“Hey, Pete, that’s all on Missy, dissin’ a righteous brother like Demetri. I’ve been saying all along she was digging her grave by rejecting his offer.” He opened his palm toward Julio. “My man, Pappi, here can tell you.” He then faced him and said, “Isn’t that what I been telling y’all?”
Piotr looked in the mirror again and saw Julio nod. “Well, none of that matters now.” He grinned out one corner of his mouth. “The scientist has graciously accepted our proposal to work for us.”
J cheered and congratulated him, and Julio, who asked, “Who’s the scientist?”
The Polish chuckled, and J answered, “He’s the brain behind X-ibit and the one who’s going to make us rich.”
“Jo-Jo.” Rarely did Julio call him by his other alias. But this was serious. He shifted in his seat and stared directly at him. “Are we talking about the same guy, essé?”
He nodded. “Missy’s ex-CIA chemist.”
A click resonated in the car and drew everyone’s attention to the front passenger. The gun lifted prominently above the arm rest and aimed toward Julio.
“Oh, yeah,” Jo-Jo said. “And, Pappi—we work for Demetri now.”
Chapter Seven
Detective Shine entered the precinct the next day. He passed a few FBI agents leaving, one who thanked him for his contribution to the investigation. Farther along, more officers hailed in high spirits and congratulated him as he headed for his desk. He missed seeing Daniels anywhere in the general area.
Shine took off his jacket and draped it across his chair, stored his phone and keys beside his state-issued gun in a drawer. He then placed the chain of his badge around his neck and the holder covered Warner’s necklace.
“Yo’, Shine!” He turned and recognized Poindexter, from the Blue Ember, standing in the doorway. “Chief wants to see you.”
He slipped into the war room, and Shine felt actual fear set in. A cop? He worried the officer may have seen him with Wilma. What if Poindexter started asking questions about her? Wanted to know what happened to her after they’d gone to the bathroom? Well, how could he talk—the way he rode that full-sized woman on the dance floor?
Shine wasn’t prepared to explain Wilma’s disappearance, let alone confess he turned her into a vampire. He followed Poindexter in and found him and Daniels chuckling it up with Chief Breedlove. “Morning,” he greeted.
“Hey, there he is!” Daniels raised his hand, and Shine high-fived him. “The man who found the source.”
Shine looked confused. “I take it we solved the case.”
Reynolds said, “I swear sometimes it’s like you’re from another world.”
“I heard you were ill,” Breedlove said, “so I wasn’t expecting you today. Since you’re here...” He led Shine to a long table, where the chief sat. “That tip about Schnecke’s desk paid off. She had a kilo of X-bit and a wad of cash hidden behind a panel. We also found the paper trail that tied her to Silverman.”
Shine’s mouth gaped as he thought for a few second. “And, Silverman is?”
“The former CIA chemist gone rogue,” Daniels answered. “He’s the engineer behind X-bit, and the Feds want him bad.”
Reynolds added, “Thanks to us, they can pick him up any day now.”
“Correction, guys,” Breedlove said. “That’s why I brought you three in here.” He exhaled deeply and rubbed his eyes. “Silverman’s gone missing. We’ve done all we can for the FBI and the matter with the Blue Ember Club is closed. But, the larger issue at hand’s still open.”
“And let me guess,” Reynolds responded and crossed his arms. “We’re off the case.”
“Reynolds, listen to me.”
Shine finally had Poindexter’s real name. He was the officer who’d picked up Tynard Simmons when he tried to dump Holt’s body.
“Silverman left the government on bad terms,” the chief continued, “taking some highly classified information with him. A missing agent gone rogue is a top priority for them and out of our hands.”
Daniels groaned as Reynolds argued, “An ex-official is a civilian, Chief. He’s a regular missing person, well within our jurisdiction.”
“You don’t think I brought that up?” Breedlove snapped. “That’s why I was told Silverman’s ranked at the top of FBI’s Most Wanted for a damn good reason.”
Shine asked, “And what was that.”
“Military.”
The officers glanced at one another, and Daniels said, “Military what?”
“That’s all I was told, and that was good enough.” He stood and added, “And it’s enough for you three, you understand?”
Shine shook his head. “Sorry. No, I don’t get it.”
“Well you better get it, here and now. The Feds confiscated all the evidence linking the X-bit case to Silverman. A self-righteous son of a bitch then served me with an injunction to keep quiet. The name Silverman does not leave this room. That’s an order.”
The detectives left the meeting, and Daniels and Shine stopped by the kitchenette for coffee. “Sounds like some kind of government cover-up, if you ask me,” Daniels said while pouring.
“Ain’t it always?”
“Think about it.” He handed the pot to Shine. “If we don’t get to interrogate the scientist, we have no idea how much of that shit is out there. How the hell are we supposed to find out who the distributors are, or how to get addicts treatment?”
Shine nodded while listening and set the coffee down. “Drugs in the inner city is nothing new, so why bother, right?”
“Exactly! Bodies are piling up. When can we expect the government to step in and help?”
“And what the hell does the military have to do with all this?”
Shine stirred sugar in his coffee, and Daniels positioned himself near the door, saying, “It seems as if X-bit was a leaked experiment when Silverman left.” A uniformed officer walked in as he finished, “Whatever it was, it’s over for us.”
“There you are!” The cop moved closer to them and said softly, “News from lockup. Tynard Simmons is staying put.” Daniels and Shine looked at each other as he resumed, “Yeah, he wants to flip on Schnecke, says she was lying before.”
“No shit…” Shine sipped his coffee and the officers chuckled.
“Apparently, he knows the triggerman who took Holt down. The guy works for Schnecke and she ordered him and James Freehold to get rid of the vic.”
“Great,” Daniels said, “got a name?”
The officer shook his head. “Only an alias. J, or Jo-Jo.” Shine choked and spat coffee on his clothes. He rushed toward the sink, nodding when they asked if he was fine. “Anyway, Simmons wants to be cleared of any drug charges for his testimony against Schnecke. Now, we got to find this Jo-Jo character.”
“Thanks,” Daniels said, “leave what you have on my desk.”
Shine cleaned himself off and turned for the doorway. “I’m not feeling as good as I thought.”
Daniels trailed him out and said, “Why don’t you go on home? I got this for now.”
“Yeah, I just want to make a quick phone call, then I’m out.”
While Daniels met up with the other officer to review the file on Simmons, Shine sat behind his desk. He took his mobile from the drawer and pulled up Natasha’s work number. He had no idea what kind of mood she’d be in—he got the distinct feeling she blew him off the last time he visited. If she recognized his number, she might not pick up. He eyed her office number while he dialed from his desk phone.
The woman who answered didn’t sound like Tara. He simply asked to be connected to Natasha and waited until she came on the line and introduced herself.
“Hi, it’s me.”
“Ben, is everything all right?”
She sound okay. “A little sick,” he said, “but I’m heading home soon.” There was a pause, noise in the background. “Can I see you after I leave?”
“No, sorry, I’m up to my neck right now.”
He stretched his legs and r
eclined. “Right, Tara said something about a pharmaceutical case you’re working on.”
“Well, she shouldn’t have,” she replied sharply. “This is a government contract, top-secret, requires all my time and—”
“Oh, I know, I know. I’m in the same boat, baby. Maybe I’m on the other end of the stick, you know? Feds just left today.”
“I doubt that, Ben.”
She feigned a chuckle, and he sat upright and whispered, “No, really, something to do with a drug called X-bit.”
There was a short period of silence again before she responded with a soft voice. “What did you say?”
He knew she heard him. Judging from a click and the lowering of the background noise, he figured she closed her office door. “Yeah, an ex-CIA chemist gone bad and everything. Sound familiar?”
“Ben, you shouldn’t say stuff like that, especially over the phone.”
“Then, let’s meet up.”
“No, I can’t. Listen to me. If we are on the same wagon, you can’t go running your mouth like you do. Keep my name and this company out of whatever you’re investigating.”
She was legitimately worried. Shine bent forward and leaned on his elbows, placing the receiver closer to his mouth. “Natasha, what’s going on?” The phone muffled, and he heard her tell someone she’d be right there.
“I have to go, Ben.”
“Wait—”
“No, I’m needed now. I tell you what. Call me tonight, and we’ll get dinner.”
The line disconnected. Shine hung up, rose from his chair, and picked up his jacket. He moved out into the aisle and stopped by Daniels. “I’m going to pack it in for today, partner.”
“Right, well, you take care of yourself, sir.”
“Thanks. Hey, you need that file with Simmons’ statement?”
“I’m done.” He lifted the folder. “All yours.”
“All right, I’ll give you a ring later, if I come across anything.”
Daniels nodded. “Get better. Don’t overdo it.”
Outside Shine almost doubled over from stomach cramps. He managed to get to the car and behind the wheel without drawing too much attention. The discomfort was identical to what he’d experienced twice so far. He hadn’t tasted blood since the night before, and if what Warner told him was true, he needed to feed…regularly.
He started the engine and looked at the navigation system. Since he botched his last meal by taking a bite out of Wilma... “Let’s try some real food this time.” He put the car in reverse then entered a query for a restaurant, and the GPS gave him a route.
Thirty minutes later, he arrived at a familiar part of town. Shoddy, wooden homes and plenty of brick buildings with transients creeping out—Shiny B, or something similar seemed to have sucked the life out of them.
Gerdy’s Good Eats was near Hillside Housing according to the directions he followed. Detective Shine must have frequented the place; perhaps someone would recognize him, as Tara and the Korean landlady had before he even spoke. He pulled alongside the curb and parked, then got the folder that lay on the passenger’s seat.
Inside Gerdy’s was like most urban food joints: tobacco and grease stains on the tiled walls; a small area with aluminum tables, chairs with padded seats torn, or duct taped. The counter was cased in bulletproof glass, had a small slot for paying and a swivel box for retrieving purchases.
Shiny B walked up to the thick woman at the register and ordered a raw hamburger through the voice-holes in the panel. She didn’t seem to know him.
“You want fries or something to drink with that?”
“No, just the burger.” He slid cash through to her. “Really red.” He got his change, then sat and reviewed the police file.
Tynard Simmons claimed the man he simply knew as J was a ruthless son of a bitch. No hesitation at all when it came to killing Karen Holt. Simmons went on to describe J’s relationship with Marisol Schnecke. How she pretty much gave him free range to carry out all her dirty work, and how he was her willing foot soldier.
That sounded like the natural-born leader Shiny B remembered. He also knew his name was Jones Bernard, born August 5, 1975, lived down the street from him in the “Pork and Beans” district off northwest 13th Avenue.
The last time he saw him was on a stretch of highway in the middle of the night. Shiny B comforted the little girl they took from the house with the red door. He told her they were letting her go—out there by herself in the dead of night—and she’d have to find her own way back.
Shiny B never actually hung out with Jo-Jo after that.
How can Detective Shine disclose information on him without implicating himself? Breedlove and others would ask how he got his data.
“Oh, I was executed and reincarnated as a crime-fighting vampire.”
He shut the folder and turned when a woman’s voice asked, “What you say now?”
“No, nothing,” he told the restaurant’s employee as she handed him a tray, and they giggled.
“Aight, I didn’t peg you as some crazy person. You dressed too nice.” She chuckled and added, “I saw you sat down, so I figured you was eating in.” She gave him a napkin and a couple packets of ketchup.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Enjoy.”
She returned to her station and helped the next customer, and Shiny B eyed his food. He lifted the top bun then removed the wilted lettuce and tomato. He didn’t have to poke the meat to see the blood oozing from the sizzled crust. He picked up the patty with his fingers and took a bite.
Heat in his gut rose as his hunger boiled over. He shoved more in his mouth and, when bits fell out, he scooped it right back up and devoured it like a ravaged dog.
A customer walked away with a paper bag, and Shiny B shot up and barged ahead of a woman entering the restaurant. He was first at the counter and waited for the server to come back from the pick-up station. She was taking too long. He heard his breathing speed up, deepen. His eyelids scraped across the whites of his eyes as he blinked. The employee finally strolled over to take the next order and looked outright—she gasped and screamed.
Shiny B slammed his deformed palm against the glass. “More, raw!” His voice was wrong. He saw his elongated fingers and razor nails then snatched his hand away. “No,” he growled and shielded his face with his arms. He turned and peeked at a line of people behind him. They shrieked and teetered backward as he ran for the door.
A man raised his fists. “Goddamn, that motherfucker ugly!”
Shiny B was already at the car and struggled to get his large, beastly hands in his pockets for the keys. All he could do was rip the material, and they fell on the ground. His claws scratched the street when he grabbed them up, dug into the door as he barely got it open. He got behind the wheel and started the engine, then raced into a lane and cut someone off.
Driving, he pressed the icon for Warner on the GPS. Not yet, Prisoner 23854171.
“Ugh!” He pound the steering wheel and sped through a yellow light as it turned red. “Warner, I need you now!” He smashed his thumb against the screen again and received the same response. “What am I supposed to do?”
He knew he needed to feed regularly. He also recalled Warner telling him he had to learn how to control the Change. Warner ignoring him was a test…had to be. His breath warmed against his lips, his face flushed, and his eyes stung. He was about to cry, something he hadn’t felt since the day he sat in the electric chair and thought about Nana. He released his pain through another short snarl.
“All right, fine.” He selected Home and the system calculated the route.
After a while he made a right turn onto Hillside Avenue and couldn’t bring himself to park in front of the motel. He parked on the corner, turned off the engine, and remained seated.
The thirst for blood was unbearable with people walking around the neighborhood. There were too many potential victims, and no way for him to protect them from himself. He gazed at a short, elderly woman pulling a shopp
ing trolley. She moved so slowly. He could pounce on her at any given time with the determined speed he’d witnessed from Wilma. No one would even notice he’d taken her.
He removed his keys and slipped them between the visor and roof before getting out. He shut his door then hunched his shoulders to hide his appearance. He walked stealthily toward the woman at a snail’s pace. Then he started a jog to build up speed.
She passed the motel’s entrance and was coming toward him. A sprint erupted in his feet. His legs moved faster—faster! The woman kept her head down and wobbled along like a penguin. A surge of energy in Shiny B went through him. It drove him forward with little effort, and wind brushed against his face. This feeling of flight is what Wilma must’ve experienced! He whooshed closer to the woman with his mouth open and ready. His arms instinctively lifted and spread to his sides like a hawk. The movement caught her attention and she looked up.
Shiny B covered his face with his sleeves and left an opening to see. He whizzed past her, kept going, and dodged into the alley beside the motel. He reached the garbage cans and slowed when he slammed against the wall. There, he stood and pressed his forehead against the bricks. Gooey, gel-like saliva dripped from his fangs as heavy breathing took its toll. He turned and slid downward. As he sat on the pavement and tried to catch his breath, the same thick fluid welled from his eyes and wet his cheeks. The tears he felt stinging him earlier finally came.
A cat balanced on a raggedy, wire fence along the next building. He could smell the animal, the warm blood coursing through its body as it arched its back and bristled its fur. It hissed at him. It knew before he did.
With a leap, he sprang from the ground like Wilma had from his trunk. He soared toward his prey the way he would’ve to the old lady. And in the next seconds he had the cat in his mouth—not the elderly woman—and his fangs tore through layers of fur and fat. He scurried to his spot on the ground and mangled the animal, shredding its skin and eating its meat. Satisfaction washed over him as he chomped through its bones and swallowed chunks of his kill.
Blue Door (The Colored Doors Series) Page 5
