Deliver Us From Darkness: A Suspense Thriller (Mitch Tanner Book 3)

by L. T. Ryan

  “But that’s something you could help with.”

  She glanced toward the sky. “Like I said, he doesn’t trust me yet.”

  “What else could he have been hiding?”

  “Lavelle?”

  “Braxton.”

  “Oh, well, it would come down to Liliana having some knowledge that could break the case open. He might choose to keep that to himself for the time being because he hasn’t tied it to the disappearance. I mean, if she knew what happened, what are the chances she’d come out and say it.”

  “Slim, unless he has something on her. The kind of thing he could use against her and ruin her life even more.”

  Bridget pointed at me. “Right, so perhaps he was working to dig up some dirt that he could use to negotiate with her.”

  “That’s something I’d do.”

  “Me, too.” She leaned in closer and smiled. “Speaking of…”

  I felt a pinch in my gut. “Uh, I don’ t like the sounds of this.”

  Bridget laughed. “Dammit, I can’t do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Well, Sam—“

  “That’s all you gotta say. Whatever he said or sent you, it’s photoshopped.”

  “Sure it is.” She rolled her eyes and squeezed my shoulder. “Come on, let’s go in. Dinner’s about ready.”

  I peeled off my coat as I stepped in from the frigid temperatures. A fire popped and cracked and radiated heat across the living room. I stood in front of it for a few minutes, rubbing sensation back into my hands and cheeks. The aroma coming from the kitchen caused my stomach to clench with hunger.

  “Smells good. What’d you made?”

  She looked up from slicing the roast on the island. “Old family recipe from my great grandma.”

  “Your great grams had a crock pot?”

  “You really don’t know much, do you?” She stabbed a few slices and plated them, topping the meal off with broccoli and sweet potatoes. “Come on, sit over here.”

  I followed her to the table while inhaling the smell of the food, her, and the fire. The day’s stress faded, replaced with a feeling of relaxation that didn’t come along often. In fact, the last time I’d felt this relaxed was when I was with Bridget on the other side of the country.

  The conversation died, replaced with the clatter of forks and knives and the occasional popping of the fire. We looked at each other out of rhythm, neither of us willing to hold the other’s gaze for more than a few seconds. It was comfortable and tense at the same time.

  “I’m really glad you came out,” she said after a lengthy silence. “Not for the reason you came out, obviously.”

  “Same here.” I set my fork and knife down, wiped the grease off my lips. “Actually, I’m not unhappy about the reason I’m here. This is the closest I’ve been to my son in ages.”

  “You really feel that he’s still here?”

  “I know the odds say he isn’t. That Marissa had a moment of weakness and let him write and send that postcard because they were on their way out of town.”

  Bridget didn’t respond. The look on her face, her lips drawn tight, how her nods were terse, I could tell she felt Marissa and Robbie were far from Denver.

  I cleared my throat and continued. “But I’m glad to be here with you, Bridge. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” She finished her wine and pinched the glass base between her thumb and forefinger. “Ever since I boarded that plane, sometimes I wish…”

  “You had to take the job. In fact, I wouldn’t have let you stay. Not for me. Believe me, I’m not worth giving up your dream for.”

  “You’re worth a lot more to me than you realize.”

  We sat there for a few moments, each of us with a half-smile, our gazes locked. I felt the warmth from the wine rise through my chest, throat, and face.

  “Let’s get this cleaned up,” she said.

  Perhaps we’d taken it too far.

  I took the plates to the sink and helped her wash them. The entire time, her hip pressed against mine. She pulled out her phone and a few seconds later, music filled the house. Soft, sultry jazz. I wiped my hands clean, turned, pulled her in.

  “Really think we can do this?” Her lips were mere millimeters from mine. Our noses almost touched. Her stare was intense.

  “I think so.” My arm had found its way to her lower back. I pulled her closer until there was no space left between us. Our lips brushed together for a moment. Then again. And again.

  And then her phone rang. She ignored it, but I couldn’t. Not with that ringtone. I glanced at the device and knew the person on the other end of the line did not have good news.

  10

  Bridget lifted the phone, ready to dismiss the caller without looking to see who it was.

  “Should probably answer that.” I let my hands drop from her waist, my fingertips trailing a few inches too far.

  She sighed while resisting my attempt to pull away from her. “Do I have to?”

  “Crime never sleeps.”

  She rolled her eyes while shaking her head at the awful line. The phone stopped ringing, but right as her smile crept back into place, it started again. Her chin dropped to her chest as her arms fell off my shoulders.

  “Braxton? At this hour?”

  I shrugged. “Might’ve taken him a while to get to Liliana’s place.”

  “That was hours ago, though. You were there. Should’ve been an in and out job.” Her lips flapped as she exaggerated her exhale. “Guess I gotta.” She answered the phone and placed it on speaker. “Braxton, what’s up?”

  “You guys run into this big guy here by name of Delgado?”

  Bridget raised an eyebrow. On the way home, we’d discussed that the Delgado kid probably knew more than he let on. Had Braxton managed to break him when we couldn’t? From what I knew of the detective, he’d never let Bridget live that down. Me either, I supposed.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Lives a few apartments down.”

  “Have any interaction with him?” Braxton asked.

  “Enough to know he lives a few doors down.” She bounced her head side to side as if to say, give up the info, man. “You must’ve gotten something from him, yeah?”

  “Not quite.” There was a long pause while Braxton exhaled. “Uniforms got there, stood guard. Forensics arrived before me and began processing. No biggie, they know what not to disturb. And really, there wasn’t much there for me, anyway.”

  “Right, place was pretty empty,” she said. “Did you find anything we missed?”

  “Maybe, but that’s not what this is about.”

  I felt the tiny gnawing return to my gut, only this time, it expanded rather rapidly.

  “What is it, Braxton?”

  “After we got out of there, we locked the place up, taped it. You know, made sure we’d know if someone entered.”

  “Did Delgado enter?” Bridget fumbled through a drawer for a pen. “He expressed concern over Ms. Marin’s disappearance.”

  “What did he say?” Braxton asked.

  Bridget looked over at me. I shook my head. This wasn’t time to give up the little info we had. Not until Braxton told us the point of the call.

  “Look, Braxton, just tell us what’s going on.”

  “I ran into him as well. He asked if we knew where Marin was or what had happened to her. He mentioned some guy coming around recently. A few weeks ago, this guy and Marin got into it. You know how it is in a place like this. Thin walls, and all. He stood in the hallway and heard everything. Waited for the guy to come out. Planned on pouncing on him.”

  Bridget furiously scrawled on her notepad. “Did Delgado place Lavelle there at the time of an argument?”

  “Nah. Said things took a turn for the romantic, so he backed off and went back to his apartment. Showed him a picture of Lavelle, but he didn’t recognize him. It’s a long shot, of course. Just because she was hooking up with Lavelle didn’t mean she wasn’t
seeing someone else too.”

  Everything he said made sense. Liliana Marin was involved with a married man, but we knew nothing of her intentions toward him, nor his towards her. She easily could have been seeing someone else. The man coming over could’ve been a previous boyfriend who showed up time to time.

  Bridget finished writing down the new information. “Okay, this is all great, but we still don’t know who was in her apartment.”

  “Oh, we know.” Braxton paused a beat, cleared his throat. “At least we think we do.”

  “Who?”

  “The same guy that put the Delgado kid in the hospital after we left.”

  Bridget flew down the highway with her dashboard strobe lights on. The long line of red lights snaking ahead parted like the sea, mostly giving us a lane to ourselves. Occasionally, someone texting or just not paying attention remained in front of us for a few seconds too long. Often, they’d realize the cops were behind them and they’d jerk the wheel to one side or the other, almost causing a collision.

  “Damn place is spread too far apart,” she said.

  “Isn’t every major metro area?”

  Bridget shrugged. “Only care about this one right now.”

  “That was good of Braxton to keep us in the loop.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Don’t trust him?”

  “Do you?”

  “Gun to my head?”

  “Sure.”

  “No.”

  “Me either.” She worked her way into the exit lane, weaving around braking trucks and SUVs and a small Honda. Hardly anyone driving a sedan was out tonight, it seemed.

  “So why would he bring us in on it?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “He was stuck and wanted to see what we might have.”

  “Why do you keep asking questions you know the answer to?”

  “Need to keep you on your toes, don’t I?”

  She ignored my response. Instead, she pointed at the hospital a couple of blocks away. “Not sure if I’m going to be able to get you into the room, given your current status.”

  “Think they’ll check?”

  “I know they will.”

  “No biggie. I’ll try to get some more info out of Braxton. You know he’s hiding something.”

  She found a parking spot close to the entrance. Inside, we were given directions to Delgado’s room and told he had just come out of surgery so don’t expect to see him anytime soon. When I smiled and said of course, the woman gave me a look that made my knees a little weak, like she was a mama bear and any and all patients were her cubs. It was so intense, I didn’t realize Bridget was halfway down the hall until she called for me to rejoin her.

  “The hell happened there?” Bridget asked.

  “That woman,” I said. “Something about her.”

  Bridget smiled. “Well, ask her out after we’re done here. Okay?” She didn’t wait for my response before turning on her heel and pushing forward until we reached a set of elevators. We rode to the third floor.

  Braxton spotted us first.

  “Bridget, over here.” He was buffeted by another detective and a couple of uniformed officers. Three teenage girls were crowded onto two seats. They had Manny Delgado’s face, but a quarter of his heft.

  “Braxton,” I said. “Thanks for bringing us in.”

  He shook my hand, but kept his intense gaze focused on Bridget. “I brought Dinapoli in. Not sure what you’re doing here, Tanner.”

  “He’s with me and you’re gonna cut out this pissing contest right now.”

  I lost the battle with a snicker that drew a few stares in my direction.

  She poked me in the chest. “That goes for you too, Tanner.” Her words had the intended effect. Braxton and I went back to our respective corners. Bridget continued. “Now, what’s the status on Delgado and when can I question him?”

  Braxton held up a hand. “He just got out of surgery. A minor one. But still surgery. Once the anesthesia wears off, we can see him.”

  “So you haven’t yet?”

  “Nope. Everything I’ve said so far is based on the statement of one witness who didn’t see that much.”

  “Typical.” She stood in the middle of everyone, hands on her hips, head tilted back, gaze on the ceiling. “We go in together then, the moment he can be seen.”

  “I can work with that,” Braxton said.

  “And I want Tanner in there with us.”

  “Now wait a minute. I know you two are buddies, and he’s out here helping you, but I gotta draw a line somewhere, and that somewhere is a suspended burned-out homicide detective from Philadelphia.”

  He’d done his homework on me. It was expected. I’d have done the same if he had showed up at my station.

  “You don’t know the facts,” I said.

  “What facts do I need to know? They just hand out suspensions like Halloween candy in Philly?”

  “There’s things that happened, and you—“

  “Enough.” Bridget held her arms out, fingers aimed at both of us. “Tanner comes in to observe but doesn’t say a word. Got it?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  Braxton shook his head as though he couldn’t believe the crazy he was dealing with. “Fine, I’ll allow it. But one word out of you, Tanner, and you’re out. Got it?”

  “Sure, man. Whatever.”

  A flurry of activity at the nurses' station caught our attention. A code blue was called. It didn’t take long to figure out where in the hospital, as a host of nurses and doctors rushed our way.

  The confusion lifted from Braxton’s face first. He pushed past us and got in the way of a doctor.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, watching the team spill into Manny Delgado’s room.

  “Detective, you’re gonna have to get out of our way.”

  “Why? What the hell happened?”

  The doctor got past Braxton, but the detective wouldn’t quit. He followed them to the threshold, and it took two nurses to push him back so they could close the door.

  Braxton turned toward us, his face pale and drawn. “Delgado’s coded.”

  11

  The organized chaos of Manny Delgado’s code blue subsided quickly. The lingering effects of the adrenaline rush we felt—that we all felt—left everyone looking about ten years older. The staff didn’t want a nineteen-year-old kid dying. We wanted him alive to find out what else he knew.

  The doctor who spoke with Bridget and Braxton indicated Delgado was stable, but not out of the woods quite yet. The crash had resulted from injuries he sustained. Couldn’t help but wonder if they had missed something. Had there been an underlying injury they missed?

  It would be morning at the earliest before they allowed Manny to be interrogated. And considering his jaw had been wired shut, it would be a long interview. We had several questions for him. Most important of all was who did this.

  Braxton had a couple of uniforms working the streets in the area, and a request had been put in to get any nearby surveillance feeds. It needed approval, and people didn’t seem to care about a nineteen-year-old almost beaten to death. At least, not when he came from that section of town.

  We were outside with Braxton while he took a smoke break. He was talking about calling it a night when his phone rang. He excused himself and strode about twenty steps away, taking himself out of earshot.

  I leaned my head back and stared up at the falling snow. Flakes landed on my face and melted against my skin, creating little creeks that wrapped around my stubble. When the wind gusts whipped up, it felt like those water trails iced over.

  “Having fun?” Bridget watched me with a tepid curiosity.

  “Just passing the time.” I looked back up at the sky. “You should try it.”

  “You act like you’ve lived in Miami your whole life.”

  “Why Miami?” I wiped my face on my jacket’s fleece lining and met her gaze. “Plenty of other places that never get snow.”

  �
��First thing that came to mind.”

  “Why, though? Spent time there?”

  “A little. What’s it matter? Jesus, Tanner.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Braxton. “Act like you’ve never been out of Houston.”

  “There,” I said. “That’s better. But why Houston?”

  She stood there, shaking her head with a partial smile. “You’re so goddamn annoying.”

  “Well, I gotta tell you. I prefer working with Sam.”

  “I do, too.”

  “Nice burn.”

  She faked a bow as Braxton pocketed his phone and jogged back over to us.

  “I know we were talking about hanging it up,” he said.

  “They caught one of the attackers,” I said.

  He nodded. “You guys up for it?”

  “Gonna let me join in?” I asked.

  He glanced at Bridget, then back at me. “This one time, Tanner. Only this one time. You’ve hung in there with us. I’ll give you this.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “But listen to me.” He waggled his index finger at me like a cartoon pistol. “You let me lead. If you got something you want me to ask, write it down. Got it?”

  “This is your show, boss. Just here for support.”

  His keys reflected the orange glow of the streetlights as he pulled them out. “Follow me to the station.”

  Bridget and I hurried to her car. We caught up to Braxton at the exit stoplight. I shrugged off my jacket and used my hands to direct the heat toward my chest.

  “You’re okay with helping on this?” Bridget asked.

  “Sure. Why?”

  “It’s taking time away from your real purpose here.”

  My hands fell to my lap. My stare followed. “What do I have to go on besides that postcard? Yeah, we can tell the general area from where it was sent, but that’s all. I know my heart tells me he’s here…”

  Bridget waited a few beats, then said, “But?”

  “My gut says I’m a fucking idiot.”

  The light turned green, and Bridget had to pin the pedal to the floor to keep up with Braxton. Good thing it was late, and the streets were empty.