Creed’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking about that?”
“Just wondered since I don’t have much memory of that time myself.”
Creed clapped him on the back. “I wouldn’t worry about it. And don’t worry about Jessie, either. I’ll guard her with my life.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“So you do trust me?”
Lockman stared at him a moment. “I trust you know that if anything does happen to her, I’ll get the tools back out and I won’t stop until you’re dead.”
Creed raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together. “You couldn’t have just said ‘yes’ to make me feel better?”
“Not my style.”
Lockman found himself wondering about Jessie while he sat in his car inside the entrance to the cemetery. He sipped a bottle of water. He wanted to chug it. Even with the windows down, the heat seemed to sap every bit of moisture from his body. But he had another long day ahead of him. The water would go right through him and then he would have to urinate. He was prepared to use one of the empty water bottles to relieve himself in, but the less he had to do that, the better.
This was day two of his cemetery stakeout and already he felt antsy. In the past he had conducted surveillance jobs that went on for weeks. He didn’t have that kind of patience anymore. The only thing that kept him settled was thinking about Jessie, conjuring what if scenarios about how life could be after this was over with. Ridiculous ideas that had him playing a major role in her life.
Not all of the what ifs held such a cheerful sheen, though. Sometimes he worked out worst case scenarios. Many of them ended with one or more of them dead—him, Kate, Jessie.
Bored beyond the reach of any mind games, Lockman picked up the pre-paid cell phone he bought shortly after arriving in Detroit. He dialed Creed’s number, which he had programmed into the phone.
Jessie answered.
“Where’s Victor?” Lockman asked.
“He’s here. But I saw it was you on the caller ID. I figured you wanted to talk to me.”
“You did, huh?”
She laughed. “You’ve only called about a hundred times to check if I’m okay. I’m fine. Mr. Creed is pretty cool, actually. He’s telling me stories.”
“What kind of stories?”
“About you, of course. Did you really have a priest bless a fire hydrant so you could wipe out a vampire nest with a fire hose?”
“Not single-handedly. My team backed me up.”
“That is so awesome.”
“Are you going to say it?”
She groaned. “It’s so lame.”
“It’s not lame. It’s a precaution. If you are safe, say it.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Good. Next time I call, the phrase will be, ‘The farm sure is beautiful.’”
“You make these up on the spot, or did you write a list.”
Lockman drew a pen from the center console and crossed off a line in the spiral notebook on the passenger seat. “I make them up as I go.”
“Okay. Now that I’ve said the secret phrase, is there any progress on your end?”
Lockman rubbed the stubble on his face and realized it didn’t qualify as stubble anymore, but more like the beginning of a beard. “Quiet so far. Did Creed have any more luck tracing Tanner in the area?”
“He says he’s tapped out. If Tanner’s in the area, he’s covered his tracks.”
“And you’re sure he’s treating you okay?”
“Do I sound like I’m in distress?”
He did feel a little better after establishing their routine with the code phrases that he changed every time he spoke to her. If Creed had any connection to Dolan, even remotely, Dolan would have hit the house by now. He wouldn’t be talking to Jessie.
Which only made things look worse for Tanner.
A light green compact car pulled into the cemetery grounds. Lockman tried to peer through the car’s windows to see the driver. He couldn’t make out details. It did look like a man. And he was alone.
“You still there?” Jessie asked.
“I’ll call you back in a bit.”
He disconnected the call and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat. He watched the car drive toward the center of the grounds. The basic layout of the cemetery mimicked a wagon wheel with blacktopped roads that fed out of a center hub, each spoke ending in a sort of cul-de- sac. Plenty of trees lined the roads, providing shade to the graves nearest these paths. The only change in the standard pattern was at the entrance. An additional pathway curved off to the cemetery’s main office. Lockman had chosen this driveway to set up shop and had paid off the groundskeeper to keep his questions to himself. It gave him the perfect vantage point to watch vehicles enter the grounds and he found a spot where he could see through to the central hub. Depending on which way the vehicle turned from there, Lockman would know if it warranted further study. He had taken note of how to get to Tanner’s sister’s plot.
The green compact pulled through and disappeared behind a line of maple trees. A few moments later, the car returned to view in the hub and took a ninety-degree turn to the left.
Toward the sister’s grave.
Lockman started the car, hoping he could finally end this. The compact didn’t look like anything Tanner would drive. He always favored sleek, impractical cars that either went too fast or burned too much fuel—or both.
Fifteen years changed things, though. Lockman wondered if Tanner had a family now. Kids of his own. Kids he had the opportunity to see grow up and participate in their lives.
He eased the car onto the entry road and headed toward the hub. This wasn’t the first time Lockman followed a car down here. Plenty of other graves were accessible down the same path. He had to check them all.
He drove slowly, giving the visitor plenty of time to find their destination and pull to the side of the road. Lockman would coast by and see where the man headed. If it looked like he might be going toward the target grave, Lockman would turn around in the cul-de-sac and come back. If he found the man standing at the sister’s grave, or could ID Tanner…
Well, that part would come when it came.
Lockman made the appropriate left turn and had to hit his brakes almost immediately. The green compact had stopped in the center of the road.
Heat waves rippled from the exhaust pipe. The driver sat still behind the wheel, but Lockman had the feeling he was being watched in the driver’s rearview mirror.
Had he been made?
The cars break lights dimmed and the car started backing up right for Lockman’s.
Lockman put his hand on the gearshift, but stopped from throwing it into reverse. Instead he laid on the horn in case this person really did not see him and was merely backing up absentmindedly.
The compact turned, curling back so that it came perpendicular to the road, driver’s side closest to Lockman. Peering through the window at him—Tanner.
Lockman instinctively grabbed for the Desert Eagle he had tucked under the driver’s seat. By the time his hand touched the gun he heard the shots snap through his windshield and whip over his head. He grabbed the Desert Eagle, racked the slide, and thumbed off the safety, all while remaining crouched behind the dashboard at an awkward angle. A muscle kinked in his back. Despite all the working out and preparation, age had tweaked him both physically and mentally. He should have figured Tanner would spot a surveillance car right off the bat. Sloppy work on Lockman’s part. Now he would have to improvise.
First move, take away Tanner’s offensive advantage. Lockman let his foot off the break and jammed on the gas. The engine revved and the car shot forward. Slammed into Tanner’s vehicle.
The shots stopped.
Lockman chanced a look over the dash and saw Tanner climbing across his front seat and out the passenger side door. Lockman aimed through the windshield and fired a trio of shots over Tanner’s head, forcing him down.
It bought Lockman enoug
h time to throw his car in reverse and sail back into the hub. Then he jammed the gearshift to drive and stomped on the gas again. With the added distance, this time when Lockman’s rental T-boned Tanner’s compact, he managed to move the opposing vehicle a couple feet sideway.
Tanner scampered out from behind his car and ran for the nearest tree line, firing a few blind shots from a pistol on his way.
Lockman threw his door open and rushed after him.
Tanner ducked behind a tree then threw his gun arm around and snapped off two more blind shots.
Lockman hit the ground and rolled, knowing a blind shot from someone like Tanner was better than the average gun owner’s aimed shot.
He trained his own weapon on the tree he saw Tanner disappear behind and waited. The grass under him was wet from a recent watering. The sun had a cloudless sky to itself and took the opportunity to brutalize the earth below with a heat Lockman felt prickle across his skin like tiny, hot needles.
No sign of movement. Had Tanner moved to another tree when Lockman dove to the ground? He scanned the neighboring trunks. Nothing. And lying out in the open wasn’t doing him any good.
He belly crawled to one of the larger tombstones and lined himself up behind it. Meager cover, but the best he could do without getting up and making a bigger target of himself.
Lockman wanted to call out to Tanner, start a reasonable conversation, maybe end this peacefully. But if Tanner was mixed up with the likes of Dolan, the hope for reasonable anything dropped through the floor.
So he waited.
Turned out Tanner called to him. “Craig? You going to kill me before I even get the chance to explain?”
Lockman tried to pinpoint Tanner’s location from his voice. He didn’t sound like he had moved far from the first tree, if at all. “You tried to kill me first.”
“Sorry about that. You spooked me. I didn’t realize it was you until after I started firing.”
“Not like you to shoot so blind like that. What would Creed think about his agency spy?”
Tanner’s laugh sounded disembodied coming from the trees. “So that’s how you found me. He still have all his files?”
“I was sorry to hear about your sister.”
“Yeah, well, shit happens. What do you want, Craig?”
“You know damn well.”
“Whatever you think you know, you don’t even know a fraction. Trust me.”
“Why don’t you toss the gun out and come forward with your hands up so we can talk about it?”
“So you can shoot me in the gut the second I come out?”
“Why would I shoot you?”
“Aw hell. Let’s stop fucking around. You know I put Dolan onto your little girl and that’s how he traced you to LA. You’re pissed off. You want revenge.”
“I want answers.”
“I’ve got plenty, none of which you’ll like.”
The back of Lockman’s neck, exposed to the sun, burned. He didn’t dare let the discomfort distract him. He could tell by the tone of his old friend’s voice that he was about to make a move.
“What’s Dolan after?”
“You.”
“But what do I know that he wants?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
Any minute now, Tanner would make his play. Lockman hunkered down and kept his weapon ready.
“Then talk slow. I’m sure I’ll understand.”
“Don’t,” Tanner said, dragging the word out, “move.” His voice came from right behind Lockman.
Before Lockman could react, the barrel of Tanner’s pistol pressed against Lockman’s neck.
“But you were behind the trees. I heard you.”
“You mean that guy?”
Tanner came out from behind the same tree Lockman had seen him duck behind moments before. He stepped into the open and waved.
But the gun barrel still nestled against Lockman’s neck. “A glamour of some kind? Dolan’s got you using the mojo now, too?”
The Tanner that came from behind the tree exploded into a cloud of dust that blew away and dissipated in seconds.
“It has its uses.”
“Who was tortured and killed for you to pull off that trick?”
“Toss your gun aside, Craig.”
“Or what? You’ll kill me? Dolan will have a hard time getting his information from a corpse.”
“You’d be surprised what you can get a corpse to reveal, actually.”
“Is that your plan, then?”
Tanner leaned into his weapon, driving the barrel into Lockman’s neck like a dull nail. “Quit being a douche bag and toss the gun.”
“No.”
“You going to try and shoot me over your shoulder?”
“Good idea.”
“How do you expect to protect Kate and Jessie if you’re dead?”
Lockman gritted his teeth, then threw the Desert Eagle aside.
Tanner backed off. “Now stand.”
Lockman pushed to his hands and knees. That muscle in his back twitched again. He froze, tried to stretch it loose.
“We’re not as nimble as we used to be,” Tanner said when Lockman finally got to his feet.
“Limber enough to break your windpipe with my hands.” He turned to face his former friend for the first time in over a decade.
He hadn’t changed much, outside of the flecks of gray around his temples and the well-trimmed beard he sported that made him look more like a college professor than ex-military. The beard had a distinct patch of gray in it as well. But instead of making him look unkempt, it gave him a distinguished look.
“You look cute,” Lockman said.
“Don’t let the image fool you. I haven’t let myself get soft like you have.”
“Tell that to the team of vamps, the shifter, and the specter that tried to take me.”
“Yeah, well, I never put much faith in supernaturals. This plane isn’t their turf. Their physics don’t mix well with ours.”
The heat crackled over Lockman’s scalp. It was hard to tell how much of that came from the sun and how much was pure rage. “You were my friend. I trusted you.”
“Your mistake.”
“So this has been going on a while? Even from the beginning?”
“How do you think Dolan found you the first time?”
A dizzy wave rolled through Lockman. His vision closed around the edges. “You? Impossible. You saved me.”
“Yeah, well, that wasn’t on purpose. I had to choose between my cover and pretending to save your ass. I was too key an asset to get blown, even for you.”
Lockman hung his head. The muscles in his neck turned to steel rods. “Why me? Out of everyone in the Agency, I was the most green. Hell, with your position you could have went straight for Creed.”
The corner of Tanner’s mouth curled up. “You still don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“Ho, man. I can’t believe Creed didn’t tell you. Even after all this time the old bastard has to keep his secrets.”
A cold sweat washed over Lockman and his stomach roiled. He felt as if he stood on a wayward ship in the middle of a storm. “What are you talking about?”
“Christ, bro, I’m not sure I’m the one who should break it to you. Maybe Dolan can lay it out for you.” He waved his gun toward the cars. “Your ride looks the most drivable. We need to get out of here.”
“I’m not going with you.”
“Then I shoot you and carry you.”
Craig lifted his chin and stared Tanner in the eyes.
Tanner grunted disgustedly and rolled his eyes. “You are seriously going to make me shoot you? You know, your daughter will be devastated.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“Damn, you’re cold. Were you always like this? I don’t remember.”
“You can’t fake a friendship like that. Parts of it were real.”
“Hey, man, I’ll admit it. I thought you were kick ass. If you knew th
e larger picture, you’d see that isn’t such a stretch.”
“What larger picture? Quit talking in riddles.”
“Get in the fucking car, Craig. The last thing either of us want is local cops getting a hold of our asses.”
“You won’t shoot me.” Lockman took a step forward, closing the gap between his chest and Tanner’s gun.
“Do I want to? No. But I will.”
“Dolan wants me alive.” He took another step forward. Barely half a foot between his sternum and the gun’s barrel. “You can’t shoot me.”
Tanner smiled. “You’re right. You are to be returned to Mr. Dolan unmolested. But I’m not like those dumb supernaturals, Craig. I came prepared.”
The electric jolt shot through Lockman’s body and rendered him immobile except for the jittering. He remained standing long enough to see the Taser in Tanner’s free hand. Then he dropped to the ground.
Tanner crouched at his side.
Lockman tried to command his arm to move so he could reach out and grab Tanner by the neck. His muscles twitched uselessly.
“I could hit you again to make sure you’re down. But why don’t we do this? Why don’t you come along willingly so I don’t have to send a team of vamps to gang rape and feed on your daughter? How’s that sound?”
Lockman could only manage a grunt.
“Is that agreement? You still sound a little angry.”
“Kill…you…”
“All right caveman, you leave me no choice.”
Tanner jabbed the Taser against Lockman’s neck and sent him rattling into darkness.
Chapter Thirty
Charles had lost his fucking mind.
When he swung the hammer, he didn’t have any intention of striking the woman. Instead, he clanged the metal head against the pipe her hands were cuffed to. Just to scare her.
He got the reaction he wanted. She screamed and fell into sobs. But hearing her cry, Charles again thought about his mother and the last conversation he had with her. How he told her he hated her and never wanted to see her again. How her cries followed him out the door before he slammed it behind him.
That’s when he found himself trying to console the cuffed woman. Then realizing he could not kill her, let alone brutalize her in the process. Which had left him with two ugly options—tell Mr. Dolan he had to get someone else to do the job, or get the woman the hell out of there.
The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels Page 17
