Avenging Alex

by Lewis Ericson

  “So, that’s it? That’s all you’re gonna do?” Alex questioned.

  John’s silence was louder than any confirmation. He pulled out his cell phone and called his detective friend.

  “Sam, it’s John Chase. I need you to put out an APB on a man named Ade Obafemi. O-b-a-f-e-m-i . . . Yeah, I think he may have something to do with all of this. If he’s involved he may be trying to leave the state. He’s got family in Chicago and Nigeria. I’ve got his picture. I’ll send it over to you . . . Thanks, man.”

  “What the hell is going on, John? I thought you had him checked out already. How could this have happened?”

  John didn’t respond.

  “Answer me, dammit!”

  “I don’t know, Alex. I just hope it’s all a coincidence.”

  “Coincidence? My mother and my baby were kidnapped. They could be . . . they could be dead, and all you have to say is this could all be a coincidence!” Alex climbed back into the truck and slammed the door.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t mean shit right now, but it’s all I got.” John slid behind the wheel and drove off. “I fucked up, Alex. All I can do is try to fix this.”

  He reached out to take her hand. She snatched it away. He shook his head and pulled over to the side of the road. He removed a small USB device from the inside of his jacket pocket and inserted it in the port on his phone. “Do you have your cell phone with you?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Give it to me.”

  “What for?

  “Just give it to me.”

  She took her phone from her purse and he affixed a similar device to it.

  “What are you doing?

  “Scrambling the GPS tracking. I don’t want anybody to know where we’re going.”

  Forty minutes later they pulled up outside a Comfort Inn hotel off Santa Monica Boulevard.

  “What if we were followed?”

  “We weren’t.” He held up his phone as a reminder. “I know you’re having a hard time trusting me right now, but I’m going to do everything I can to make sure this all turns out right.” John got out of the truck guardedly, looking around to ensure that he could substantiate his claim.

  Alex grabbed her bag and joined him. They checked into the hotel under the names that they’d used before, Mr. and Mrs. John Carter (John had the identification to prove the alias). Once settled in, John cased the room and its surroundings, particularly the location of the stairwell and how one might easily gain entry to the floor without using the elevator. He found that the door on the ground floor was locked and could only be opened with a key card from the outside or, in the event of a fire, from the inside.

  Overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation, Alex held on to the stuffed rabbit she removed from her bag, slumped down at the foot of the king-sized bed, and wept. John eased close to her and took her in his arms; this time she didn’t pull away. A tidal wave of emotion collided and washed over her.

  “Just when I started to feel like maybe everything was going to be all right. How did I ever let myself believe he would leave us alone?”

  “This is my fault,” John conceded. “I was careless. I wasn’t thinking like a cop. I let this happen.”

  “I was a distraction.”

  “No—”

  “Yes. I was.”

  John couldn’t raise an adequate argument. “It was more than just you. This shit with Lorraine. I let it all get to me. It threw me off my game.”

  “And now my mother is paying the price.” Alex dried her tears and wiped away the residue of mascara stinging her eyes. She went to her travel bag and dug out a business-sized manila envelope and handed it to him.

  “What’s this?”

  “A couple of weeks ago I got really scared that if something happened to me Cerena would be left alone. So, I wrote a letter to her father. I couldn’t mail it. I took it to the bank and put it in a safety deposit box. This is the information to get it out. You know that Betty Ellis is Tirrell’s grandmother, and his brother works in the DA’s office. Tirrell may not be worth a shit, but I know his family would take care of Cerena. If I die they need to be notified.”

  “Alex.”

  “Everything you need is in this envelope. If you can’t promise me anything else, you have to make sure Betty Ellis gets that letter. I don’t want my baby growing up without . . . without family.”

  “Nothing is going to—”

  Alex pressed her fingers to John’s lips to keep him from making any more promises that neither of them was sure he’d be able to keep. “You know who Tirrell is and you know he’s in Atlanta. All the information is in my files. Just make sure this letter gets where it needs to go.”

  “Okay, if it’ll make you feel better.”

  “Nothing is going to make me feel better until we find my mother and baby.”

  John’s cell phone rang as he moved to the window and looked over the perimeter of the parking lot below. “Donovan, what’s up?”

  “You tell me. I thought you were supposed to meet me at Casey’s for a beer.”

  “Yeah, something’s come up. Janette Sullivan and the baby went missing.”

  “What?”

  “I think Rivera got to them.”

  “What about the girl?”

  “I got her out of the house. She’s with me.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Out of the line of fire, for now.”

  “Tell me where you are I’ll come meet you. If Rivera’s made a move we got to bring the girl in.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “John, what the hell are you talkin’ about?”

  “Right now, I need to make sure Alex stays safe and the only way I can do that is if she stays with me. The fewer people who know where we are the better.”

  “Alex? You’re calling her Alex now? Aw, man. You’re really fuckin’ up here. I’m your partner. Let me help you make this right.”

  “Donovan, I gotta go.”

  “John, wait—”

  “I’ll check in with you in the morning.” John ended the call, cutting Donovan off before he could raise an objection over his handling of the situation.

  “Why didn’t you tell him where we were?” Alex asked.

  “I’m not bringing him in on this until I know what the hell went wrong.” He started toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going back to the house to look for anything we may have missed that might tell me where your mother was taken.”

  Alex grabbed his arm. “You can’t leave me here by myself.”

  He loosened her grip. “I won’t be gone long.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  He glanced over her shoulder toward her travel case. “You know that gun I’m not supposed to know you have? I don’t wanna know where you got it from, but if anybody comes here and tries to get in, use it. Don’t look at me like that. I’m no Barney Fife. You need to protect yourself; I get that. But you need to be careful with it.”

  He kissed her and admonished her to lock the door behind him.

  It was nine o’clock when John got back to Monrovia. The usually quiet neighborhood had returned to itself. Other than the occasional car passing through, the only noise on the street was the distant bark of a dog. There were still lights on at most of the houses, but Alex’s stood ominously dark and still as if to warn of a crime that had taken place there, and maybe even one that was yet to come.

  The groceries were untouched on the counter: warm milk, broken eggs. A pitcher of watered-down lemonade was on the kitchen table, a deck of playing cards, a broken lamp, crumpled area rugs, the strewn dirt from the potted plant. Definite signs of a struggle. As he picked up trash and wiped up spills he contemplated what he’d overlooked earlier that would redeem him. He found a discarded tract underneath one of the rugs and stared at it, hoping it would provide an answer. “Judgment Day,” he whispered. What was the link? If Jamilah an
d the baby were still alive he wondered for how long. After securing the house he headed back to Santa Monica.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me. John.”

  Alex hesitated before opening the door. After John dashed inside she locked it behind him. “Did you find anything that could help?”

  “No.”

  “Anything turn up on Ade?”

  “Not yet.” John dragged into the room, peeled off his jacket, and flopped down in a chair next to the window, rubbing his eyes. “You should try to get some sleep.”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “Try.”

  Alex pulled at the oversized T-shirt she was wearing, walked over, and knelt down in front of the beleaguered inspector. “This is what happens when I let my guard down. I let myself believe that we actually had a future together. The FBI agent and the fugitive. Sounds like one of those cheesy Lifetime movies, doesn’t it? Just once I wanted it to be true.”

  He looked at her with weary regret. She reached up, caressed his head and the stubble on his face. He closed his eyes, breathing in the fragrance of the vanilla bath oils on her skin. She climbed into his lap and kissed the prickly hairs of his neck until her lips found his. Feeling his body’s reaction on her bare buttocks, she pulled her T-shirt off.

  “Make love to me,” she whispered.

  “Alex, we . . . Not like this.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes. “Please.”

  He took her face in his hands and ran his fingers through her hair. She rose up and led him over to the bed, and he kicked off his shoes, disrobed, and climbed in next to her. Kissing her wet, salty tears, he rolled over on top of her, gently resting the weight of his frame and entered her with measured intensity. He hissed and the contour of her body gradually surrendered to him with every metered stroke.

  Alex gasped and cried, “Stop.”

  “What’s the matter? Am I hurting you?”

  “No. I can’t do this. Not now. It doesn’t feel right.”

  John sighed and pulled out.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “C’mere.” John lay on his side and pulled Alex into him. He kissed her softly on the lips. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. There’s a lot going on. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “I just need you to hold me.”

  “I can do that.”

  John enveloped Alex into his arms and she snuggled close to his chest, breathing in his scent. Secured by his embrace she eventually drifted to sleep.

  13

  Alex awoke on the verge of hysterics the next morning when she saw that John wasn’t there. She threw back the covers, jumped up, and ran to the window. She could see the parking lot but not his truck. Her cell phone rang and she leapt across the bed to answer it.

  “Hello . . . Hello . . . Mama, is that you? John? Hello?”

  The call ended. She looked to see what number registered; it listed UNKNOWN. Still she hit redial as if expecting it to go through. She spotted a note written on the hotel stationary next to the lamp and picked it up.

  Be back soon. Stay inside and keep the door locked.

  She grabbed her bag from the side of the bed and checked to make sure her gun was still in it. She then pulled out her undergarments, a pair of skinny jeans, and a sweater, and went into the bathroom. Several minutes later she returned to discover that while she was dressing the unknown caller had called again.

  There was a light tapping at the door.

  Alex reached for her gun. “John?”

  “Yeah.”

  She put her gun away and quickly unlocked the door. John pushed in, bearing coffee and a bag from a nearby deli. He’d also apparently gone home to clean up and change clothes.

  “I got you something to eat.”

  She forced a smile and took the coffee. “Thank you. But, I’m really not hungry.”

  “Come on. When was the last time you ate?”

  “Um, yesterday afternoon, I think.”

  He sat down next to her on the bed and opened the bag. “Look, I got bagels and sausage and biscuits. I didn’t know what you would have a taste for.”

  “I don’t want anything.”

  “You gotta eat something.”

  Her stomach agreed. She jumped when her cell phone rang again. UNKNOWN.

  “That’s the third time this morning.”

  John picked it up but didn’t say anything right away. He listened, trying to hear background noises. A few seconds passed before he spoke. “Who is this?”

  There was no answer.

  The woman on the other end quickly pressed the end button on her cell phone. “Carajo,” she spat, tossing her long, straight hair.

  “Did she answer?” the balding captor asked, entering the room carrying grocery bags.

  The woman paced the floor of the sparsely furnished room. “Did you get rid of the van?”

  “Of course I did. I know what I’m doin’. But, apparently he didn’t think of everything. How long are we supposed to keep them here?”

  “We keep them until we are told otherwise,” the woman countered.

  “I don’t like this. I didn’t sign on to be some damn babysitter for two old people and a screamin’ brat.”

  The Latin beauty arched her brow, sauntered toward the man, and snatched one of the bags from him. “You are getting paid to do what you are told.” She examined the contents of the bag. “Idiota. Le supusieron traer detrás un inhalador para la mujer. ¡Usted no puede hacer cualquier cosa a la derecha!”

  “Hey, speak English, Pilar. I don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’.”

  The woman threw up her hands. “I said you are an idiot. You were supposed to bring back an asthma inhaler for the woman.”

  “What was I gonna do, pull one out of my ass? You need a prescription for those things.”

  “You need to call and make sure this gets taken care of.”

  “I don’t take orders from you,” the man huffed.

  “You work for my father. You work for me. ¿Entiendes?”

  John swiped the card key to the door of his office and went in to find Harley Donovan there alone.

  “Where the hell have you been?” Donovan demanded, hanging up the phone.

  “I’ll explain later,” John replied as he sat down to log in to his computer.

  Donovan reached over him and placed his hands over his keyboard. “I think you’d better explain now, buddy. Toliver’s been askin’ about you every five minutes. He’s pissed that you haven’t checked in or answered his calls, but I’ve been coverin’ for your ass. Hey, remember me? I’m your partner. Whatever you’re doin’ if it affects you it affects me too. If somethin’ is goin’ down with this case I need to know about it. You need to start thinkin’ with your big head and not with your little one.”

  John fell back in his chair. “What have you told him?”

  “I told him that Lorraine is ridin’ you about this separation and you’re tryin’ to work out custody issues with her. You know the little general is only goin’ to buy that for so long.”

  “You better not let him hear you calling him that.”

  “No chance of that. He went downtown. So, you wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

  “All right . . . Janette Sullivan and the baby were kidnapped yesterday.”

  “You already told me that.”

  “I think this Ade Obafemi is mixed up in this somehow.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because he’s missing too. I went by his place last night and he wasn’t there. I went back there this morning. His bed doesn’t look like it’s been slept in. Everything looked like it did when I went there yesterday. There wasn’t any indication that he’d been there in the last twenty-four hours. No sightings of him at the bus station or the airport.”

  “Where’d you stash the girl?”

  John looked at his partner and then glanced around the office. “I can’t tell you that.”

&
nbsp; “Why the hell not?”

  “Somehow somebody found out where we were keeping her and that wasn’t by chance. There’s a leak somewhere. Somebody is either working for or with Rivera and I’m not telling anybody anything until I get some answers.”

  “You don’t think it was me, do you?”

  John pushed away from his desk and moved to the window.

  “You’re in this shit up to your eyeballs, John.” Donovan rubbed his hand over his facial stubble. “You need to tell me where she is so I can help you, buddy.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “John.”

  “Look, Harley. Janette Sullivan and that baby could be dead because I screwed up. I’m not going to let that happen to Al . . . Adriane.”

  “So, you’re just gonna go solo on this? Toliver’s not gonna like that shit at all. Your ass is seriously on the line here.”

  “And if I tell you where she is yours will be too.”

  “Thanks for the concern, but I can take care of myself.”

  “Okay. You wanna do something? Help me track down the people who took Janette Sullivan. If we can find them they could lead us to Rivera.”

  “Where do we start?”

  “With Obafemi’s daughter in Chicago or his son. They may have heard from him.”

  “Okay, I’m on it. What are you gonna do?”

  “I need to check into something. After that I’m going back over to Monrovia to canvass the neighborhood again. Somebody has to remember seeing something.”

  Remembering what Alex asked him to do in regard to keeping his promise to contact Betty Ellis if anything happened to her, he logged in to his computer and searched out anything current he could find on Tirrell Ellis. The query turned up information regarding the 2008 shooting that left him paralyzed, and the details that allegedly tied him to Xavier Rivera. He also found the names of Betty Ellis listed as his grandmother and that of his brother Kevin, who was also shot. There was no other mention of Tirrell beyond the shooting, but he did discover that Kevin Ellis was now a district attorney. He deleted his search history before logging off the computer. Examining the envelope Alex entrusted him with, he pondered his next move.