by Tom Howard
“Got it.” Wyatt said as he closed his phone to hang up. He opened the e-mail for a quick read and saw a photo of Michelle he had to see to believe. It was a mug shot from when she was younger – she had so much rage in her eyes, her hair was a mess, and her face had been bruised. It was clear something traumatic had happened. As he continued to read, he found everything Sergeant Lewis said was clearly stated on the report from fifteen years ago. Not only that, but there was a full list of other priors from burglary to assault and battery with a baseball bat. Wyatt was having a hard time believing what was right in front of him and wouldn’t have if he hadn’t seen the signature on the report from a trusted friend and fellow officer who retired five years ago. Wyatt knew him well and knew he was an honest man, if his name was on the report, there was no mistake.
Wyatt felt his heart sink and a knot form in the pit of his stomach. If even a fraction of that report were true, what did Damon really want with her? It’s not like anyone would believe anything she said after reading what she had done, especially with a professional diagnosis of being mentally ill. Then again, some psychotic people can appear the most normal until something sets them off or they become tempted into an act of violence. However, it wasn’t in Damon’s nature to take chances…if Michelle saw something she wasn’t supposed to, she was as good as dead anyway.
He didn’t want to believe the sweet angel sitting across from him was capable of those things, but at the same time, he also couldn’t deny or ignore the evidence, which led him to wonder…was her amnesia genuine? Or was it all an act in attempt to avoid more time in Shuttermore? If fake, there were much better ways to go about running. What would possibly be keeping her in town? And why would she stay mixed up with a cop? Whatever the case, the new information definitely raised more questions than answers.
“What’s going on?” Michelle asked, trying to read the concerned look on her friend’s face.
“Hang on.” Wyatt kept the numbers of many places in and around town – Shuttermore happened to be one of them. Not knowing what to expect, he gave them a call.
“Shuttermore Psychiatric Institute.” A male voice spoke.
“This is Detective Wyatt Cage, badge number 974656, I need to know if you’ve had anything out of the ordinary happen there recently.”
“Can you be a little more specific please?”
“Not really, no.”
There was a silence on the other end of the line. “Well, I’m not exactly sure what you’re looking for, but we did have a female patient break out a few nights ago.”
Wyatt knew what was coming, but he had to ask anyway. “Got a name?”
“Uh…well…here it is. Her name is…Michelle Dantes.”
Wyatt felt as though his stomach was just hollowed out with a spoon. “Are you sure?”
They guy, who sounded to be in his mid-twenties replied, “Yep, I’m staring right at the report, she’s got blonde hair, blue eyes, she’s in her early thirties, and has a killer body.”
“Thanks.”
“Detective, just one more thing, if you happen to run across her, be very careful, she’s dangerous…like stab you in the back with a kitchen knife dangerous.”
Wyatt said not another word, only hung up.
“Wyatt, you’re starting to scare me, what’s going on?”
Glaring over at her he said, “We need to go, now.” Wyatt grabbed their coats as they headed out to the car. He flipped open his phone once more, speed dialing a number. After only a single ring, someone answered. “Eva, it’s me…I need a favor.”
Wyatt hated to do it, but he had no choice other than to take Michelle to the station. He figured she’d be safer at Shuttermore than out in the open. However, he had grown to care for her, so in respect to that as well as many others, including his brother, his crusade to bring Damon down wasn’t going to stop. Pulling into the alley beside the precinct, Wyatt opened the door for his friend, and as she turned around, he placed his cuffs on her wrists. She said nothing, just kept thinking about what Wyatt had told her, and couldn’t believe she went from waking up in a ditch to being cuffed and placed in a holding cell. Searching her heart for any kind of answers was all she could do at that point, but though she felt like a fighter, she could not and would not believe what was being said to her about her past. Memory or not, she knew deep down inside she was a good person…or was that just a mysterious voice in her mind trying hard to protect her from an unimaginable truth?
As they walked inside, Wyatt had a hold of the cuffs as he and Michelle made their way through the bullpen, passed other officers, and a maze of desks, all while Michelle hung her head, hiding her face behind her long hair. She didn’t want anyone seeing such shame and sorrow building behind her eyes. To many of the officers in the room working on paperwork, making phone calls, or looking at a murder board, seeing Wyatt bringing in his latest catch was an all too familiar sight. Usually however, he threw them into an interrogation room and slammed the door behind them, not take them straight to the holding cells just down the stairs. Then again, many of his suspects weren’t as petite as the blonde walking with him, and most were withholding much needed information.
As they made their way through the room, Wyatt kept his detective resolve. His brow was furrowed and a subtle look of anger clung to his face. That expression was known to many others who worked with him, and they knew to keep clear until he cooled down or was at least sipping on some coffee. They walked through the doors and down the stairs. Upon turning the corner, they saw a line of cells on both sides of the hall, all made of iron bars, offering no privacy in the least. Thankfully, for Michelle, no others were around – must have been a slow day.
Opening the first cell door, Wyatt took the cuffs off of his friend and eased her inside, closing the door behind her. Two of the many cameras in the hallway captured everything. “I wish things could’ve been different between us. You were the first real friend I’ve had in a long time.” Wyatt said with a heavy heart. “And I really hope for your sake you don’t get your memory back, maybe in a few years you can make something of yourself.”
Michelle’s voice was soft. “It won’t matter…because the only thing I care about is getting ready to walk away from me…and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“You’re not losing me.” Wyatt assured her. “If you ever need me, just call. Besides, I’m going to be checking in on you from time to time. And if you don’t have a relapse, I’m pretty sure you’ll be out in no time…and I’ll…be here waiting.”
“I can’t believe, with everything we’ve been through, you’re going to put me in here and take the word of some report over mine. I thought we’d grown closer than that.”
“If there were any other way, believe me, I’d find it, but I can’t argue with the information I was given. I even looked it up myself, everything’s true.”
“Wyatt, that was a different me, one I can’t even remember. How can you hold that against me?”
“I don’t.” Wyatt replied with a saddened heart. “The only thing I want to hold against you is me…but that’s not possible right now…for that, I’m sorry.” Wyatt turned to leave. “I’ll let you know what I find.” He added.
“Wyatt!” Michelle yelled. “Wyatt, please don’t do this! Don’t leave me! Please, come back.” She watched as her best and only friend left the holding area, wondering if she would ever see him again, despite him saying he would come around from time to time.
Wyatt made his way back up the stairs and into the bullpen. He had a hunch which he was hoping would lead him straight to Damon, so instead of sitting at his desk poking around through the computer, he decided to do some real work and go back out on the streets. As he walked through the precinct doors, two men dressed in white pants, a short sleeve white button up shirt, a white belt, and black shoes, wearing badges from Shuttermore, made their way inside. Wyatt only caught a momentary glimpse of them, but it was enough to make his brow furrow and curiosity set in. Both of the men looked a litt
le too scruffy and smelled of alcohol to be orderlies, so Wyatt figured he’d wait to see how this was going to play out. Maybe they were who they claimed to be as he overheard one of them tell the officer at the front desk, and maybe they were from Damon’s crew – he wasn’t quite sure. They both looked to be pretty well built, like they lived in the gym and were hopped up on the latest steroid, but even as an orderly it was necessary to keep up strength for those hard to handle patients. Wyatt continued on his way back to his car, knowing full well if those two were from Damon’s crew, they still had to get Michelle out of the precinct, so they wouldn’t risk hurting her, especially in front of the guard who had to open the door.
Sitting in his Challenger, Wyatt waited to see what the men were going to do. From his position in the alley, he had a clear view of the street and the vehicles on it. The road was two lanes with a good bit of traffic, but in front of the station sat several inconspicuous vans and cars, nothing out of the ordinary. He thought one of the vans would have a label which read ‘Shuttermore’, however, as he looked around he didn’t see anything. Then again, why advertise? Some nut job off of the street may try taking it for a joy ride…that would be fun to explain.
His patience paid off. While keeping an eye on the front doors, he caught the two orderlies walking out with his friend wearing a pair of arm restraints. It was a sight Wyatt found hard to watch and thought about breaking Michelle out and running off with her…but they already knew how that would play out. He only hoped one day she would be able to forgive him. The men put her into the back of one of the black vans, and they didn’t look to be too easy about it either. Wyatt’s brow furrowed as the door shut and they were off. Having shaken many a tail in his time, he hung back a little to remain inconspicuous, but not far enough he’d lose sight of the van.
The further they drove the more Wyatt realized his hunch was right. He knew the way to Shuttermore, and it was in the opposite direction. Something told him they weren’t going for lunch, which left only one other explanation – they were Damon’s guys. A stronger sense of urgency kicked in, and though Wyatt wanted to get on their bumper, he knew it would more than likely get them both killed. He had only one choice…patience. He put a little more distance between them but never lost track of the van.
Wyatt knew the town and surrounding areas, but the way they were going was a road he’d never been on, and even worse, it was so isolated it was going to be hard to keep up the tail. By the looks of the road, it didn’t get much traffic, there was the normal wear due to the weather, but not much else, and it made Wyatt an easy target to spot. He hung back a little more, giving the van room to breathe, thankful the road was lined on both sides by trees, because it was only that, and the twists and turns which kept him out of sight.
The more winding the road became, the less Wyatt could see the van until it appeared to have vanished all together. Along the way were several side roads on which to turn and he didn’t have time to check them all. If they had turned, he could have driven by the road and not even known it, or they could have still been just a little ways ahead of him. Either direction was unclear. Wyatt pulled out his smart phone, opened up the GPS tracker, and saw a red blip moving quickly along a side road about a quarter mile ahead of his location. Putting the phone on his dash, and keeping a close eye on the moving dot, he sped off.
Back at the precinct Wyatt had a hunch Damon’s guys may show up, so as he helped Michelle out of his car, he took a small circular tracking device, no bigger than a dime, from his jacket pocket and discretely placed it under the collar of his friend’s jacket. The locator was built by a reformed hacker friend of his and could be pinged by both satellites and cell towers. There was no way Wyatt was going to lose the signal…no matter how far into the sticks they went.
As he turned onto the dirt road, Wyatt watched as the red dot slowed and eventually stopped about two hundred yards ahead of him. After going half of the distance, he felt it best to hide his car and hoof it the rest of the way. After all, it’s harder to spot a single person creeping between the trees than it is a roaring engine barreling down the road. Wyatt was well trained to remain hidden in his surroundings until he wanted to be seen, so he turned the woods into his playground. He was able to make it to the edge of the tree line rather quickly and stay out of sight behind some dense shrubbery. What he laid eyes on made him question how he was unable to find Damon’s hideout all this time. The place was huge…a thirty-foot-tall warehouse which stood in the middle of a clearing. It had to have been bigger than most free-standing department stores. However, it was definitely better guarded than most military bases. Along the gravel roads stood several check points with guards armed with .50 caliber submachine guns, along with two tanks, snipers on the roof, and several foot patrols circling the building. And that was just what Wyatt could see from the outside. Yeah, Damon had either stepped up his delusions all of that would protect him or his ever-increasing paranoia someone was out to get him. However, you don’t get to be in a position like Damon without making a few enemies over the years.
Wyatt kept a close eye on everything going on around him, one false step and he was getting a bullet from a sniper followed by a few from a couple of the boys doing laps. The thought crossed his mind of stealing one of the tanks and using it to ring the doorbell, but that may get everyone killed. It was then he saw a side door only a few dozen yards in front of him. Quickly, he looked around for something to use as a distraction and came across a few rocks lying close by on the ground. They were no bigger than a small cup but would do nicely. Backing up, he hurled one of them as hard as he could caddy corner from his position and into the woods. When it hit, the noise was loud enough to get the attention of not only the sniper closest to him, but with the timing he used, a few of the patrols were sidetracked as well. That was it…his chance to make a run for it. Do or die, there is no try. He bolted out of the trees like a bat out of hell, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. As he reached the door, he turned the knob only to find it was locked. There was little doubt the patrols were resuming and he had to act quickly. While he was jiggling the handle, the door opened, and a guard stepped out. With a single punch to the head, Wyatt knocked him out and closed the door as he went inside…just in time to hear a patrol walking by.
Taking a moment to breathe after going from the pan to the fire, he glanced around in amazement. The inside seemed to be bigger than the outside. The entire place was open concept. There were multiple levels with what appeared to be offices up top, and storage on the other two levels. He was surrounded by stacks of huge crates and barrels. Peeking inside he found guns…lots of automatic guns…and drugs, not to mention there were too many crates to count which read ‘explosive’ on the sides. One wrong move and the place would go up like a roman candle. Normally, Wyatt wouldn’t hesitate to light the fuse, but not without getting his friend and himself out first. Turning the place into a crater would have to wait…for now.
Pulling the phone from his pocket, Wyatt checked to see Michelle’s location. Thankfully the program was good down to a two-meter area, so finding her wasn’t going to be the hard part…getting out alive was. She wasn’t far from him, only about fifty yards away, but between them were at least a dozen armed guards. His only saving grace were the containers which to hide behind. He began to move toward the red dot on his phone, dodging guards left and right, knowing if even one of them spotted him, he would be surrounded and out gunned in a matter of seconds. As he maneuvered between crates, he could hear a familiar voice speaking, it was faint at first, but the closer he got to Michelle, the louder the voice became.
“I was hoping we’d get to meet face to face. I’ve been trying to get my hands on you for a long time.” Damon spoke in his usual sinister tone.
Wyatt was close, there was only one more guard blocking his view. He stood with his back to Wyatt, watching everything his boss was doing. Standing there, he held an M-16 in both hands, with a finger on the tr
igger, ready to fire. He could also clearly see two pistols on either side of his hips with several back up magazines on his belt. If Wyatt were to try a silent take down, there was no doubt shots would be fired. And from where the guy stood, he was in plain sight of the entire room, everyone would see him go down. From Wyatt’s position, all he could see was his friend cuffed to a chair and her head hanging low, surrounded by guards, who looked a lot like the one in front of him, with Damon walking toward her.
“Do you have any idea what I’ve had to go through to get you here?” Damon asked rhetorically. Michelle’s head continued to hang. “You’re a hard woman to find. I’ve had my boys looking everywhere for you, but I knew sooner or later Wyatt would do his job and lead me right to you. He never stopped working for me, he can’t. You see, he’s under contract, which means until I say otherwise, his…shall we say…soul…belongs to me. He didn’t tell you that, did he?” Michelle said nothing. “Yeah, some protector he is. I saved his brother from certain death, and when I did, I made sure it cost him everything. Twelve-year-olds never read the fine print.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to know help is not coming. Even if Wyatt were here right now, he couldn’t touch me.” Michelle still wouldn’t look at Damon, only shook her head. “My boys tell me you can’t remember anything about who you really are, if you prove to me that’s true, maybe instead of killing you, I’ll offer you a job…all you have to do is sign on the dotted line.” Damon’s voice was as underhanded as a snake, and the devilish grin on his lips spoke volumes behind his true intent. However, as the seconds passed, Michelle still hadn’t acknowledged him, and his anger intensified immensely. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!” He grabbed her by the hair, yanked her head back, and was stunned by the one before him, for her true identity had been revealed. “Who are you?” he asked as the woman sitting there smirked. Damon looked around at the guards who brought her. “Who is this?!” The fiery rage within him began to grow even hotter.
