by G. K. Parks
“Not a problem. That’s all I was asking.” He gave me a ‘yeah, right’ look and finished his lunch.
On the ride back to the police station, my mind was turning over some facts that I should not have been considering. There was no reason to think the targeted vehicles had anything to do with the contract killer or leading us to a contract killer. The two were completely unrelated events. The only obvious flaw in my logic was the common denominator, Reginald Barlow, but Ryan said he didn’t believe Reggie was the Camel. Stop it, Parker.
“Jen was wondering when you and Martin were free,” O’Connell said, attempting to draw me away from spinning my wheels. Sometimes, I suspected he might be clairvoyant, or he was particularly apt at reading my body language and guessing my thoughts.
“When he’s working, I’m free. And when I’m working, he’s free. Why?”
“Because I promised Jen I’d ask you about our monthly double date night.” He made an ugh noise which perfectly matched my sentiments. It was nice once we were out, but the planning and prep were the pits. Having couple friends and doing couple things was what the normal world did. Unfortunately, O’Connell and I didn’t exist in a normal world.
“Maybe you should tell her to ask Martin. Although, I doubt we’ll be going on double dates too much longer.” O’Connell threw me a questioning look. “Were you aware I had to lock lips with Claxton for a span of two weeks?” The burger I ate threatened to make a reappearance. “Plus, there’s a lot of turmoil surrounding things I’m not supposed to be thinking about.”
“You’ll be fine.” He dismissed my worry. “James Martin isn’t an idiot and probably the most secure person I’ve ever met. Frankly, it’s downright annoying how cocky and arrogant he is. Hell, I’ve seen him flirt with my wife right in front of my face.”
“That wasn’t flirting. That’s just him.”
“Exactly. Goddamn arrogant.” He shot me a smile. “If anyone’s putting an end to our double date nights, my money’s on you.”
“Hey,” I exclaimed, narrowing my eyes.
“You overthink, overanalyze, and make some dumbass moves. It’s also why you solve as many cases as you do and stumble into these complicated situations.” He pulled to a stop and got out of the car. “Wait here. I’ll bring the information to you. There’s no reason you need to poke around inside and stumble into an even bigger mess.”
Nine
Every surface in my office was covered in paperwork. I dissected the police files and turned each incident into its own separate case, and then I worked each one separately. There were over fifty reported car thefts since Reginald Barlow arrived in town. Obviously, most of them had nothing to do with him. Unfortunately, the only way to determine this was to analyze each case.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked myself. I knocked out fifteen solved cases that had no connection to APS or Barlow’s team. Sometimes, a stolen car was just a stolen car. There was no reason for me to do any of this, but my gut instinct insisted there was more to the story. Perhaps I hoped to find some kind of solid proof of the Camel’s presence within Barlow’s team, the connection that no one else had seen, or maybe this was just the best way of keeping busy in order to ensure I didn’t instill myself into Ryan’s case. Frankly, even I didn’t know the reason for my current behavior.
After knocking out another dozen thefts as unrelated, I called it a night. It was after midnight, and there were half as many cases left to analyze in the morning. On the bright side, I knew what I’d be doing tomorrow. Briefly, I considered calling Ryan or showing up at Martin’s, but both seemed like equally bad ideas. Arriving home, I tried to wind down for the night, but there was something lurking in the corners of my mind.
I woke in the middle of the night to the sound of my own screams. Having nothing better to do and hoping Ryan might still be on Paris time, I found my phone and dialed his hotel, requesting his room.
“Hello?” he asked, sounding awake but confused.
“Sorry I left you at the OIO. Obviously, you found your way back to the hotel.”
“Alex,” there was a brief pause, “I’m still in the U.S., so why are you calling at four in the morning?”
“Because you show up out of the blue, flip my world upside down, and I have no idea what’s going on or what to do about it. When I shut my eyes, I’m back in Paris, and when I’m awake, I’m trying so hard to avoid what you’re doing that I’m refusing to believe the investigation I’ve opened is connected to yours. But it probably is. I don’t know. Maybe. And I don’t know why I’m doing it. The point was to keep busy so as not to wonder what else might be happening.”
“Breathe,” he instructed, and I took a breath and shut my eyes. “Shall I come to you, or would you rather come here? I don’t want to further aggravate your boyfriend.”
“He’s not here, but neither,” I replied. “I just had to vent to someone.”
“And this is my fault,” he admitted. “What are you investigating?” He sounded interested, and with no reason not to share, I told him how I spent my day. “I haven’t found a connection between the Camel and Barlow. We thought there was one, but like I told you, Barlow isn’t our contract killer. The work you’ve done will probably help your police department’s investigation in locating any remaining stragglers in the auto ring, but it should be safe to assume our paths won’t collide.”
“So I’m in the clear?”
“Seems like it.” There was an awkward pause. “I didn’t realize you’d have to work so hard to make sure you didn’t involve yourself in my investigation,” he quipped.
“See, I told you I wouldn’t do more than advise.” I thought about the few names we searched and how none of them led to anything solid. “How’d everything go with Interpol? Are you back on track?”
“Yes. As soon as things are cleared up, I will return home. Just another two or three days and you won’t have any of this to worry about any longer. I’ll be home, and you can investigate whatever you want.”
“Did they recall you from the undercover assignment?”
“We shall see. After all, it’s hard to maintain a cover identity when the group you’ve infiltrated is under arrest for thievery. At least I get to go home and retire Hoyt, right?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No reason to be. Maybe our intel was bad. Barlow wasn’t the guy, and the last six months have been a complete waste of my time and the ICC’s resources.” His words sounded pained, and instinctively, I knew there was more to the story.
“I meant to ask,” the voice in my head warned that I didn’t want the answer, “where’s your support team?”
“The Interpol agent I was partnered with was killed two months ago. Supposedly, it was unrelated to our assignment. Interpol thinks it was a mugging that went wrong.”
“My god.”
“This stuff happens, right? There wasn’t even a blip on Barlow’s radar afterward. Maybe that should have tipped me off that we were looking in the wrong place.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan.”
“Don’t be. I barely knew the man.” It was a coping mechanism to distance himself. I used similar techniques in the past, but it explained why he was so hesitant to tell me anything. He already lost one person and had no intention of losing more, and working with me was clearly taboo. “Agent Jablonsky is picking me up in a couple of hours, so I can continue my work with Interpol now that they’ve completely taken over the investigation from the ICC. He was your direct supervisor, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
Ryan chuckled. “That explains a lot. The way he was acting, you would think I wanted to marry his daughter.”
“That’s Mark for you. Fair warning, he’s also Martin’s best friend, so that’s two strikes against you. I suggest you avoid a third.”
“Baseball?” He seemed confused by the reference.
“Yes.”
“See, I’m catching on.” He paused again. “I have some work to do before he arrives. D
on’t you need to either work or sleep?”
“A bit of both,” I admitted. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“There isn’t, but thanks.”
Hanging up, I felt better about things. It was stupid, but hearing his voice and an explanation assured me he hadn’t gone off the rails. He was searching for pieces to the puzzle, and it turned out he had the wrong picture the entire time.
After spending an entire day working on the car thefts, I decided to finish analyzing the information tomorrow as planned, turn over my findings to the cops, and mend some fences. Shutting my eyes, I slept soundly for the next eight hours, convinced everything was right in the world.
When I awoke, it was mid-afternoon. I spent a couple of hours working out and finding my center. I wasn’t dedicated to yoga or meditation, but coffee and donuts were a decent substitute, especially after the five miles worth of cardio. Settling in at my office, I continued scanning through the cases. After another ten were knocked out of the running, I separated out the eleven I knew to be involved and began on the last few.
No matter how I looked at them, I couldn’t get them to move. There was no way to dismiss any of them as unrelated. Not enough information was available to make that assessment. This wasn’t supposed to be this daunting. When I looked up from the papers, the sun had set, and I considered throwing in the towel. However, that would have made all the work I did up until this point meaningless. Dammit.
Determined not to leave the office until I completed my task, I began conducting searches on the vehicles and contacting the insurance companies for further information. Regardless of the fact that I had no real authority in the matter, most of them were extremely helpful, probably because of their misguided belief that I was somehow still involved in law enforcement. Who knows where they would have gotten such a crazy idea? I knocked out several other vehicles; my list was down to four.
Checking the dates they were reported stolen, the estimated worth, and the similarities to the other heists Gregson orchestrated, I suspected they were related. While I would have enjoyed doing nothing more than proving it, I had restricted access since I wasn’t working for the police department. Calling O’Connell’s work number, I left a message and the case numbers, suggesting he pass the information along to the relevant investigator for further evaluation.
Disconnecting, I drummed my fingers on the desk. That was fun. Now what? Giving my computer a final furtive glance, I turned it off, locked the office, picked up a pizza, and went to Martin’s.
Entering his security codes, I parked in his expansive garage and went upstairs. The polite thing to do would have been to call ahead, grovel and apologize, and then show up. But as I expected, he wasn’t home yet. I didn’t have any desire to ask for forgiveness, but the longer we harbored a grudge, the worse it would be in the end.
Two slices and a lemon drop martini later, Martin came up the steps. “How’d you finish your investigation so soon?” He didn’t bother to conceal his contemptuous tone.
“There’s no case, but there is pizza.” I pointed to the box on his kitchen table. “I wasn’t sure if the offer to stay the week was rescinded, so I can go if you don’t want me here.” He let out a sigh and took off his jacket and tie and unbuttoned his shirt. “Are you planning to physically throw me out of your house?” I joked, tossing him a bittersweet smile.
“You know that you are always welcome here. I just don’t know what you expect from me.”
“I don’t expect anything.”
“Goddammit, why do you always have to be this difficult? For once in your life, just tell me what you’re thinking.”
“You’re right. I can’t stop. I don’t know how, and I don’t want to. You knew this when we met. Hell, that’s exactly the reason we ever met, so you shouldn’t expect me to change.” My voice softened. “But don’t think for a single moment that I didn’t know what the dangers were when I worked as your bodyguard. You saved my life. It was stupid, unreasonable, and completely ass-backward, but that’s what you did. So don’t start rethinking everything. I’m the paranoid, neurotic, lunatic in this relationship, not you.” He snorted, the relief was obvious on his face. “And I’m done arguing. We’ve had this fight before. This isn’t about that. It’s about what happened to me in Paris.” His jaw muscles clenched, and he pressed his lips together. It was his tell, indicating I was right. “See, that’s why I keep my work separate, besides needing to know you’re safe. It’s a lot to process, and a lot to handle. But I know the risks, and there is no reason in this world why you should worry more than you already do.”
“So you showed up to bring me dinner?”
“Yes,” I looked away, “and because we had plans for this week, and even though there’s a good chance that if I stay, I’ll end up waking you up every night I’m here and not for any reason you’d enjoy, I can’t sleep. When I try, I feel the electric current going through me and the rope cutting into my wrists, and I don’t want to be alone.”
“Sweetheart,” whatever anger or argument he might have prepared dissipated as he enveloped me in an embrace, “it’s okay.”
“It’s not Ryan’s fault,” I continued, my voice muffled against his shoulder. “Shit happens. Just like what happened when I worked for you.” I pulled away from him. “That wasn’t your fault. When I mentioned it to Ryan a year ago, it got blown out of proportion. Okay?”
“Okay.” This conversation was beating a dead horse. We had some amalgamation of it over and over again. Besides the obvious issues, Martin believed he should protect me. Oddly enough, I had the same personality type, and it didn’t mesh well when things became life or death. “Sometimes, it’s nice for a guy to know he’s needed, even if it is just to scare away the demons.” I swallowed. “But, Alex, I can’t bear the thought of the past repeating itself.”
“You’re such a sap.” I nudged his ribs. “Fair warning, Ryan’s case and the auto thefts have both grown cold, but if I’m invited to work on either, I’m not walking away. And you just have to accept it.”
“It’s what you do. I couldn’t reasonably expect any less.” He turned his head to look into the kitchen. “By the way, how’s the pizza?”
I laughed. “It’s not bad, but I think dessert will be better.”
* * *
For once in my life, I was determined to stay out of trouble. I said my piece, but if there were any developments that I became privy to, I would blindly chase after them. But without further prodding, I was attempting to keep my nose out of everyone’s business. APS paid for my services, and no one else was seeking to hire me. I earned some time off and was determined to enjoy the hiatus.
Ryan Donough hadn’t made contact since my four a.m. phone call. Perhaps he was home by now, piecing together his real life away from the extended undercover assignments. No one from the police department, OIO, or Interpol called my cell phone which further illustrated how unnecessary my involvement in law enforcement matters had become. Alexis Parker, P.I., that’s who I was now. Strangely, it was equal parts liberating and disappointing. Now that Mark had given up the struggle to have my federal agent status reinstated, I wanted nothing more than to return to my previous life. If this was his attempt to use reverse psychology, it was working incredibly well.
My self-created vacation was beginning to fail horribly as the days passed. With nothing else to focus on or keep my mind busy, the nightmares were getting worse. They weren’t just forcing me to relive ghastly memories, but now I was creating new demons in addition to the old ones.
Twice, I woke up hyperventilating, and once, I dreamt in vivid detail my final assignment at the OIO. It was heart-wrenching, experiencing the deaths of my partner, Agent Michael Carver, and Agent Sam Boyle all over again. This was the reason I resigned, and this was the nightmarish memory that I relived over and over for the first few months after leaving. I wondered if the dream had more to do with the two year anniversary of their deaths, or if it was because a part o
f me was entertaining thoughts of wanting to return to the OIO. Or maybe it was because Ryan’s Interpol partner had been killed when they were working undercover. Who knows?
By the fourth morning, I couldn’t take it anymore. My subconscious wouldn’t let me hide from a case. Instead, it was torturing me to get off my ass and do something about it. Martin didn’t ask what my dreams were about, but the dark circles under his eyes that morning spoke volumes. It was time I stopped hiding.
Returning home, I saw there were three messages on my answering machine, all of which were cryptic. Mark called to check on me, which seemed strange because he could have phoned my cell if he was that concerned. The second message was O’Connell verifying he received the information and hoping for a chance to get together concerning a couple of points. The third was O’Connell again; all he said was call me.
“Idiots,” I mumbled, glancing at my cell phone which hadn’t received a single call in the last four days. It wasn’t like they didn’t know the number. Dialing O’Connell, I waited for the annoying hold music to stop. When he answered, I didn’t bother with the pleasantries. “It’s the twenty-first century, and sadly enough, we’re all tethered to the outside world via mobile devices. I hate it, but that’s just how it is.”
“Where’ve you been?” he asked, ignoring my diatribe.
“Hiding from the real world. What’s with all the vague messages on my machine?”
“Parker,” he stopped for far too long before continuing, “do you think you can get some information out of either Tommy Claxton or Robert Gregson?”
“I can try.”
“Come to the precinct and bring whatever getup you wore when you infiltrated their ring. The detectives in burglary want to have a word. Once you’re up to speed, you might need to pull some presto-chango, turn into a crook, magic act, and we’ll put you downstairs with the two uncooperative,” he considered what to call them, “offenders.”
