by S. D. Tooley
“I ... I have some information I think you might be interested in, Sergeant.”
The hair on her arms rose. “About?” She carried the portable phone upstairs to her bedroom where she stripped out of her shorts and top.
“Your father’s death. I can’t talk now.”
“Then when?”
“Meet me at 1600 Cornell at ten o’clock tonight. And come alone, Sergeant.”
As she listened to the dial tone, bells and whistles went off in her head. A tingling sensation washed over her body. She had pushed Preston’s back to the wall. Maybe Cain was going to turn Preston in. Maybe he had a falling out with his boss. Maybe encompassed a lot of options. But she couldn’t back out now.
Chapter 75
A vacant four-block stretch of industrial sites stood dark and quiet. Litter from what seemed like the entire city appeared to have been sucked into this isolated part of town.
It had flourished years ago. A steel container corporation, roto gravure printing company, steel tubing company. All either gave way to new technology or were the victims of cheap, overseas labor.
She had heard the property was being rezoned for a golf course community. Anything would be better than the haven it had been for the homeless, drug addicts, and four-legged creatures. The homeless had moved on. The drug addicts had been cleared out. But the creatures, four-legged and furry, big and small, were in abundance.
Shadows moved along the edges of the building as Sam inched her Jeep to the end of the block. Every nerve ending in her body was dancing a jig. A voice in her head told her to turn the Jeep around and drive out of there. She checked the address again on the side of the warehouse. It stood dark and abandoned, windows broken, weeds snaking up the sides of the building. Pressing the button on her pen light, she checked the address on her notes, then checked her watch. It was ten o’clock.
She pulled around to the side of the building. A patrol car sat in the middle of the parking lot. She breathed a sigh of relief. After backing her Jeep up to a freight door, Sam checked her Glock 26 9mm and shoved it into the pocket of her jump suit.
The tightness in her chest from her encounter with Jake had ceased with Cain’s phone call. It had now been replaced with a persistent pounding. Walking cautiously along the concrete drive, she looked for movement in or near the squad car. Her black clothing helped her blend into the shadows. One dim bulb on a building across the street did little to help her view of the dark lot.
Pulling her gun from her pocket, she carefully took the safety off. Staying in the shadows, she made her way around the back of the building. Darkness stared back at her from the scum-and-soot-covered windows. She pressed her back against the building and listened for several minutes. A kite, caught in the burned-out bulb of a street light, flapped softly in the breeze. Birds flitted in and out of the windows of the steel container corporation across the street. The thought crossed her mind that birds don’t fly at night, or do they? Or were those bats she was seeing?
A cold chill shot up her spine. Her eyes finally adjusted to the dark. Slipping her gun hand into her pocket, she slowly approached the patrol car. The driver’s side window was rolled down. A notepad and clipboard lay on the passenger side. The radio, a cop’s lifeline to headquarters, was turned off. Her eyes scanned the top floors of the warehouse. Suddenly, she felt like an ideal target, out in the open with only the car to shield her.
“Anyone here?” she called out. Slowly she walked around the back of the car, her eyes scanning the dark, the buildings across the street. When her foot touched something by the passenger side, the adrenaline rushed through her body. Tiny pulses of electricity raced up her spine, lifting the hair off the back of her neck. Run, a voice in her head screamed.
The body of the police officer was lying face down on the gravel-pitted pavement. She felt his neck for a pulse. Nothing. Sam reached through the opened window for the radio. Ping. She ducked as a bullet shattered the front windshield.
“Don’t even think of calling for backup,” a voice in the darkness called out.
Sam peered over the side mirror, her eyes searching the building for shadows, the upper story of the warehouse for movement. “I thought you wanted to talk, Cain?” Tightening the grip on her gun, she moved forward, toward the front of the car only to be met with another barrage of gunfire. To remain here was suicide.
Think before you act. Jake’s words nagged inside her head and she hated the fact that he was right. She had held a faint hope that Cain really did want to give up Preston on a silver platter. Maybe had proof that Preston was the mastermind behind Hap’s and her father’s deaths. Maybe that Cain wanted to testify against Preston in exchange for a lesser charge.
“I AM talking,” the cottony voice yelled back. It was followed by more bullets riddling the front of the car, flattening the tires.
He’s aiming for the gas tank, Sam told herself. The damn car is going to blow up.
Suddenly, the air was filled with the odor of oil and gasoline. A small stream was etching its way across the pavement. A maniacal laugh sliced through the air. She couldn’t chance returning gunfire. Instead, she bolted, away from the car, away from the warehouse. A spray of bullets stalked her retreat, followed by an explosion. A blast of hot air picked her up and tossed her to the ground like a match stick. Her gun, which she had thought was gripped firmly, popped out of her hand on impact.
As she rolled her body away from the car, she made a mental assessment of bodily damage. She could still breathe — no broken ribs. Her brain didn’t register any excruciating pains.
As soon as she tumbled to the safety of the corner of the building, she jumped to her feet in time to see a second explosion lift the back of the patrol car. Her hand slapped against her chest, feeling the bulk of her medicine bundle beneath her jump suit.
Once she reached the safety of her Jeep, she didn’t feel very safe. Panic gripped her like a winter deep-freeze. Her hand shook as she turned the keys in the ignition.
As she drove off she heard the faint sounds of sirens in the distance. She reached across the seat for her cellular phone but it wasn’t there. Leaning over, she patted the floor on the passenger side, then under her seat.
The thought that Cain took it, that he had been in her Jeep became apparent. A new sensation overcame her fear. It wasn’t just the panic that gripped her. This was different, and it was over-powering. She felt the overwhelming sensation of impending doom ... death.
Cain stood and watched the inferno with immense satisfaction. He smiled as Sam’s tail lights faded in the distance. There were so many innovative ways to make a bomb these days. Not like the dynamite he had used on Samuel Casey’s car. Today there was plastique. It was efficient, clean. And by setting a heat sensor on the thermostat, his victim’s Jeep would be miles away before it blew up.
Walking toward the burning police car, he picked up Sam’s gun with a gloved hand. The heat from the explosion was intense. The officer’s uniform was smoldering but the sounds of the sirens told Cain that the fire would be put out soon.
“Just can’t trust these cops nowadays.” With a smile, he pointed Sam’s gun at the officer’s back and fired three times.
Chapter 76
“I’ve made several copies. Study his face carefully.” Preston passed Cain’s picture to the three security guards, copies of the picture Sam had left with him. “You can check with Chief Murphy if you want. This man is suspected in the possible murder of a Korean War veteran in Dallas and the MIA whose body was found recently in a concrete overpass. He’s been seen in Chasen Heights and I could be his next target.”
The three guards were former mercenaries who had trained with the Secret Service. Preston had used them in Springfield when he had received numerous death threats after introducing a bill to end welfare as we know it. On the surface, his argument for the bill had basis. There were almost ten thousand alcoholics and drug addicts receiving Social Security benefits. Preston had argued that all they di
d was take their checks to the nearest bar or drug dealer.
But Preston actually was targeting the black inner cities. He had made a statement to a close friend that welfare to the blacks was nothing more than a way for them to receive monetary restitution for years of slavery suffered by their ancestors. He hadn’t realized the cameras were rolling.
The guards were well-trained and heavily armed with Ruger police carbines, Stealth C-1000 9mm handguns, laser sightings, and night vision glasses. They would spend the night patrolling the grounds.
Two of the guards referred to the taller one as, “Sergeant.” Sergeant Cowles passed out walkie-talkies to his men instructing them what channel to use. They were dressed in dark jumpsuits and combat boots.
“This man is armed and dangerous,” Preston continued. It was unfortunate, but Preston couldn’t leave any witnesses behind. The only other person who had seen Cain in the house was Juanita. This morning he sent her back to Mexico on a one-month vacation. In a week, he would send her a telegram informing her that her services were no longer needed.
“How do you want us to handle it, Sir,” Sergeant Cowles asked.
Preston tilted his head up in a condescending posture and replied, “Do whatever needs to be done.”
Having left his fortress under the protection of Cowles and his men, Preston retreated to his study. He flipped the master switch on his computer just as the phone rang.
“Avery, it’s about time you returned my call.” Preston said. “The baseball cards were a nice touch, but really. Couldn’t you have tossed in a Babe Ruth?”
“I don’t believe you have any more than one set of those pictures, Preston. I will not resign nor will I ever endorse you. So don’t try to ...”
“Shut up. I don’t give a damn what you believe.” The cursor on the computer ran down the menu to the lock and key icon. Preston clicked the mouse. “I do have to admit, though, I didn’t think you’d have the balls to hire someone to steal them. Now, I want you to listen carefully.”
A rectangular box appeared on the screen with one question, Do you wish to execute program? Yes - No. Preston placed the cursor on Yes and clicked it once. Executing, the screen flashed. A time clock appeared in the lower right hand side. At the press of a button it would begin a countdown preset by Preston. He had given it a release time of seven in the morning. Enough time for the press to review it before his speech. Once released, the time could not be altered or canceled.
“Did you hear that, Avery?” Preston leaned back, a triumphant smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “That’s the sound of your career crashing and burning.”
Chapter 77
Jake stood with one foot on the patio and one in his living room. The hot shower and a cigarette hadn’t done much to remove the emptiness he felt. Except for a green banker’s light on the desk, the apartment was dark. He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there, barefoot, clad only in a pair of jeans, but he knew he was on his fourth cigarette.
He watched his neighbor, Cyrus, pulling his poodle, Jellybean, by a leash. Jellybean wanted to stop and smell every blade of grass but Cyrus was up way past his bedtime. Jake flicked the cigarette butt over the railing.
Carl had finally reached Jake to tell him about Sam’s visit. A little too late, Jake had thought. At least if Jake had had some forewarning ... but it still didn’t change anything. The what ifs, and only ifs, weren’t going to make Sam understand. Maybe if he had told her he loved her. Maybe if he could have pulled those unfamiliar words from his mouth. They were there, on the tip of his tongue, unused during his entire thirty-four years. Sam was the only woman who tried his patience. She was so stubborn sometimes he could shake her. But she had Abby’s strength, beauty, loyalty. And he wanted her so bad sometimes he couldn’t think straight.
If it were any other woman, he would have shrugged it off. He had never lost his head or heart to a woman before. He had never wanted to fight for anything in his life before. Not his job with the Bureau, not for the salvation of his family life as a youth. He wouldn’t even fight for his badge. If Murphy wanted it, he could have it. Sam was that lone exception. All he could do now was let her cool down, maybe talk to Abby in the morning. Have her intercede on his behalf.
First, Carl needed his help in the morning. Even Carl had found it difficult to explain how Sam derived all that she did by merely touching the file folder. But it was enough to convince President Whittier that Sam could do some major damage to his political career.
Preston’s speech was going to take an exciting twist tomorrow, thanks to Sam and Tim. Without going into too much detail, Sam had explained to Carl what Tim had replaced in Preston’s computer program. Carl wanted Jake and Frank to join him at the Jenkins Art Center.
Sam raced her Jeep down a residential street. She didn’t know why she took this turn. It was another ten minutes to her house. Her thoughts kept racing back to Cain and Preston. The sense of impending doom was so strong, it overpowered the scent of burning fuel that had filled her nostrils back at the warehouse.
Chills racked her body. She felt something else maneuvering the Jeep, some force steering the vehicle to a safe place. She pulled up in front of an apartment complex and looked up at the three-story building. The address was familiar although she had never been there before. It was Jake’s apartment building.
When Jake opened the door, Sam’s heart crept up into her throat. He looked good, damn good. All the old feelings resurfaced. She vaguely remembered that they had argued, but she couldn’t remember why, wasn’t sure if it was something more significant than the feeling of death.
A rush of tears filled her eyes as the sensation that she would never see him again overwhelmed her. Her life was hanging in the balance and she hadn’t made proper arrangements for Abby.
She stumbled through the doorway pleading, “Promise me, Jake. If anything happens to me, promise me you’ll take care of Abby.”
But he didn’t answer. He pulled her into the room and slammed the door shut. His hands plunged into her hair snapping off the banana clip. Covering her mouth with his, his fingers found the zipper of her jumpsuit. She returned his kiss in desperation, her hands helping to strip his clothes away.
Their passion was fueled by the erotic images that had plagued their dreams. Sam needed to feel his touch, feel their bodies entwined.
“Sam,” Jake whispered.
“Don’t talk,” she whispered back. “Just make the first one quick.”
Jake lowered her onto the rug right in front of the door amid discarded clothing. There were no apologies for what had happened earlier, no discussions or explanations. Feelings dominated. It was lust, passion, and love knowing no boundaries.
Through the opened patio door, among the drone of cars on the street and Jellybean yapping, the sound of a hawk could be heard screeching in the night.
Jake’s breathing was slow and deep as he lay behind Sam in bed, his arms wrapped around her tightly. Sam reached up with her right arm and ran her hand up to his shoulder. Every cell in her body still ached for him.
The feeling of impending doom had passed, eclipsed by the love and safety she felt in Jake’s arms. She pressed her cheek against his warm skin, his body heat radiating. She wished she could stay just like this forever, in Jake’s arms.
She looked at the leather and turquoise bracelet Jake had slipped on her wrist. She in return had given him her medicine bundle. They had exchanged possessions after offering them to the four directions. It was tradition.
There was one more custom Jake didn’t know. When two people are married, if one of the spouses dies, it’s up to the other to take care of the in-laws.
She drew his arms around her even tighter and whispered, “Now you HAVE to take care of Abby.”
Chapter 78
Cain pulled into the back parking lot of an all-night restaurant just a block from Preston’s house. He never parked on Preston’s premises, always walked around to the side of the estate and through
the opening in the fence used by the landscapers.
He was puzzled that he hadn’t heard on his police scanner about the car bomb. The thermostat on the Jeep should have reached the required temperature in fifteen minutes. But the delay might work to his advantage.
For a large man, he moved silently through the shadows. In the distance, he saw lights on in Preston’s bedroom. Cain would pick up his money and go back to his motel room. As far as he knew, his job here in Chasen Heights was complete.
As Cain crossed the parking lot, he saw movement in the trees. He stopped to watch and listen. The movement stopped. Maybe it was Jasper walking the dogs, but he would have heard the dogs bark by now. About fifty yards south of the first movement, he saw a second one.
Slowly, he pulled out his .357 Magnum from his hip holster and moved deeper into the shadows. The full moon slid behind a large cloud. In the distance, he could hear the bubbling of the fountain in the flower garden.
Cain moved from one tree to the next, stopping to listen, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. The moon made an appearance from behind a cloud. When a figure darted out of the light, Cain made his move.
“STOP WHERE YOU ARE! a voice yelled.
Cain was bathed in spotlight. He aimed and fired.
It took four shots to bring Cain down. Cowles and his men approached the fallen man carefully. Cowles felt for a pulse, looked at his men and said, “Good job.”
Upstairs in his bedroom, Preston sat up in bed re-reading his speech for tomorrow morning. When he heard the gunshots, he snatched his reading glasses off and smiled broadly. He picked up the phone and made a call. But this call wasn’t to Captain Murphy.
