I’d recalled the words, he was right. So, I did what he’d said. I moved on and I wouldn’t do it again. Shirley seemed to share the sentiment, even if it was unspoken. I thought if I ever did work with a partner I’d want it to be her.
“What do we know that we can focus on?” she said.
“Keep an eye on the car. Holler if you see anything.”
I wandered off toward a desk. There was a computer on top of it and drawers beneath. It looked like a directory to look up books. A little cup of pens sat on the edge, and there was a printer back behind on its own table. I snagged a pen out of the cup and pulled a sheet of paper from the printer.
The area we were using for the stakeout was like a little reading zone. There were leather arm chairs in rows like an airport terminal only more comfortable. A few small end tables filled the space between them, and a large coffee table sat in the center with magazines fanned out on top in an arc.
Rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves boxed the area in. There was an actual card catalogue with the Dewey Decimal system at the end of one of the rows. It had to be for show with the digital directory on the computer, but the library must’ve been a few decades old to have that in it. It’d been reduced to nothing but decoration and a little vintage ambience, something old replaced by technology. Such was the way of the world.
The library was a nice place. I pictured kids running around and picking out books. There was a large open area in the center with high ceilings. The second level made a U around the bottom floor like a wrap-around balcony. There were stairs up the middle and it was like walking onto a second-floor deck of a cruise ship with a hollow center. Two more sets of staircases on each side sat at the front of the building and they corkscrewed around to each end of the second-floor perimeter.
I made my way back over to Shirley, keeping my footsteps light out of habit, even though the place was empty. She sat there watching the ‘vette like a hawk. She was bent over the railing and looked fantastic in her jeans. She leaned up and straightened, then put her hands on her hips and arched her back. The orange street lights glowed through the window and haloed her hair. She’d taken it down out of the ponytail. It flowed over her shoulders and landed straight down her back.
“Why’d you follow me out?”
She whipped around like she hadn’t heard me creep up on her. I got that look from people sometimes. I took a few steps closer with the pen and paper. “When I left the station? Why’d you follow me?”
“Just a feeling, I guess. Like there was more to the story than what we had. That it couldn’t hurt to dig a little more. I was curious.”
“About me?”
She grinned. “I mean, I thought to myself, what a colossal dick.”
I stared down at my crotch. “Thank you.”
She bit back a smile. “You’re something else.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“But he was your friend and you obviously cared about him. If there was more to it, you deserved to know the truth. And there was a mystery to you. I don’t know how to describe it.” She glanced around. “I don’t know if I would’ve done it if I knew all this was going to happen.”
“Yeah, you would’ve.” I pulled one of the armchairs up to the coffee table and sat the paper in the center.
“What makes you say that?”
“Because despite the mess we’re in, you know we’re right.”
Her eyes flicked up to the ceiling like she was deep in thought.
“There are four types of officers in my experience, Shirley. The first wants a paycheck. It’s just a job for them. The second does it for the excitement and the toys. The third wants the power. They want authority over people.”
“The fourth?”
“The kind that want truth. They want to do the right thing.”
She stared out at the car again.
“It’s why I asked about your sister.”
Her gaze moved back to me.
“To remind you why you do what you do. I needed you to remember that. Sometimes people change from wanting the truth to just wanting the paycheck. They burn out. Sometimes getting the truth is harder work than we want to put in. I needed the fourth. Most of the time the kind of officer who wants to do the right thing has suffered a trauma that guides them to their job.”
“Tell me about your past. How did you end up in the military, CIA, and then a nomad who lives off the land?”
“It’s a long story.”
She fixed her eyes on mine. “We have time. You’ve been on stakeouts before.”
“What makes you think we have a lot of time? I parked the car right there for them to see.”
“You knew it’d blend in with the luxury cars there. People will drive right by thinking it’s some kind of promotion or advertisement. And it’ll make Provost and Harden feel stupid when they see it right out in the open. Like a taunt.”
“You’re a pretty damn good detective.”
“I know.”
“And a humble one.”
She laughed at my deadpan delivery. A genuine, real laugh.
Our eyes met.
“Damn good looking one too.”
Her cheeks flushed with pink hues. “See, I can’t tell if you say things like that to throw me off my game, or if you really mean it.”
“Maybe it’s both.”
“Tell me your story.”
“I will. As soon as I write this stuff down.”
I scribbled out Sean’s clues he’d left. Every detail was ingrained deep in my memory I’d stared at them so long, but it helped writing it out on paper.
FOR SALE!
Multiple items. Antique MCMLiV windmill. Seven 1950s era dolls, all related.
Build-a-bear. Assorted fake Ruby jewelry. Couch with Cushions, OK condition.
$168. No less.
SERIOUS INQUIRIES ONLY!
SUSGOHRYAAESRV
“I was born in Paradise, Kansas. Population less than a hundred. We didn’t even have a school. Went to one in a nearby town.”
“Let me guess. Brilliant
and a jock. Rare combination.”
I shook my head. “Neither, really. Average all around.”
“Why’s it called Paradise?”
“It’s right in the center of the state east to west, but north of I-70, the interstate that runs from Kansas City to Denver. In the 1800s a hunting party found a bunch of water and bison there. Said it was paradise.”
“Makes sense. I love stories like that. History. It reminds me of my dad.”
I didn’t say anything, but secretly thought I loved the same kinds of things.
Shirley kept her eyes glued to the ‘vette but waved me on like continue.
“Not much else to it, really. Normal family. Only child. 9/11 happened when I was in high school. Wanted to do my part. Signed up for the Army. No complaints from my family. Paradise was a patriotic type of place. Bible belt country. GI Bill would pay for a degree if I wanted. I figured why not? After that I became a ranger. They asked if I wanted to try out for Delta. I said sure. CIA came knocking later and wanted me for the Special Activities Division. They recruit heavily from Delta. I said sure, but I don’t think I really knew what I was getting myself into. The whole story sounds exciting, but it’s really not. I didn’t work for those goals my whole life like a lot of people. They just sort of fell into my lap. I was just handed opportunities and took them. Tried not to mess up along the way.”
“Why’d you walk away?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Some of it I can’t talk about. I never really felt like—me. If that makes sense? Found out I didn’t really know who I was, and I did things that bothered me, supposedly under the guise of protecting the country.”
“So now you just wander around and roam in the woods? And hunt for food?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Why?”
“I like it. At first it was just an idea. A challenge to see if I could do it. A way to get in touch with myself, figure out the truth about who I was. It was getting back to the bare essentials, simplicity, survival. I’d never really had any type of spiritual awakening. I wasn’t religious or philosophical. Nothing ever had meaning. I kind of thought about it as a reboot of my life. And I fell in love with it. It’s hard to do. Our ancestors were much stronger than we are. It was a challenge. I realized I like a challenge. Everything had always come easy for me.”
“Am I a challenge?”
I stared up at her hair falling down to her shoulders, orange haze from the street lamps highlighting every strand of dirty blonde, high cheek bones, symmetrical eyes, soft lips, firm breasts, slim hourglass figure, intelligent and caring. She was hard but soft, smooth but rough. You bet your ass she was a challenge—the best kind.
I nodded. “Work hard, play later?”
She grinned. “Deal.”
28
THIRTY MINUTES LATER AND WE were hitting the clues Callahan left in full force.
I paced back and forth and then sat back down, trying to get inside Sean’s mind. “We have to assume everything is relevant here. Sean was ridiculously sharp. Everything means something. Punctuation. Spelling. Everything has a deeper meaning.”
She shuffled a chair up next to mine where she could still peer out the window, but be right up against me. I smelled her coconut shampoo and bodywash again. The pina colada song played in my head. I could still taste the salt on her neck and feel her lips on mine. It was the one downfall to working efficiently with Kristine Shirley—the attraction. You could’ve cut the sexual tension in the air with a knife.
I had to focus. I stared at the ad again.
FOR SALE!
Multiple items. Antique MCMLiV windmill. Seven 1950s era dolls, all related.
Build-a-bear. Assorted fake Ruby jewelry. Couch with Cushions, OK condition.
$168. No less.
SERIOUS INQUIRIES ONLY!
SUSGOHRYAAESRV
“Let’s take it one line at a time,” I said.
Shirley didn’t speak, just nodded.
“Multiple items is a lead in. Probably means multiple clues. Antique MCMLiV windmill. MCMLiV has to be Roman numerals.”
“Do you know how to calculate them?”
“No idea.”
Shirley glanced to check on the ‘vette then leaned toward the clues for a quick moment. “It’s probably a year given the context. After we see who shows up at the car, I can use a public computer downstairs to look it up.”
“Agreed. It has to be a year that’s more than fifty years old. I think that’s what makes something an antique. We need the internet to verify this stuff. Build-a-bear has me spinning circles. No clue what it means. I like to hunt. He knew that. But bear hunting is like, exotic game. Hunt for trophies. I hunt for food. I’ve never even seen a bear in the wild.”
“Do bears represent anything? Like symbols?”
“I think there’s a constellation or something, but Sean wasn’t big on astronomy stuff.”
“I think maybe Alaska has something to do with it. Bear symbols or something?”
“We need the internet.”
“Maybe a book around here has something on it?”
“Internet is faster. Let’s move on.”
“Okay.”
She leaned in close to me, but her eyes kept darting out at the car.
“Nothing?”
“Not yet.”
I could’ve looked for myself, but every time I stared toward the window I ended up looking at her. Leaving was going to be hard when this was all over, if we didn’t end up in prison.
“Assorted fake Ruby jewelry,” she said.
“I don’t know.”
“Ruby is capitalized. It makes me think it’s a proper noun. Not the jewel. That’s in there to disguise it. Ruby is a name. It would make sense given what you’ve told me about him. Maybe it’s a place. Wasn’t there a big siege?”
I nodded. “Ruby Ridge. Militia stuff. I was a kid.”
“You think McCurdy has a militia out there?”
“I think he’s running drugs or growing them somewhere and distributing them. I didn’t see a bunch of rednecks in uniforms. They usually prefer areas more secluded, in the hills or mountains. But we have to stick to these clues. Is there some strain of marijuana called Ruby?”
“I’ve never heard of it if there is. That’s more for the DEA though. Not my field of expertise. I could maybe phone in a favor. I know a guy over there.”
“Let’s see if we can come up with anything else first. I don’t know if I want to call anyone in law enforcement while we’re fugitives. We can look it up later with the—”
“Internet?”
“Yes, smartass.”
She laughed. “I think it has something to do with Ruby Ridge. I think that’s the clue there.”
“Maybe. We’ll have to see.”
“Couch with cushions, OK condition.”
“I have no idea. I’ve played this stuff over and over in my mind.”
“Got something!”
I snapped up out of my chair. Red and blue lights flashed around out into the night sky. They came through the window and danced across the books in the library. We stood there in the dark and watched.
“Took them long enough.”
29
AT FIRST THERE WERE JUST two officers there. Then they grew exponentially, like a scout ant sent a signal back to the ant farm, four then eight then sixteen. They swarmed all over.
“I guess they’re pretty serious about finding us.” Shirley looked back at me.
“They all think we murdered Sean except for the one who gave the order. I’m sure that’s closely held information or what would be the point?”
“That’s Harden’s ride.”
He pulled up in a fairly-new Dodge Charger. It was all black with the red and blue lights flashing from the side mirrors. He stalked around in his same outfit, still looking like a 70s noir detective. Provost showed up not long after. His silvery hair and bald spot gleamed orange. They all stood around the car, searching it thoroughly. I c
ringed when they pulled the laptop out. Starsky had a sly grin plastered across his face, like he finally got one up on me.
He did. I could admit it. But it was my own mistake, not his brilliant detective work. Provost had his hands clenched up into two fists at his sides and was pacing back and forth, barking at everyone. I was sure he wasn’t all that happy it took them so long to find a ’52 Corvette convertible. Especially one hidden next to a main road for everyone to see. All the officers had been relaxed and joking, but they had stiffened the second he pulled up.
A tow truck came and hooked up the ‘vette. I said bye to her in my mind. She was a fine automobile and quite the looker. They hauled it off, most likely to the impound lot. The other police officers rolled out of there. Nobody came our way.
After another half hour or so it was only Starsky and Provost. They stood around chatting.
“This may be good. They’re waiting.” I nudged up next to Shirley and stared through the window. “Both of them are probably on the take.”
Something changed though. Starsky kept staring around. He was a confident, cocky guy. This was the first time I’d seen him look uneasy. He rocked back and forth on his heels and kept looking in all directions.
Just then, the giant truck pulled up. The one with the lift kit. That could only mean one thing—Bear. I didn’t think Starsky could get much stiffer, but he did. The truck pulled into a parking space next to the Charger and the Range Rover that Provost had driven, which was likely his personal vehicle.
“How much does Provost make?”
“Not enough for a Range Rover like that.”
“His wife have money?”
“Stay-at-home mom. I never thought twice about it. Maybe he inherited money or has a side business.”
“Occam’s Razor.”
“Speak English, Savage.”
“The simplest explanation is usually correct. He’s got another revenue stream, likely on someone’s payroll.”
Savage Beast (Max Savage Book 1) Page 13
