by Jonas Saul
“No, wait for me. I’ll be there shortly. Something else came up that I personally have to tend to.”
“Something else came up that’s more important than family?”
“Yes and no. It is family, but …”
“Your brother’s ID was found at a murder scene. Where would finding ID like this normally lead a homicide detective? So, Bruce, tell me, what do you want me to do? My call to you was a professional courtesy.”
“Listen, my brother didn’t do anything wrong. I’m on my way to meet someone who might know more about this. Also, I know where Jake is and my partner has his hotel under surveillance. Everything’s under control at my end. I will bring Jake in. I just can’t come out to the trailer park right now. As soon as I finish what I have to do and grab Jake, I’ll bring him in. You’ll see us within a few hours, sometime before dawn.”
“Fine, have it your way. I’ll see you at the station before dawn. Just make sure you’re there and Jake is with you.”
The phone clicked off.
Bruce tossed it in the seat beside him.
“Fuck,” he yelled and smacked the steering wheel twice.
Then he turned off the strip and headed west toward the warehouse along the back roads.
Chapter 12
The gun that fired wasn’t the one in the hand of the man with the deep voice. He was down on his knees, trying to hold the blood in his chest as it gurgled out of an open wound. The other two men spun frantically, their guns raised, trying to ascertain where the threat was coming from.
From where Sarah was, she couldn’t see who had shot Deep Voice, but whoever it was, they were an ally.
She wiped the sweat out of her eyes, blinked a couple of times, and peeked around the edge of the aisle.
“We have you surrounded,” she shouted at the two men still trying to find a target. “Set your guns on the ground and kick them away from you.”
The men looked at each other. They stood in the open. Their boss was on the ground, bleeding to death. It was obvious who had the upper hand. Each one set their weapons down, then raised their hands above their heads.
“Kick them away,” Sarah shouted.
Both kicked their guns away at the same time without lowering their hands.
Sarah stepped out from behind the row, her gun held in both hands, and started toward them, keeping an eye on the area where she assumed the gunman was.
Halfway across the distance, sudden movement from Deep Voice pulled her attention to him as he pulled his arm up fast. A shiny metal piece appeared out of thin air.
Sarah dove for the ground. His gun fired twice, both bullets whizzing so close she heard them cut the air by her head.
After smacking the ground on her right shoulder, she twisted toward him and pulled the trigger. The one bullet that exited her barrel hit Deep Voice in his left eye. His head rocked back, blood shooting up in an arc over his head. Then he was laid out on his back and didn’t move again.
In the commotion, the other two men had jumped at the chance to reclaim their weapons. The first men lifted his to aim at Sarah, but she already had a bead on him.
On reflex, borne of years of dealing with these kind of men, she aimed high on his chest and hit the side of his throat. Then she turned slightly for the other guy, but he was running behind a row of fabric and was lost to sight.
A gun fired from that direction.
Sarah got to her feet. “Identify yourself,” she shouted. “Who’s there?”
She kept her breathing under control, only wiping her forehead with the back of her hand to avoid too much moisture in the palm of her hand.
The warehouse was quiet except for the groans of the tortured man still suspended by his feet.
He was still alive. The torture had been stopped.
She moved to the side and stood next to the end of a row. Without knowing who else was in the warehouse, she had to remain cautious. She silently moved to the corner, paused, brought her weapon down and peeked around the edge.
The third man was flat out on the floor, blood circling his abdomen. Down the length of the aisle, a man stood by the door where she had entered the warehouse earlier. The light from an outside security lamp illuminated his face enough for her to see the scar.
It was the man who had warned her to not send the text. The man she had chased by Bellagio who had cried when he asked her not to do it.
A police siren blared in the distance, signaling they would be here any minute.
“Hey,” Sarah yelled at him. “Who are you?”
He stared at her from the door without responding.
“Why are you following me? Why are you helping me? Do I know you?”
The man turned and stepped through the door. Sarah broke into a run down the length of the aisle to the door.
The man was gone.
Headlights turned into the driveway, a red flashing light from the dash of the car. Sarah looked down at the gun in her hand. It was registered to her, but she didn’t want it taken away.
She jumped back in the warehouse as the police car came to a halt outside. One row up, she stashed it between two large rolls of fabric. It couldn’t be seen. Without moving the large rows with a machine of some kind, no one was going to find her weapon.
Then she got on her knees and placed her hands behind her head.
“Police,” a man shouted. “We’re coming in.”
A lone man entered through the door. He saw Sarah and aimed his weapon at her.
“Are you Sarah Roberts?” he asked, the emotion in his voice cracking it.
“Who wants to know?” she asked.
“I’m Detective Bruce Collins.”
“Then yeah, I’m Sarah.”
“What’s the message you have for me?”
“Huh?”
“The message. Aren’t you supposed to tell me something about my brother?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Are you armed?”
“No.”
“What happened here?” Collins asked as he lowered his weapon a little. “Is there anyone else here?”
“Can I put my hands down?”
“Not yet.” He ran over to her. “Stand up.”
She did.
“Turn and lean onto that roll of fabric.”
“Not until I see some ID,” Sarah said. “I’m not turning my back on you until I know you’re a cop.”
He fished out his ID, which Sarah inspected. Then she nodded and turned around, placing her hands high on the roll of fabric.
He rubbed one hand all over her searching for a weapon, but avoided going into the pockets of her pants.
“Is there anything in those pockets I need to worry about?” he asked.
“Can I turn around?”
“Yes.”
She did, and reached down to flip her pockets out. “I’m clean.”
The detective holstered his weapon. “What happened here?”
“There are four men. Three of them are either wounded or dead.”
The detective brought this weapon up again. Sarah raised her hands.
“Hey, take it easy. The area’s secure.”
“What happened? Did you shoot these men?”
“I walked in that door and discovered three men torturing the guy back there that’s tied up.”
“Show me.”
Sarah turned to walk to the back. She knew Detective Collins could see the man at the end of the row by now. She moved to the other side of the torture area so Collins could see the whole thing with her still in his sights.
“Holy shit,” he muttered. “What the fuck is this?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“You did this?” Collins asked.
“Did what? Torture the guy? No. Stop the torture? Yes. Well, with a little help.”
“Help?” Collins looked completely confused.
“Yeah, some guy with a scar on his face came in at the right moment—”
> Collins glared at her. “A scar?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Russell Anderson.”
“Sorry, didn’t get his name. He was in, then out. You know this guy?”
Collins nodded.
He pulled out a cell phone and called the crime scene in.
“What happened?” Collins asked.
“I showed up. They were torturing this guy.” She had to figure out how to give her statement without revealing she used her own gun. Ballistics would figure it out later, but she could be long gone by then. “When I asked them to stop, this one,” she pointed at the guy with the deep voice, “said he was going to shoot that guy.” She pointed at the man with his feet suspended in shackles. “The man with the facial scar showed up out of nowhere and shot him.” She pointed at Deep Voice again. “Then those two wanted to shoot me. The man with scar helped out there, too. This scar guy is an enigma. It’s the third time I’ve seen him tonight.”
“The man with the scar.” Bruce was shaking his head. “You’re saying he was here and he shot these men?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m saying. But he did it in self-defense. Actually, third-party self-defense.”
Collins mumbled something.
“What’s that? You have history with scar man?”
“Doesn’t concern you. Why are you here in the first place?”
More sirens blared outside.
“Long story.”
“We’ve got time.”
“It’s all her fault,” the man suspended by his ankles broke his silence. “Keep her away from me.”
Sarah and Collins turned at looked down him. His feet were covered in blood. Slash marks from a whip covered his naked body. He seemed to be waking from a pain-filled stupor as he stared at Sarah, his eyes wide.
“Keep her away from me,” he shouted again, his voice echoing in the cavernous warehouse.
“Take it easy,” Sarah said. She backed away from the guy to calm him down a little.
“Step aside,” Collins said. “Now, get back down on your knees.”
“What?” Sarah asked. “Why?”
“Just do it.” The cop’s gun came back up.
“I fucking hate this part.”
“What’s that?”
“I did nothing wrong. I stopped these assholes from torturing him. Why you gotta piss on me?”
“I have three men shot in a warehouse. I have a man tied up saying it’s all your fault. I think it’s reasonable that I take you downtown and at least get your statement. That’s the minimum. Or I arrest you for murder right now and we’ll let the courts figure it all out.”
“I just wish I wasn’t late for the torture. Next time I won’t be late and then everything will work out.”
Collins was moving closer as were the sirens outside.
“Late for what?” he asked.
Handcuffs came out of the back of his pants.
“You’re kidding, right? I’ll go willingly.”
“Hands on your head. Do it now.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Listen, I stopped the torture. I’m the good one here.”
“Tell that to the judge.”Collins smacked the cuffs on so hard she winced.
The naked man was mumbling something.
“What was that?” Collins asked as he slipped his weapon away.
“They said they were going to violate me with that broom there,” the man said. Sarah watched Collins’ eyes as he saw the broom. “When I woke earlier, she tossed the broom over here.”
Collins glanced over his shoulder at her. “Stories don’t exactly match. Interesting.”
“Fuck your interesting.”
“Doesn’t help your case.” He looked back down at the bleeding man on his back as officers filed in the side door of the warehouse.
“Back here,” Collins yelled to them.
“I saw her earlier tonight,” the naked man said. “She pulled a gun on me right on the side of the road and made me text a message to someone. That’s why I’m here. All because of her. This whole thing is her fault.”
Collins snuck another look her way.
“Fuckin’ shit,” Sarah mumbled. “That’s what this is.”
Vivian, what gives? None of this makes sense.
“I can’t believe Tyrone is dead,” the naked guy said as he started to cry.
“Tyrone Percy?” Collins asked.
“Yeah, you know him?”
Officers moved into the area, two of them stepping in behind Sarah. No one said anything as they all listened to Collins talk to the naked man. Paramedics entered through the side door with a stretcher.
“Homicide discovered his body.”
“In his trailer?”
Collins nodded. “Yeah. What do you know about it?”
“He killed him.” Naked man pointed at Deep Voice. “Told me about it.”
“See,” Sarah said. “I did you a favor, asshole.”
“Shut up,” Collins shouted at her.
“Some of his men were headed somewhere to pick up the guy who texted me back …”
Sarah stopped listening. Back on the Las Vegas Strip when she made him text the message, she also made him erase the text but didn’t consider the man would text him back.
“That’s it,” Sarah said.
“I thought I told you to shut up,” Collins shouted and turned around to face her.
“Four men left earlier. They were headed to see the man who texted him back.” She nodded at the naked man. “I know where they were headed and now I know why your name sounded familiar.”
Collins moved away from the naked man and walked over to Sarah. “What’s that about my name?”
“Uncuff me and we’ll talk about it.”
“Fuck you. Tell me what I want to know.”
“Fuck you back.” She looked at the floor, knowing she had the power in her hands again.
Collins placed his weapon against the skin of her forehead, pushing her head back. One of the officers on the side touched his arm and asked Collins what the hell he was doing.
“Tell me what you know.”
“Take your weapon out of my face,” Sarah whispered. “Do not point that thing at me unless you intend to use it.” She gritted her teeth. “This will only end bad for you if you go against me.”
“You threatening a police officer?” Collins asked.
“You want to hear about Jake or not?” Sarah said. “I’m assuming he’s your brother.”
Collins pulled the weapon away from her and holstered it.
“I want her in the back of my cruiser, now. She goes downtown with me. No more bullshit from this one.”
Rough arms guided her outside. One of the men opened the back of a cruiser and shoved her inside by the top of her head.
After a thirty-second wait, Collins came outside and headed for the car. He jumped in the front seat and turned to face her.
“Tell me about Jake.”
“Cuffs off first.”
He tossed the keys in the back. She turned in her seat, grabbed them by feel and began working the little key into the hole of the first cuff. In under ten seconds she was uncuffed and rubbing her wrists.
“Start driving.”
He turned the car on. “Where are we going?”
“The New York, New York Hotel.”
“I should have fucking knew it,” Collins said and hit the gas.
Chapter 13
Bruce called Munro on the way to the New York Hotel to let her know he was coming back and he had Sarah Roberts. He warned her that up to four men were on their way, too. They would have a ten- to fifteen-minute head start, which meant they would probably be there at any moment.
“That’s four dangerous men, who were instructed to hospitalize Jake,” Bruce said. “Have you got this?”
“Yes. Got it.”
“Have you seen Jake yet?”
“No. Nothing. He’s probably too afraid to come back down knowing you’re looking for
him. He saw you by the elevator. No doubt about it.”
