“No need for me to tell you what you’re full of,” Jayson said, rising.
“Mister Owens, please.”
“Have you seen the tape yet?”
“No, but I talked to several of the bank employees. They told me what was on the discs we turned over to the PD.”
“Listen, I’ll take a look at this DVD, and whether or not I know these folks, I’ll let you know tomorrow morning.”
“I guess I can’t ask for anything more.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve asking me to do this much.”
Jayson went into the house without another word. He was relieved to hear Graham’s car roar away. He went into the kitchen, grabbed a slice of pepper-jack cheese from the fridge and went into the living room. Jayson pondered the situation and realized that if he admitted knowing either man he’d be out of a job.
Hmmm…maybe that’s what Graham is up to.
Jayson inserted the disc into the tray of the DVD player and flicked on the TV, then sat on the edge of his coffee table and let the seven-minute recording run its course. During the first run-through, he froze the frame several times and zoomed in.
“Wait a minute…”
Jayson rewound the DVD and replayed it, this time in slo-motion. When he reached a particular scene, he zoomed into a specific section of the screen. He stroked his chin and contemplated the facts. Two black men and one of them wore a Seiko Sportura. He recognized the red, black and silver band.
The second man in the scene had a chain wallet. He recognized it, too.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
S I X T E E N
2:51 a.m.
Mixon sat behind the wheel of his police cruiser and looked both tired and pensive. Cruz remained alert and her head turned in all directions. It was she who suggested they back into the driveway of an empty house so that they would have no open space behind them. It allowed them to see approaching pedestrians and vehicular traffic in either direction.
“What’s on your mind?” She asked.
“That robbery.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t know. Something about it stinks to the mountain tops.” He turned to Fiona and gave her a long look. “Think about it. The robbers either let the woman go, in which case she would have contacted the PD out of fear, or they killed her, in which case she would have joined the rest of the burial-resistant. The only other option is that she was in on the robbery and is still with them.”
“Maybe they cut her loose and she was eaten by those…those things.”
“First off, I’m certain they’re still in the projects. I trust my instinct.”
“What if they ran beyond the projects?”
“I don’t think we would have missed them; but for the sake of argument, let’s say we did. Where could they have gone? Not to Antioch or over the bridge.”
“You never know, since every cop in the area is tied up. As for the girl, I certainly don’t see them committing a senseless murder, especially if she was in on it.”
“That would give each robber a fifty-percent greater take.”
“I’d guess that she’s with them and is caught up in that Stockholm Syndrome thing.”
“What the hell is Stockholm Syndrome?” Mixon asked.
“It’s a psychological state that sometimes afflicts hostages, and applies to those who develop an emotional attachment and show loyalty to their captors, even defending them. This is what they say happened to Patty Hearst when she was abducted by the Symbionese Liberation Army.”
“And you think that sort of relationship would develop in just a few hours?”
Cruz turned away and looked out of her window. “Sounds like we’re both fishing with the wrong bait.”
Mixon’s lip curled in anger. “No, those robbers are in the apartment with that guy and the chick with the lantern!”
Cruz forced herself to ponder the possibility. “What makes you so sure?”
“Did you notice how anxious that one guy was to talk to us? Think about it. How eager are project tenants to talk to the police?”
“Considering the circumstances, could you blame him?”
“He wanted us the hell out of there before we caught on. Asking for help was a ruse. He knew we couldn’t leave our post.”
Cruz sat up straight. “I suppose you want to check this out?”
“Damn right.”
“Let’s try one more time to make contact with command for back-up. If not, we go in like gangbusters.”
“Cool.”
The grin Mixon flashed afterward looked as twisted as anything Cruz had seen that evening.
***
2:52 a.m.
Roy tapped Cash on the shoulder and whispered, “Let’s make that move.”
“Where’s everyone at?” A half-sleep Cash looked around the room. He saw Noodles on the sofa, his gun at his feet and a weary Valerie lying with her head on his shoulder.
“Ned and Duke are at the back door. Jenny has the hall and Grace is backing her up.”
“What if those two in the kitchen ask questions?”
“We tell ‘em we think we know where to get some more ammo. I’ll get the youngsta to stand at the front door.”
Roy went into the kitchen and moved past Ned, who was scowling because Valerie was sitting with Noodles. Roy whispered the plan to Duke who nodded, as he was eager to do something other than listen to Ned’s bitching and moaning about how shoddy sistas treat black men.
“How long will y’all be out?” Duke asked.
“No longer than five minutes.”
Roy went back into the living room where he found Cash standing by the door. With their pistols in hand, they stepped into the night. Cash took the flashlight off the jug and Roy grabbed the machete.
“Too bad we only have one of these,” Roy said.
“Why do you think the cops haven’t swarmed all over this place?” Cash asked.
“Give ‘em time. I just hope we can get our asses outta here tomorrow morning.”
Roy shifted his eyes from left to right, taking in the minutest detail of the landscape. Blood coated the lawn as did slippery innards and flesh. The smell of blood and decomposing bodies permeated the air. “You know, Grace and I have always called Pittsburg home. For her to just want to up and leave is a real shock.”
“She’s right,” Cash said, stepping over a head with a gaping mouth and dripping blood from its severed stump of a neck. Cash fought to regain his focus. “Anyway, I agree with her. We need to catch hat outta here. Maybe we can find a spot and pave the way for her and the kids, or take the boys with us and she could drive down later with Sherry and Tanisha.”
“Where would we go?”
“A small-town, where everyone knows each other by name but who have the decency to mind their own business.”
“Oh, Fantasy Land,” Roy joked.
They reached the apartment where the money was stashed and entered through the back door, which unlike the front door, was still intact. They realized the presence of that door could provide the few extra seconds that made the difference between life and death. Cash shined the light inside the door, pushed it open with his foot to make sure he opened it all the way. He peered around the corners before he felt along the wall that led to the living room. He stepped toward the area where the wall adjoined the doorway to the hall and aimed the flashlight into the farthest area of the room. They had moved fewer than ten feet before Cash saw the glow of a pair of eyes. He stopped and drew his pistol.
The being threw his hands up and shouted to him, “Wait!”
“Step your ass out where I can see you!” Roy growled.
Stepping from the darkness was a skinny man in a hoodie and jeans that looked as if they hadn’t been washed in weeks. The trembling man slid along the wall. Roy saw that behind the man, leaning against the wall, was a broom. The bundled up croaker sack lie on the floor near the bathroom door.
“Going somewhere, pal?” Cash asked.<
br />
“I saw y’all come in here earlier,” the man said. “When y’all left, you did so without the bag. I put two and two together…” The man’s breathing was rapid and audible. “Look, all I wanna do is leave. I don’t want any of the money.”
“How do you know money’s in that bag?”
After the man hesitated with his answer, Cash walked over to where he stood and jammed the gun against his temple.
“I could blow what little brains you’ve got all over this wall and it won’t matter one iota, because no one’s around to hear or witness a thing.”
“Be cool, bro,” the main said, sounding as if he was in the midst of an asthma attack. “I’m not dumb. I heard about the bank robbery, but I ain’t no snitch. Yeah, you caught me with your money, but at least I didn’t lie to you.”
“You should have,” Cash said. He stepped back and the man fell into a crouch and threw up his hands. Cash pulled the trigger and blood sprayed onto the wall.
Roy frowned. “Did you have to shoot him?”
“Who’s to say he wouldn’t have ID’d us for the reward money?” Cash looked at the machete that Roy held at his side. “Off with his head.”
“How do we know he’s like the others?”
“He’s been outside. We can’t take chances.”
Roy took four hacks at the man and finally succeeded in beheading him, much to Cash’s amusement.
“Fuck you, Cash,” Roy said, his chest heaving. He then picked up the sack and a swath of light broke through the front window. The two of them hit the floor and turned off the lantern. Cash crawled to the window and peeked out.
“Shit! We better lay low, man. The cops are at your sister’s.”
S E V E N T E E N
2:59 a.m.
“Good morning, Miss…”
While Mixon sounded civil, his jaw was tight and Grace thought that at any moment, the cop might strike her.
“Owens. Grace J. Owens,” she replied.
“You have any I.D., Miss Owens?”
“Yes. It’s in my purse in my bedroom.”
“Mind if we come in and take a look around?”
“Yes, I do mind.”
“That’s funny,” Mixon said, fingering his nightstick. “A few hours ago you were begging for our help.”
“I asked you to help us get out of here, nor for a search party. Now do you want to see my I.D.?”
“I have another question,” Mixon said. “Are there any black men inside this house?”
“Yes, there are.”
“How many?”
“Would you like to speak with them?”
“I’d like to speak to the man who was outside earlier tonight.”
“There were two men out there earlier tonight.”
Duke came to the door and told Mixon, “I was the cat holding the lantern.”
“Go back and sit down on the couch.” Mixon continued to eye-ball Grace. “Where’s the other guy?”
“He left.”
“When?”
“I wasn’t looking at a clock.”
“Guess.”
“No.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“Not that I know of.”
“When is he coming back?”
“I don’t know that he is.”
“He got a name?”
“I guess. He couldn’t get a social security card or a driver’s license without one.”
Mixon stepped forward. “The law says I don’t need a warrant to come in here and search. I can get CPS over here so fast it’ll make that nappy ass head of yours swim!”
“Intimidation isn’t very becoming, Officer Mixon. Second, I will not allow you to search a damn thing here. You have no right to barge into my house unless I give you consent, you see criminal evidence in plain view, or if I’m placed under arrest—and then you can only perform a protective sweep.”
“Looks like we got us a smart nigger here,” Mixon said, turning red.
“Ma’am, we could search your house if we wanted to,” Cruz said.
“And if you step over that threshold without her consent you could get your fucking guts blown out,” Ned said, stepping into the living room.
“Sir, I’m going to ask you to sit down on the sofa and lower that shotgun,” Mixon said, putting his hand on his service revolver. After Ned did as the officer said, Mixon returned his attention to Grace. “Ma’am, we can also search when a suspect we’re looking for is about to escape.”
It was all Grace could do to avoid laughing out loud. “First of all, you can’t name the suspect you’re looking for and you have no proof he or she came here. Furthermore, no one here is on parole, at least you have no proof that anyone is, since you don’t even know who’s here.” Grace tapped her temple. “Oh, if you were a county home inspector seeking evidence of welfare fraud you could search, but that’s not your job, is it? By the way, I don’t receive welfare.”
“That’s bullshit!” Mixon shouted.
“Officer Mixon. I work as a paralegal for Thomas Jacobs, the criminal defense attorney.”
Mixon’s fingers wiggled on the butt of his gun.
“Sir, you reach for that gun and your odds ain’t too good. There are more guns in here than out there.”
Cruz tapped her partner on the arm. “Let’s go,” she said. “You gambled and lost.”
“We’ll be back in the morning with a warrant,” Mixon said, pointing at Grace.
“Good luck finding a judge to sign it.”
Grace slammed the door and returned to her room.
***
3:10 a.m.
Cash waited until he saw the lights on the squad car turn toward the street before he stood and turned on the lantern. Roy grabbed the croaker sack and threw it over his shoulder. They walked out the back door, hit the corner, and made sure the area was clear before they ran across the blood-stained court and tapped on Grace’s window. She slid it open and they tossed the bag inside, then they came through the front door.
“The cops came here,” Noodles said. He looked at Cash. “They asked about you.”
“I figured they would,” Cash said. “That white boy was staring me down when I came outside the first time.”
“What’d you bring back?” Ned said, entering.
“We didn’t get shit.”
“Why not?”
Roy jumped in. “Tell you what, Wolf Blitzer looking muthafucka, why not take your ass over there and get some extra ammo?”
Ned turned and went back to his post in the kitchen. It didn’t go unnoticed that Valerie’s hair was mussed and the front of her dress was pulled down further than he remembered it, and her bra was bunched up.
As the two walked toward the kitchen, Roy saw Ned roll his eyes in Valerie’s direction and overheard him mutter the words, “That lousy ho.”
“That old dude acts like he’s got papers on that,” Roy said to Cash, who nodded his agreement.
Grace came into the kitchen. “Ned, you and I need to talk.”
Ned faced her and replied, “Okay, talk.”
“I think we should all go to your house. We ought to be in the two apartments on your side of the complex.”
“What for?”
“For starters, those cops will be back and they might have a warrant to search here, which is fine. If we vacate, they won’t find anything. Second, they won’t have a warrant to search your place.”
“You’re right about that,” Ned said nodding. “We’ll have the fence on two sides of us, meaning we only have to keep our eyes pointed in one direction.”
“Makes sense to me,” Valerie said quietly.
“What do you know about anything?” Ned’s snapped. The only thing you know anything about is sucking…”
“Watch your mouth, Ned!” Grace said pointing at him. “I have daughters in here.”
Valerie threw her smile to one side of her face. “Just remember that you weren’t too proud to pay for the chance to see me in a
ction.”
Ned flinched, as if he was going to raise the gun and blast away at Valerie. Cash took two steps forward and unleashed a picture-perfect overhand right that caught the older man on the chin and put him on his back, out cold. Cash looked down on him with a mix of pity and disgust.
“I thought old boy needed a nap.” Cash looked at Valerie and Noodles. “Y’all gotta move so we can lay him on the couch.”
“No problem,” Noodles said, rising and grabbing the old man’s feet.
Cash took Ned by his arms and they deposited him on the couch. He looked at Valerie and smiled. “I don’t know what you did to old boy to get his nose that wide open. Then again, maybe it’s best I don’t.”
Valerie wanted to tell him, When you want to find out let me know, but she figured she’d said enough for the time being. Second, the young man who’d been on her all night seemed like he was starting to dig on her and she didn’t want him to get into a battle with Ned or Cash.
“I guess you all better rummage through the shelves and get something to eat,” Grace said. “Maybe that’s why there’s so much tension in here; no one’s eaten.”
With that, Grace returned to her room. No sooner had she departed when their sense of calm was shattered by a knock at the door. Everyone became engaged in optical musical chairs, as they wondered who would answer. The unspoken consensus was that it was the police.
“Fuck it, I’ll get it,” Noodles said.
Roy grabbed his arm. “Hell naw, young buck. I’ll get it.”
He walked to the front door. Cash had his gun trained on the door, making sure that he was at such an angle that if he had to fire, he wouldn’t hit his homey. Valerie took cover with Duke, behind the kitchen wall.
Roy shouted, “Identify yourself!”
The voice came back with aloud, “Open this damn door!”
Roy clenched his teeth and opened the door.
***
3:12 a.m.
Benton was dog-tired from napping off and on, so he decided he would keep the next conference with Crossfield and Greenbaum short. While tossing and turning in bed, he considered a plot to connect her to Pederson. I can’t risk her developing a conscience and going to the media. I have to bring this to a swift conclusion and tie up as many loopholes as possible.
Zombie Factor Page 11
