"Kevin," Mike stated into the receiver.
"Mike? Hey, I just heard what happened and I wanted to call and see how you were."
His concern seemed genuine only serving to increase Mike’s irritation. It was almost six and this was the first he’d heard of or from Kevin all day. The coincidence had not gone unnoticed. "Where have you been?"
"What?"
"I asked where you’ve been. I'm having a hard time believing that you just decided not to show up to work during a triple homicide investigation." He walked back to the sofa and picked up the half-drunk bottle of water. He needed the construction crew to stop building a skyscraper in his head.
"I don't understand what you're asking me?"
"It’s a very simple question. Where the fuck were you?" Mike’s physical condition only served to exacerbate his temper.
"I—I was down at the city records office trying to track down any additional information on the three guys. Didn't you see my note?"
"What note?"
"I left you a note on your desk telling you that I would be down there for a few hours and would be back some time after one. I had a lunch appointment and would be back after that."
“You didn’t leave me any note.” Mike barked. He wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder as he lifted the cover of the box from his desk and dumped the contents on the counter. Shuffling through the paperwork he found the note and read, almost verbatim, exactly what Kevin had just said. "Shit."
Kevin didn’t say anything.
"Look kid—"
Kevin cut him off. “I found out something interesting I thought you might want to know."
Mike rubbed his temples, his fingers then progressing across the expanse of his forehead. "I'm not so sure it's a good idea for you to be telling me this under the circumstances. Are you at the station?"
"No. I'm home."
Mike groaned. His brain wasn’t functioning correctly.
“Mike? You still there?”
Mike dropped his hand from his forehead. "Look kid, this isn’t a good idea. I'm suspended remember. You could get into a lot of trouble if anyone found out."
Silence. Then, "fuck it. Do you want to hear what I found or not?"
A small tug pulled the corner of Mike’s mouth upward. The sound of Kevin swearing was so incongruous he almost laughed. Kevin sounded as if he just read the two words from a queue card having never seen or heard them sequentially before in his life. "Alright,” Mike said. “Whad'ya find?"
"Well, apparently Herbert Stanford owns a tire lot down off Pecos. He bought it under the name of John Smith – no points for creativity – and from what I gather there have been a couple of incidences down there that some of the other business owners found a bit disturbing."
"What do you mean disturbing?"
"Nothing specific. The complaints just said disturbing. Considering the location I thought it was worth checking into."
"Anyone go down and check it out?"
"Apparently there was a couple of drive-by's but nothing more than that. I thought I'd drive down there and check it out. Interested?"
Mike hesitated. It was one thing for Kevin to forget about retribution by sharing information but bringing Mike along to check out a potential crime scene was something completely different. He couldn’t tell if the tingling of his skin was from the warning bells of his instincts or the water diluting the proof level of his blood.
"When are you going?" Mike asked.
"I've got something I want to check out first so it will probably be some time around seven."
Mike felt the hairs on his arms stand up. "Why so late?”
“I just want to take care of something first.”
Mike thought about it for a minute and then said, “I'll meet you there."
Kevin gave him the address and they agreed to meet at seven.
“Amigo.” Mike heard the doorbell ring along with knocking as Rudy called his name through the locked door. “Hey Mike, you in there? It’s me. Open up.”
Relieved to hear the only voice he trusted at that moment, Mike opened the door to Rudy smiling brightly, holding a six pack and a pizza.
"It’s about time. I was about to just sit out here and drink all the beer and eat this entire pie without you," he said as he walked in. He jerked his elbow out catching Mike in the stomach as he passed.
"What are you doing here?" Mike asked, relieved and grateful for Rudy’s perfect timing.
"Well, I heard what happened so I decided you might need to be talked down from the roof. I can't tell you how disappointed I am that you're still safe and sound inside." Rudy was in the kitchen putting the beer into the fridge as he spoke. “Holy shit. Looks like I missed the party.”
Following Rudy’s eyes Mike looked over at the evidence of his earlier indulgence. "Yeah, well."
Rudy smiled back at Mike as he removed two beers before closing the refrigerator door. "Verbose as always.”
Mike gave him a wan smile, opened up both beers and took a heavy swallow. The water wasn’t helping so he decided hair of the dog might be in order.
"Seriously man, how you holding up?" Rudy asked.
Mike walked away and stood on the other side of the peninsula. He gave him his back for a few seconds as he thought about what to say until he realized Rudy was the only person whose loyalty and intentions were not in question.
Mike turned and faced his best friend. "I can't believe I fell for it."
"For what?"
"Suzanne.” Mike threw up his arms and walked closer to the counter. He set his hands on the top as he finished. “I can't believe I feel for her story. You were right man. I should have listened to you."
Rudy relaxed as he leaned back against the stove. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Who's to say that I would have behaved any differently given the same circumstances?"
Mike wasn’t ready to cut himself any slack and he wasn’t going to let Rudy cut him any either. He was about to say as much he stopped.
“What?” Rudy asked.
Mike pushed away his beer and went into his bedroom. He washed his face, brushed the stench from his mouth and changed his clothes. He was tired of being played. Loyalties be damned. He would find out the truth one way or the other and if blindly meeting Kevin at some tire dump in the middle of nowhere facilitated that then that’s what he would do.
He walked back out into the living room as he pulled his jacket on.
"Where are you going?" Rudy asked.
Mike stopped and looked at Rudy still leaning against the stove. He didn’t say a word.
Rudy’s head tilted to the side. “You can’t be serious?”
Mike remained silent as Rudy had a one sided conversation with him. “This is crazy. You can’t turn vigilante. No. No. This is insanity. Just because you are no longer limited by your badge doesn’t mean you can go out and exact some self-created revenge theory. No. No way. Mike. Man. This is ridiculous.” Rudy paced the kitchen as he continued the conversation between him and him until his conclusion stopped him in his tracks. He turned and faced Mike. “Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Actually I'm sure that it's a bad idea,” Mike said. “But this may be the only chance I get to clear this thing up.”
“…or get yourself killed.”
“Well, there’s always that.” Mike stared at Rudy as unquestioned friendship and loyalty passed between their focused green and brown eyes.
"I'm going with you," Rudy said.
"What?"
"I'm going with you. It's obvious your judgment has taken a vacation and before you end up getting yourself or someone else killed I think it's time you have a chaperone."
"Speaking of bad ideas, that is probably worse than me going. You can't go." Mike tried to talk him out of it but the look on Rudy's face was resolute.
"We can go together or I'm going to follow you,” Rudy said as he walked toward the door. “One way or the other I'm going. You need someone who is thinking clearly a
nd knows what the hell to do if…when this whole thing blows up in your ugly face.”
Rudy opened the door and looked back at Mike with one of his signature smiles. “Besides, you know you’re nothing without me.”
Chapter 51
The streetlights left sprays of halogen clouds streaking across the sky as if launched from their spires in horizontal races with passing cars. In contrast to the blackness of the evening sky the highway blazed a trail dissecting the city into grids of residential and commercial properties each with a continual low hum of activity.
Mike and Rudy were oblivious to the cool beauty of the desert each focused at the still unseen destination that held the unknown in a greedy turn of the shoulder unwilling to give up its coveted treasure. The drive was both long and short as their increased anxiety filled the car, the open windows giving the only release of the pressure pushing them silently into their cracked leather seats.
At seven fifteen their tires rolled over the gravel drive, the sound of rubber against rock sounded like granola in their mouths. The desolate location nestled between other industrial properties, railroad tracks and an electric power hub humming with voltage rushing through a cluster of spaghetti wrapped towers.
Lights mounted on unadorned wire fences surrounded the ten acre lot, their dull glow chopped by the metal grids covering the florescent bulbs mounted inside their casements. Mounds of blackness rose in discarded heaps, the smell of rubber, oil and metal the only indication of their vulcanized composition. A single, two-story building sat off center in the distance, a single light its only beacon of existence.
Mike parked in front of the chained entrance marked with a heavy black and white sign attached to the left side of the double gate. He looked at Rudy who shrugged in response and they both got out of the car.
Mike looked at his watch and then around the parking lot behind them. Empty.
“What’da think?” Rudy asked as he walked through the headlight beams.
Mike shook his head. “He should have been here by now.”
“Maybe he got caught up?”
Mike hummed his response.
“Should we take a look around while we wait?” Rudy asked.
Mike looked back over the parking lot and walked over to the gate. The car’s headlights gave him the only view into the darkness of the interior. He walked back to the car, opened the trunk and removed two seventeen inch, black Maglites. “Go that way,” he pointed to the right as he handed one to Rudy. “I’ll go this way.”
Rudy nodded then walked away.
“Rudy?” Mike stopped him. “You armed?”
Rudy tapped his shoulder holster, smiled and disappeared into the blackened maw surrounding the lot. The only indication of his location a single bobbing light pointed low to the ground.
They met on the other side.
“Find anything?” Mike asked in a hushed voice.
“Nada.”
“There’s an opening back this way. Should we check it out?”
“Lead on Macduff.”
They made their way through the interior of the lot, tripping over refuse and uncollected remnants scattered throughout the premises like afterthoughts of the disorganized and chaotic. The putrid smell of decaying organic matter and aged rubber wafted through the stacks as oil slicks tracked tentacles through the caliche linking one mass to another.
The single building came into view as they rounded a corrugated shed perforated with rust and the intense odor of human waste. They walked into the smell as if it were an invisible wall both recoiling and covering their faces from the sticky fingers emanating like a cartoon characterization of the wafting scent of limburger cheese. Running through the stench they breathed deeply, the smell of rubber and oil a bouquet in comparison.
Mike turned off his flashlight and Rudy followed as they made their way toward the building. A loud thunk of rubber against metal made Mike stop and turn only to see Rudy with his shoulder up over his ears. The discarded hubcap he accidentally used as a soccer ball waffled as it steadied itself on the ground.
Rudy dropped his shoulders and pointed to the building as the only interior light went out. Then the loud slapping sound of each perimeter light turning off in sequence encircled them like a row of falling dominoes until they stood in the abyss of the unknown, a black hole of decay, disrepair and doom.
Silence overtook them as they stood transfixed, waiting for the confrontation of flesh or metal. But nothing came. The night settled as the crickets chirped and the sounds of scavengers gorging themselves on blight created a symphony of indifference to their presence.
"This isn't good," Mike whispered.
"No shit," Rudy whispered back.
On their drive down Mike filled a giant hole in his theory. Each of the three bodies had traces of tire rubber found either on or near them. It was the perfect place to kill someone. It was remote, isolated and now that he stood in the middle of it, perfectly insulated by the mountains of rubber cascading in charred waves around the lot.
While the realization enlivened him, standing in the middle of the gauntlet was not how he wanted to reach that conclusion. Their presence known and unwanted, his skin prickled with the knowledge that they were both standing in the middle of the killing fields.
"We've got a problem,” Mike reiterated.
"Only one?" Rudy hissed.
"I think this might be where they were killed."
Rudy turned his head. "What makes you say that?"
"It links them all together. There were traces of tire rubber found on or near all three bodies. It's the perfect location. You could probably shoot someone down here and no one would know.”
“That’s reassuring,” Rudy mumbled as he held up his gun and split from Mike as they made their way closer to the building.
Worn and faded asphalt shingles curled at the corners with missing patches across the roof. Years of dirt and grime covered the oversized windows most cracked or missing large segments. The coiled edges of the faded and rusty siding extended outward perfectly poised for gutting the unaware. As the lone indicator of life it screamed of loss and neglect emanating hopelessness from every crusted, deteriorating inch.
Mike pointed to himself and then the door.
Rudy nodded his understanding. With his back against the rusting slats flanking the front door Mike reached over and tried the knob. The door creaked open on hinges barely held together by the flakes of rust caked in thick coats across the metal.
Shards of moonlight cut through the broken windows casting drawn, obsidian shadows through the first floor. The dank interior gaped except for a long wall with frosted panes running across the expanse of the room. Four steel beams in a box formation extended from the bare cement floor to the metal joists supporting the drooping second floor. A stairwell flanking the right side was partially open and faced with mold infested drywall and covered with old, worn floral wallpaper. A lone table and four mismatched chairs were scattered with discarded takeout food containers on the left next to the 1970s kitchen appliances.
But it wasn’t the putrefied take-out that concerned Mike. As rancid as the food was the unmistakable smell of fresh and fetid blood hung heavily in every breath he took. The metallic odor clung to his skin permeating his flesh as if to regain the life it once supported through osmosis.
Mike and Rudy walked around either side of the wall of windows the density of the smells increasing with each step. A long stainless steel table and a collection of other tables centered the second half of the room. Mike turned his head against the smack of decomp held back by the thin veneer of wood and glass. Remnants of human remains lay in gelatinous chunks within the coagulated blood and fecal material covering every surface. Their shoes peeled from the concrete as the sticky residue tried to make them permanent residents.
Pointing to the stairs Mike led Rudy up the creaking steps each sound emitted as if through a megaphone. Mike pushed his back against the wall as he slid up the right side of t
he stairwell with Rudy to the left. Slowly they ascended into the black, gaping hole that was the second floor their breathing low and shallow.
Unlike the dim light given by the windows on the first floors, the second was much stingier with its valuable illumination, keeping the higher location ensconced under the cloak of night. Their visibility extended only to the crumbs wrenched from the porous surfaces of the rotten ceiling and wallboards.
They each took two more steps when a loud crack sounded from the left, the flash from the muzzle transecting the darkness like a lightsaber. Mike fell to the floor and rolled to the right until he banged into the wall. He heard the muffled thud of someone getting hit in the stomach and the whoosh of air forced out of the recipient's lungs.
"Rudy," Mike shouted but got no response.
Another shot tore through the wall behind him showering him with drywall dust and splinters opening up a hole that allowed enough light through for him to see the desk to his left. He scrambled over to it and tipped it on its side.
"Rudy. Talk to me man," he ordered. The only response was the sound of someone running down the stairs bringing him to his feet although he remained crouched behind the desk. “Rujilio you stupid fuck. Answer me,” he yelled this time.
The sounds of groaning came from across the room and the scraping of flesh against dirt covered flooring. "I’m here," Rudy rasped. "I'm, I'm okay."
Relieved Mike asked, "Was there only one?"
"As far as I could tell."
He was still bent over when Mike got to him. "Are you alright?" Mike asked as he helped his friend to his feet.
"Yeah, yeah, I’m alright.” Rudy coughed heavily then spit.
“Can you make it?” Mike asked.
”Yeah. I’ll make it. I’m right behind you,” he said pushing Mike toward the stairs. “Don’t wait for me.”
Mike hesitated.
“Go,” Rudy said.
Mike ran down the stairs and out the wide open door but stopped short unsure which direction to take. For no other reason but instinct he went left through the lot slowing his pace as he quietly made his way back into the pit of discarded and dejected refuse. His breathing was the only sound as the night creatures were silent, disturbed by his presence.
Burdened By Guilt Page 24
