Thick Fog (Alexis Parker Book 18)

by G. K. Parks

  “What?” Moretti asked.

  “He’s not here.” I copied down the address from the GPS. “Process the car. Process the scene. Let me know if you find anything.” I tapped on my phone, scanning for WiFi networks, but I didn’t find any. Visually, I searched for security cams, but nothing popped up. This was a blind spot. Steele must have known that. “Steele switched vehicles. That would explain why the blood trail just stops right there.”

  “All right. I’ll bite. Any idea where he’s headed?”

  I had no idea. We hadn’t found anything at the Black Cat, but maybe I overlooked something. Maybe Steele left a calling card where he grabbed Lucca. Or maybe my mistakes had caused another good agent to lose his life. The pressure in my chest threatened to collapse my heart. “I wish I knew.”

  Moretti patted my cheek. “Don’t lose it on me, Parker. Lucca needs you.”

  “Right.” I watched officers search nearby containers, walk a grid looking for clues, and question anyone they spotted nearby. Lucca’s not here, my inner voice said. Stop wasting time and find him.

  “I’m going to retrace their steps. Lucca tried to tell me something, but I don’t know what it was. Maybe there’s something at Aronne’s or the Black Cat that we missed.”

  “Go. I’ll tell O’Connell you’re on your way.”

  While violating every traffic law known to man, I phoned Cross, hoping he could provide a miracle. But there weren’t any surveillance cameras covering the underpass where Steele left the car. And there was nothing near the wharf, which I already knew by checking for networks. Cross promised to check cell towers and run numbers again, but by the time he got anything back, Lucca would be dead, if he wasn’t already.

  Slamming on the brakes, I shoved the car into park, leaving half of it blocking one of the lanes, and got out. My mind replayed the video. I couldn’t see much except Lucca and Steele. At the time, I didn’t know where they were, but now I knew they had been in the back seat beneath the overpass. Immediately after making the call, Steele had dragged Lucca from the car, presumably into another vehicle. Where could they have gone? The Marshals set up a perimeter, but it might have taken too long or it included too large of a span. We’d never search everywhere in time.

  “Parker,” O’Connell waved me over, “we found blood.”

  “More blood?” I knelt down, eyeing the spatter on the sidewalk. Based on the trajectory, Lucca had been hit hard with something which sent droplets flying several feet in the air before landing. “Scuff marks.” I pointed.

  “Lucca put up a fight,” O’Connell said.

  “He needs to keep fighting.” I followed the scuff marks to the curb directly in front of an empty parking space. From here, I looked around, wondering where Steele would choose to wait and watch. This wasn’t a great neighborhood, so there were plenty of boarded-up buildings. Still, Steele would have to be close enough to cover the distance and launch a surprise attack without Lucca noticing. He couldn’t have been more than fifty feet away. That narrowed things.

  “We’ve been asking the neighbors and shop owners if they saw anything,” O’Connell said. “No one’s talking.”

  “Big surprise.” Steele couldn’t have come from the other direction because Lucca would have seen him. He had to have come from behind. “There.” I pointed to a few boxes and some pop-up tents in an alley where several homeless had congregated. “Have you talked to them yet?”

  “They didn’t see anything.”

  I gave O’Connell a look and went across the street, digging out my wallet as I went. Only two people remained, zipped safely into their tents. Boxes near the front with piles of rubbish and personal property had been left unattended, though I couldn’t figure out exactly why.

  I tried speaking to the man missing four of his front teeth, but he didn’t know anything or see anything. He just wanted to go back to sleep. From his slurred speech and the smells coming from him, I didn’t think he was sober enough to remember much of anything. The other person, a younger guy with a dirty beard and bright eyes, remembered someone new near the front, but he thought the guy was a panhandler.

  “Did he look like this?” I showed him the closest mock-up we had of how Steele currently looked.

  “I dunno. Maybe.”

  “Is that his stuff?” I pointed to the boxes.

  “No, he didn’t have much of anything with him, just this jacket.” He rubbed his hand against the material covering his chest.

  “I’ll give you fifty bucks for it.”

  “Sorry, I need it to keep warm.”

  “Here, man. How ‘bout we trade?” O’Connell emptied his pockets and took off his jacket.

  The guy looked at the jacket and the money in my hand. “And I get the fifty bucks?”

  “Sure.” I held out the money, and he took off the garment. Inside the pocket, I found a familiar old subway token with a hole punched through it and a small metal loop hooked through.

  “What’s that?” O’Connell asked.

  “A piece of Mark Jablonsky’s key chain.” I forced air into my lungs. “I know where Steele took Lucca.”

  Thirty-five

  I laid into my horn, which did nothing. If the lights and sirens going off couldn’t clear the accident, nothing would.

  O’Connell rolled down his window and yelled to me, “Units are on the way. Hopefully, they aren’t stuck in this gridlock.”

  “I’m not waiting.” Opening the car door, I filled my lungs and ran, zipping around the stopped cars. An SUV had T-boned a water delivery truck. Large bottles filled the streets. Several other cars had been involved in fender benders, probably in their attempts to avoid the multi-gallon bottles. It was a mess. Until some of the vehicles were moved out of the way, no one was going anywhere.

  Dashing across three lanes, I made it back to the sidewalk and spotted a cab on a side street. The woman stepped out, and the cab slowly started to pull away.

  “Wait,” I screamed. “Stop him.”

  The woman saw me coming and flagged down the driver. For the first time today, something had gone right.

  “Thanks.” I shoved my way inside, gave the cabbie Mark’s address, told him this was official police business, and I’d pay him five hundred dollars if he got me there in the next five minutes. We might have broken the land speed record.

  When we pulled up, I tossed my credit card and business card into the front seat. He could stop by Cross Security to collect his payment or he could go on a crazy spending spree until he maxed out my card. Either way, I didn’t care.

  “Take off,” I warned. “There’s an active shooter in the area.”

  That got him going.

  Palming my gun, I crept up to Jablonsky’s front door. If I was wrong again, it wouldn’t matter. Lucca would be dead, and Steele would have moved on to his next target. The front door hung precariously from the damaged frame. A few boards held it in place. Steele didn’t come in this way.

  Moving from cover to cover, I went around the house. I didn’t have time to waste, but I didn’t want Steele to see me until it was too late. As soon as I stepped onto the back patio, I knew they were here. Blood droplets dotted the concrete like a proverbial trail of breadcrumbs. The door remained open. Steele knew I was coming.

  As quietly as possible, I slipped inside. The kitchen chairs were askew. Two had toppled over, and one was missing. Lucca had put up a fight. How long had it been since the call? Thirty minutes? Where was my partner?

  Aside from the mess, the kitchen was clear. I pressed against the wall and peered into the living room. Lucca spotted me immediately. But he couldn’t speak, thanks to the gag. He didn’t jerk or move, but I saw fear in his eyes.

  Poking my head around the corner, I didn’t see Steele, but I saw what had freaked out Lucca. A rifle was aimed at his head. Steele had jerry-rigged it so if anyone tried to come in through the front, it’d pull the cord and squeeze the trigger.

  I had to remove that before the police arrived. They’d t
ake down the front door when they breached and kill Lucca in the process. That must have been what Steele planned. He wanted to make me regret every one of my decisions. Thank god for traffic accidents.

  Keeping my head on a swivel, I entered the living room. No sign of Steele. No sign of any other tripwires. Lucca let out a few moaning gasps, but I couldn’t understand him.

  “Shh,” I said as I carefully removed the wire from the door and repositioned the rifle away from Lucca’s head before attempting to dismantle the booby trap.

  Lucca let out another strangled groan, and I left the rifle on the floor and pulled the gag out of his mouth. He sucked in air, which sounded like a whistling gurgle. The knife remained lodged in his torso. From its position, I suspected it had gone through his liver. The blade might have been the only thing keeping Lucca from bleeding out. His skin was pale and covered in sweat. His eyelids fluttered, but he took a few more ragged gasps. Maybe it was his lungs and not his liver that were in trouble.

  “Eddie, hang on. Help’s coming.” I cut the duct tape which bound him to the chair. “Where’s Steele?”

  “Upstairs.” Lucca’s head bobbed, and he fought to keep his eyes open.

  “Okay,” I glanced up the steps, “let’s get you out of here.”

  I slipped beneath his left arm, cringing when he let out another grunt. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.” I supported as much of his weight as I could and slowly dragged him toward the back door. We made it as far as the kitchen table before I heard Steele bounding down the steps.

  Lucca grabbed the table for support while I pulled my gun and spun, but it was too late. Steele slammed into me with the force of a freight train. For a moment, I was airborne. Then we knocked into the back door and tumbled onto the patio.

  I landed hard on my back, the momentum carrying us with enough force to flip Steele over top of me. Scrambling to my feet, I searched for my gun, but it was lost somewhere in Mark’s kitchen. Steele charged again.

  We banged into the wooden privacy fence which separated Mark’s backyard from his neighbor’s. Steele reached for my wrists, and I kicked him in the stomach. He lost his grip on my hands but grabbed my leg as he recovered. I clawed at the fence, searching for purchase, desperate to remain upright, but he dragged me to the ground and pummeled me.

  Stars exploded behind my eyes, and I blinked through the pain, wondering what he hit me with. A heavy object thudded to the ground next to me. Taking advantage of my dazed state, Steele yanked my arms above my head and held my wrists in one of his. He pinned my thighs with his knees and quickly frisked me with his free hand.

  “Satisfied?” I spat when he tossed my cell phone into the bushes.

  “Not yet.” He leaned down, running his nose along my cheek. “But I will be.”

  I reared up, but he shoved me harder against the ground. “So much fight, just like last time.” He turned toward the house. “But no one’s coming to save you this time.”

  “I don’t need saving, but you might.”

  He laughed, that sick sound I’d come to despise. “This is where our game started. It’s only fitting it’s where it ends.” The chain around my neck caught his attention, and he ripped it from my throat, his face contorting in anger. “You belong to me, chica. No one else. I’ll make sure of that.”

  He reached for something in his pocket, and I bucked beneath him. He backhanded me, and I shifted my hips to the side, moving with the blow. The force behind it knocked him off balance, and I slipped a leg free and kicked into his low ribs. His bones gave way beneath my heel, and he howled. I grabbed the rock he’d hit me with and swung, but it glanced off his shoulder.

  His eyes blazed fiercely; the pain deadened by whatever narcotic he currently had coursing through his veins. He yanked me up and slammed me repeatedly into the fence, rage fueling his strikes. I fought to hold on as he tore at me, waiting and hoping he’d regain some control.

  Suddenly, he took a step back, and I crumpled to the ground. Broken boards landed beside me. And Steele took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face. “Don’t make me hurt you, chica.”

  I stared up at him, my back aching and head spinning. Thankfully, he hadn’t done too much damage. He settled on top of me and cradled me against his massive frame, like a rag doll.

  I didn’t move. I didn’t even try. “Is that what happened with Cooper? He made you hurt him?”

  “No,” Steele said, “you made me hurt him.”

  “Why did you let Lawson live?” I asked, distracting him as he shifted his hold on me. I didn’t fight or struggle. It took every ounce of willpower not to and all of my effort to maintain a steady unemotional tone. But Steele was untethered. Anything could set him off, and until I had the upper hand, I couldn’t risk him losing it again. My mind drifted back to Lucca. I had to end this quickly if there was any hope of saving my former partner.

  “You did what I said, so I allowed him to live.”

  “Let Lucca go.” Desperation crept into my voice. “You have me. You don’t need him. You’ve won. I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “No. You made your decision. You picked Hotshot over me. You chose him again. You have to pay for that.” He forced me flat on my back and adjusted above me, wrapping one hand around my throat while the other moved to my belt buckle. The clasp distracted him, and he looked down to unfasten it.

  I reached to the side for one of the wooden planks, squirming beneath him. “You’re fucking crazy. Don’t you get it? I’m not a coked-out stripper. I’m a cop. Hotshot’s a cop. Our job was to arrest you. I don’t know how you got out, but you’re going back. The warden won’t be around to help you escape this time. You’re never getting out again.”

  “We’ll see about that.” He pressed his forearm hard against my side, hitting a tender spot and causing me to scream. He stopped, cocking his head at me, as if something didn’t compute. I could almost see the crazy switch flip in the other direction. “Stop fighting. I don’t want to hurt you. Just relax.” He let go of my belt and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out his kit and popped it open with practiced ease. “You’ll feel better in a minute. Then you’ll see things clearly.” Just as he jabbed the syringe into my hip, I hit him with the broken board.

  I pulled back to swing again, but he yanked the board out of my grasp, rocking back on his heels. That’s all I needed. My legs were free, his hands off of me, and I wrapped my legs tightly around him, swinging my body around and getting him into a headlock. I squeezed hard, my chest against his back. He swatted at me, and I hooked one arm around his, isolating his shoulder. He slapped at my arm with his one free hand, trying to roll free by jerking from side to side, but I had a firm grip. He couldn’t get me off.

  He dug his fingers into my wrist, squeezing as hard as he could, but I didn’t loosen my hold. If I did, I’d be dead and so would Lucca. Finally, Steele stopped squeezing my arm. He was fading fast. Just a few more seconds, and he’d be out. But if I held on longer, he’d never wake up.

  I focused on holding on. He shifted again, practically sitting up while I clung to him. I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but he pulled something from beneath his pants leg and flopped to the side, crushing my good leg against the ground.

  He pressed the muzzle of a snub-nosed .38 against my thigh and pulled the trigger. I didn’t feel it, but I heard the gunshot. Did he miss?

  My leg muscles nearly went slack, still on fire from the injection, and I focused on keeping them tight around him. I hung on until Steele went completely limp. I waited, counting the seconds, though my heart raced. I didn’t have time to wait. I had to help Lucca.

  Untangling my limbs from Steele’s, I kicked his gun away and nudged him with a broken plank. He didn’t move, and I hoped he was dead. I hurried into the kitchen, barely aware of my right leg dragging behind me. Based on the blood trail, Lucca had crawled closer to the door. He lay on his side, not moving. Blood leaked out from around the knife at a steady pace, almost like a rapidly
dripping faucet.

  “Eddie,” I rolled him onto his back, “wake up.” I tore off the bottom part of my shirt, wrapping it around the wound. My fingers brushed against his neck. I felt his pulse, but it was weak. “Lucca, come on. I’m gonna get you out of here.” Where were the cops? It felt like I’d been trapped in this hell for years, but a glance at the clock showed me it had only been a couple of minutes. I tried to lift him, but I couldn’t. “Lucca?”

  He sucked in a breath. “Where’s Steele?”

  “Out there.”

  He lifted his head just enough to see out the door. “Good.” He dropped back against the tile. “Alex, I need you to do something for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “Tell my wife I love her and I’m sorry.”

  “Your wife?”

  “Tell her that. Please.”

  “No,” I sunk onto the ground, keeping one hand around the shirt and blade, holding it steady, “do it yourself.”

  “Parker, don’t be a hard ass.”

  “Tell me what you did.” I had to keep him talking. “Whatever it was probably requires jewelry and groveling. I’m not buying some woman I don’t know jewelry. And have you met me? I don’t grovel.” I felt my face getting closer to the ground. “What’d you do?”

  “She found out the truth.”

  “You’re gay?”

  “No. Just tell her.” He closed his eyes.

  “Lucca, don’t do this to me. I can’t. I just can’t.” I concentrated on keeping steady pressure against his chest. Where was a cop when you needed one? “Stay with me, Eddie. Come on.” I gave him a friendly slap to the cheek, like Moretti had done to me, “Open those eyes. Look at me.”

  Noise sounded from behind, and I heard sirens. “Parker.” Lucca’s voice sounded distant. “Parker,” he said more urgently, “run.”