Rob Thy Neighbor

by David Thurlo

  He had no death wish, nor did he want to injure anyone, which was likely to happen if he or Gordon was attacked. With so many potential opponents, they couldn’t afford to hold back. These kids didn’t understand who they were dealing with.

  All he wanted to do was to be able to drive away with his friends and have the opportunity to find out whoever was messing with the Randals and trying to kill him. Though he doubted anyone here was behind what had happened, they were inadvertently supporting Ray’s criminal behavior, and Charlie didn’t believe he’d be able to change any minds about that. He’d remain stable and provoke as little as possible. Despite his pal’s love of combat, he doubted that Gordon would push anyone into a brawl either, and he’d have to take it on faith that none of this crowd was packing heat.

  “Hey, people, glad to see everyone is still working out at Bojo. I miss you guys,” Lori began immediately.

  Charlie smiled. Smart girl.

  “You too, Lori, but did you know you’re hanging around with a guy who’s trying to send Ray back to jail?” asked one of the oldest of the group, a husky fireplug of a guy almost as tall as Charlie.

  To not speak now would show weakness, something he dare not do with these people, who were used to taking aggressive positions when confronted. But maybe he could lead everyone in a different direction. “I’m Charlie, the man you’re probably here to see. Do you have any fathers, brothers, or sisters who’ve served in the military? Afghanistan, Iraq, maybe?”

  He noticed a few nods. “I served four tours, the last two in Afghanistan. I saw friends get wounded, blown to pieces and killed, but I lived through that hell and came back without a scratch, at least one that shows on the outside. Now, here at home, in the past week, somebody has tried to kill me three times. Three. Two drive-bys, plus a pipe bomb planted in my kitchen. You may have seen some of that on the news. That’s me they’re talking about. That’s gone down because I stepped up and helped keep three guys with guns from kidnapping a man from his home—after they chased down and shot his wife.”

  Nobody had a quick response, so he kept going. “I didn’t serve my country to come back here and get blown away, not on the street or in my own home. If Ray Geiger did the deed he’s been arrested for, that’s between him, God, and a judge and jury. When it goes to trial, you go sit in the courtroom and have his back if you want. Look me in the face and know that I’m telling the truth. Just don’t screw up your own life by trying to mess with mine. So if you’ve got something to say, say it now.”

  “Ray says he didn’t do it, and we believe him,” one of the girls shouted out.

  “And if you say it was him, you’re lying,” another young man said, stepping up closer to Charlie.

  “You weren’t there, Fabio. It’s okay to believe in your sensei. Ray has helped all of you,” Lori said. “But he’s also made mistakes in the past. What will serve him best right now is letting the jury sort it out. Don’t do anything that’s going to come back on him—or his school, or his father.”

  “His old man sucks,” someone over by the sidewalk mumbled. “But I know Ray didn’t do any of that shit.”

  “Then show Ray he’s worth something to you, and that he’s making a difference in your lives. Stick with your martial arts training. Stay out of trouble. Don’t screw up,” Lori called out loudly. “He’s probably in there now, wondering where the hell you are.” She looked down at her cell phone. “You’re late. Get to class, people!”

  They began to move away, giving Charlie a parting mad-dog glare, then looked away and picked up the pace. Within thirty seconds they’d all entered the dojo.

  Gordon, who’d taken a casual stroll around the Charger, joined Charlie and Lori, who were still watching the door of the martial arts studio.

  “So, did they key my car?” Charlie asked.

  “Not much. Don’t worry, I know a guy,” Gordon replied.

  “I’m calling this a win, boys,” Lori said. “You guys have some good personal skills. Now, can we get out of here?” she added as Charlie pressed the key fob, unlocking the doors. “I feel like I’m in hostile territory.”

  * * *

  After taking Lori back to her apartment, the guys returned to the shop, planning to watch the surveillance footage whenever they could get free. Today, Margaret was at Firm Foundation working with Sam, so hopefully, they could make some progress in identifying whoever was still trying to kill Charlie. Maybe DuPree and Nancy would learn something as well.

  Charlie was out front, positioning watches and turquoise jewelry in their Plexiglas display cases, when his cell phone rang. It was Gina, calling from her own cell.

  “Hey, Gina, what’s up?” He could hear what sounded like traffic in the background. “You having car trouble?”

  “No, Charlie, I’m actually out in front of the courthouse. Lately somebody has been following me every time I leave my office, especially when I’m going back and forth between there and the jails or court. I think it’s only when I’m on foot. If they’ve been watching the house or following me in the car, I haven’t been able to pick up on it yet.”

  “Crap. I’m guessing you’ve actually laid eyes on the person, right? Any idea who it might be?”

  “No,” she replied. “I keep seeing what looks like a man, or at least someone without curves, about five foot eight, slender, usually wearing a light hoodie and black baseball cap. He has on dark loafers or those low-cut canvas-style shoes some of the skaters wear. Oh, and cheap sunglasses.”

  “Dresses young. I hope he’s frying in the heat. You get a hair color? No beard or mustache?” Charlie pressed.

  “My impression is that the person, probably a man based upon his stride, has brown hair, not black. There’s no beard, but the guy has a big 35 mm style camera with a telephoto lens. I’ve seen him taking pictures of me.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman.”

  “Don’t be creepy, Charles.”

  “I’m considering every angle. You think it might be someone from one of your cases? Maybe a guy working for an opposition lawyer, or someone who came out on the losing side in a lawsuit?” It was a logical question he had to ask. Often, many thousands of dollars in judgments or settlements resulted from her work, and lawyers couldn’t help but make enemies.

  “I guess so, but why keep following me? I’m not meeting with any secret witnesses or conducting any business out of the ordinary. Everything I do is in private or open court,” she responded. “It’s getting kind of scary though.”

  “You still carrying that .380?”

  “Everywhere it’s legal, of course. Could this be someone connected to the Randals? One of Ray Geiger’s crew, maybe? There’s one or more that’s still out there.” Her voice was subdued, almost a whisper.

  “Unless you’ve coincidentally picked up a stalker.”

  “You trying to cheer me up?”

  “How long have you noticed this person on your trail?”

  “Just the last two days, though it could be longer, I suppose. I’m always on alert, you know that. I do most of my out-of-office work downtown in court or the county government offices, and the streets are filled with people who are dealing with the system. Two big jails, law enforcement buildings, courthouses, street people, associates of criminals. I walk among them nearly every day.”

  “Okay, then the first thing we need to do is corner the guy. Then we learn the motive, if there is one. What happens if you move in his direction and try to get a closer look?”

  “I’ve tried to be very subtle about it, not letting him know I’ve spotted him. Still, he backs off and slips away. The guy is always watching and anticipating what I’m about to do. The only times I’ve ever got more than a glance is when I catch his reflection in a window. Last time I did that, though, I think he caught on and disappeared. Usually when I’m downtown it’s during business hours, and there are a lot of people on the streets. It’s easy for him to blend in. He’s changed his look since last time, but only with the color of h
is outfit, like different-color jeans or hoodie. Or his cap. But it’s the same guy.”

  “Is he watching you now?”

  There was a pause, then she answered. “I’m standing close to the curb at the intersection right now, and I took a three-sixty look around. I don’t see him at the moment, but he was across the street when I left the building. That’s what finally motivated me to call you.”

  “You tell Nancy about this yet?”

  “You crazy? She’d go postal and start gunning for the guy. You know how protective she is, and she needs to stay focused on dealing with her current assignment, which is running down whoever’s after you and Sam Randal. Her work with DuPree in the violent crimes division could be a real career boost. She needs to worry about the investigation, not me.”

  “Like I don’t care what happens to you?”

  “No, it’s because I know you do that I called. You’re not a cop, and because of that, you can think and work outside the box—and the rules. You could have been a top-notch FBI agent or cop if you’d gone in that direction. How about helping me out?”

  “Of course. But what will Nancy say?”

  “I’ll deal with that when it happens, and don’t you say a word that’ll get back to her. Meanwhile, just so you know, if this guy makes any move toward me I’m going to put him in the hospital,” Gina affirmed.

  Charlie knew that Gina had been trained in Krav Maga, the Israeli military fighting system, while attending law school at Rutgers, and that she and Nancy worked out together. Nancy had mentioned more than once that her personal defense skills far exceeded what she’d learned at the police academy after only a few workouts with Gina.

  But hand-to-hand training wouldn’t keep someone from being ambushed, shot at, run over, or poisoned, so it always made sense to be proactive. Gina was doing the right thing, asking for backup.

  “Where are you going next?” Charlie asked, a plan forming in his head.

  “Back to my office for maybe an hour, then home. Nancy and I are going grocery shopping as soon as she’s off duty, assuming something doesn’t come up.”

  “Okay. Follow your routine. Just don’t go into any confined spaces or a parking garage where you might walk into a trap. I’m going to come down to your office and keep watch on the building. Once I’m in position, I’ll call and let you know. What I’d like you to do then is walk back to the county courthouse via your normal route, then pass through the lobby and security station. Once you’re cleared, get out of sight for a while. Maybe go to one of the waiting areas outside a courtroom and stay there for about fifteen minutes. I’ll be in the area, out on the streets, trying to spot your stalker. Don’t look around for me, just stay normal, especially when you come back outside. If I spot the guy, I’ll call and give you instructions on what to do, if the situation allows. Unless I tell you otherwise, return to your office, get in your car, and go home. Got that?”

  “Okay, but I have to leave my handgun in my office. I can’t take it into the courthouse.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll be close by.”

  “Shouldn’t I call if I spot him?”

  “No, that might just scare him away. He’s been very careful up till now. You can take calls that come in that won’t distract you, but don’t make any outgoing calls unless you’re confronted. Trust me, I’ll be in the area, watching, and I know how to blend in,” Charlie affirmed.

  “Okay. I’ll see you … when I see you, I guess. Be careful, Charles.”

  Charlie placed the phone in his pocket and looked around the shop. Three people had come into the place while he was talking to Gina. Jake was up front and already talking to two of them. Ruth was somewhere in the back, but she could cover the front register if he asked. He’d take the opportunity to tell Gordon what was going on with Gina, come up with a disguise, then head downtown.

  * * *

  Driving Gordon’s borrowed truck, he circled the block where Gina’s law office was located and quickly spotted the likely stalker sitting on a wooden bench, looking toward the seven-story building.

  The guy was seated in front of a motor vehicle office just west of where two street vendors were pitching costume jewelry and hot dogs to passersby. He was fiddling with a big camera and was wearing a gray sweatshirt-style hoodie and a brown ball cap. It was hot downtown at the moment, and his head was uncovered except for the cap and sunglasses, revealing short, medium brown hair. From his clothing, posture, and size, Charlie judged that the man was probably late teens to midtwenties, just the right age for Ray’s crew and most of his older students.

  Charlie parked in the multilevel public garage a block north of the courthouse, adjusted his tie, grabbed his briefcase, and then stepped down out of the pickup onto level 4 of the relatively cool, shaded concrete parking structure. Once he was out of the structure, he’d be just another suit on his way to a business meeting, or to do whatever the hell those white-collar people did from nine to five. The advantage of wearing the expensive, almost new gray suit liberated from the clothing rack in FOB Pawn was that it concealed the pistol tucked in the holster back on his hip.

  He’d had to wear his black boots, but fortunately they weren’t considered too much of a break in corporate protocol here in the Southwest. He doubted the stalker would know the difference, however, if he was the kind of punk who hung around with Ray Geiger.

  Gina’s shadow might not be connected to the Randal situation at all. He could be associated with some legal hassle regarding her law firm, or even be a sick puppy who just happened to discover and become obsessed with the woman. It was difficult for anyone not to notice Gina Sinclair whenever she was out in public.

  Stepping into the shade granted by the recessed doorway of an upscale clothing store, Charlie brought out his phone and called Gina. “I’m in position now, watching the person I believe is the subject. Come down and walk to the courthouse, as planned. Don’t go too fast, just hurry a little like you forgot something and need to get it done before you can call it a day. And don’t look around for the guy. He’s wearing a gray hoodie and a brown cap. Whatever you do, if he comes into your field of view, avoid eye contact.”

  “Got it.” Gina’s voice, normally soft and a little high pitched, was low and firm—the one she reserved for strictly business.

  A couple of minutes went by before Gina, dressed in a dark brown suit with a light blue scarf, stepped out of the building and came down the steps to the ground-level sidewalk. She was carrying a small leather briefcase, a fixture of her profession, at least in his limited understanding of lawyerness.

  He turned away to watch Camera Guy. From this point on, Charlie needed to ignore Gina and focus on the target—and at the same time not get made. Fortunately, there were a half-dozen or more suits walking briskly along the same sidewalk, none of them standing out in any way, at least to him. Charlie had considered disguising himself as a street person, but in this particular downtown location there was often a cop or two coming or going, and he’d decided that it might make him a subject of attention and avoidance at the same time. So far, he’d made the right decisions.

  Camera Guy had noted Gina’s presence from the moment she came out of the building, and now he was watching her through the camera lens, which also concealed his face. Knowing the direction Gina would be taking, Charlie moved down the sidewalk on his side of the street to take a new position. He watched the guy, who was now on his feet, out of the corner of his eye. As he’d warned Gina, it was safer not to look directly at the subject. The rule applied equally around the world, whether you were hunting your prey in Afghanistan or Albuquerque.

  He waited, and when Gina continued on toward the end of the block, the target followed, casually, looking from side to side occasionally as if studying the architecture of the multistory buildings. His gaze always returned to Gina, however, and though Charlie was very careful, Camera Guy never looked back. His focus was clearly on Gina and what she was doing.

  Once she went inside the courthouse
lobby, lining up behind a few other suits at the mandatory security check point and awaiting the x-raying of her briefcase, her stalker stopped across the avenue, sat down on one of the steps leading up to the building, and began fiddling with his camera.

  Charlie stopped, turned around, and quickly circled the block, coming around the building and waiting in the shade. He brought out his cell phone, noting that Camera Guy had also shifted his position and was now across the street, still technically on courthouse grounds but seated on a low, decorative concrete wall. Behind him was a small basement diner incorporated into the courthouse structure that served mostly county employees and others who had business there—like juries. It was a good place to watch for Gina, then follow, regardless of what direction she took.

  Charlie continued walking east past the courthouse. Once out of sight of Camera Guy, he crossed over to the same side of the street as the courthouse, then came up to the eastern corner of the municipal building and sat down on a bench, cell phone out and to his ear. He couldn’t see the target, who was around the corner maybe a hundred feet away, but he would spot Gina as she left the building and came to the crosswalk at the intersection. To return to her office, she’d cross the street, heading north. Charlie decided to speed things up a bit and called Gina.

  “Hey, girl. Let’s make it happen. Head back to your office, the usual route. After you cross the street and get down the block about halfway, I’ll call you with some instructions.”

  “So he’s back?”

  “Yup, and I’m going to nail him. Depending on how this goes down, I may end up contacting DuPree. Just keep your distance and do exactly what I say. Unless I tell you otherwise, once you get to your office, lock the door and wait for my next call. It may be a while, but be patient. If anyone else shows up and you feel threatened, start screaming and call 911.”