by Jon Mills
Garcia groaned. Tears streaked his face.
“Dana Grant.” He fished into his pocket and pulled out the folded-up photo of her and shoved it in front of his face. “Remember her?”
He stared at it, his eyes shifted to Jack’s and he shook his head.
“Wrong answer.”
Bone crunched in his second hand as Jack brought the hammer down even harder than he had on the first. Garcia’s cry was so loud that Jack had to stuff Garcia’s own sock in his mouth.
“Oh detective, this night is not going to end well. Stop dicking me around or I’ll move to the feet next.” Jack sniffed and wiped blood off his hands and slapped Garcia a few times. “Hey, hey, focus!” He brought up the photo again. “A week ago. Santa Fe Plaza. If you don’t recognize her, then perhaps you might explain what you were doing staring at her so intently?”
Jack stabbed the blown-up photo and pointed to Garcia.
Garcia’s eyes scanned the photo, and Jack removed the sock from his mouth.
He sneered. “I’m not telling you shit.”
Jack nodded slowly and stared down at his feet and then set the hammer on the table. “Ah, you know what, let’s skip the theatrics and move straight to the final curtain.” He turned and picked up a blowtorch, removed his cigarette lighter and fired it up. A sharp blue flame burst to life. It hissed heating up the air.
“No. No. Please.”
“Then start talking,” Jack said waving the flame back and forth in front of his face.
“I…” Garcia stuttered, fear masking his face.
Jack cupped a hand to his ear and leaned closer. “What’s that? I didn’t hear you.”
“I—I was just told to deliver her.”
“Deliver her. By who?”
“I don’t know.”
Jack offered back a confused expression.
“OK, we’ll come back to that. Deliver her where?”
He shook his head. “I can’t. He’ll kill me.”
Jack leaned forward and cupped a hand around his neck. “Uh, news flash, Garcia,” he said bringing the flame closer to his face so he could feel the heat. He let it linger, hoping to avoid inflicting pain on him. As much as it looked as if he enjoyed it, Jack didn’t. The thirst to prove himself that he had when he was younger was gone. He’d left it far behind along with his life in the mob but this guy wasn’t giving him many options.
“I can’t.”
“Yes you can. Tell me and this all stops.”
He shook his head and Jack gritted his teeth, he was losing his grip on the part of him that he’d buried deep inside.
Garcia’s head dropped then he raised it again. “Please, I have a family.”
Jack stared back at him blankly. “So did I.” Jack grabbed the sock and jammed it back in his mouth then brought the flame down to his right foot and began to melt the skin. Garcia cried out but his scream was muffled. Jack didn’t leave it there long, just enough to cause the skin to bubble. He sat back up and waited until Garcia stopped screaming before he removed the sock from his mouth. As soon as he did Garcia began to spill what he knew. Everyone had a breaking point.
“I don’t know who wanted her, only that if I didn’t bring her to the priest he would kill me and my family. That’s the truth. He sent a photo of my kid here.”
“Where is it?”
“At the department.”
“Why didn’t you notify them?”
Garcia stared back and for a second Jack got a sense that he was lying.
“Why?” Jack demanded
“He said he was watching, tracking my every move.”
“And you believed him?”
“He made it clear.”
Jack studied him. Was he lying?
“So you heard his voice?”
“It wasn’t him directly. Someone else speaking on his behalf.”
“Or it could have been him. What did he sound like? Young? Old?”
“His voice was muffled. I don’t know. I just wanted to protect my family.”
“Or maybe you wanted to cover up your infidelity.”
Garcia shook his head, wincing in pain.
Jack rose and walked over to the curtain and peered out. It was still dark except for a few lights of homes in the distance. He looked at Garcia’s pale reflection in the window. It was possible he was telling the truth.
“And the priest? The one you visited today to confess your sins.”
“I wasn’t confessing my sins.”
He winced in pain.
“No shit,” Jack said turning and looking at him, and then he jerked his head. “So I’m guessing Mrs. Garcia doesn’t know about the whore that went down on you today?”
Garcia shook his head.
“Figures,” Jack replied walking back over. “So you followed Dana back to Colorado?”
“Colorado?” He looked baffled. It was the first thing he’d said that genuinely looked authentic. “I picked her up here in Santa Fe. Flashed my badge and made up a story about her resembling someone who had stolen from a store. I told her I had to take her down to the station except we stopped at the church. The priest, and several other men were waiting to take her from there.”
“To where?”
“I don’t know. I swear. I just did my part.”
“Your part.” Jack nodded, feeling out of control. He could feel his anger getting the better of him.
“Did they kill her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then tell me this. Why did you go see the priest today if it wasn’t to confess?”
“I was instructed to after the murder this morning.”
“Cosmo?”
He nodded.
“Were you responsible for that?” Jack asked.
“No. I didn’t know about it until I got the call to send in officers.”
“How does he communicate with you?”
“I received a text this morning. And a phone call before that.”
“So you have a number?”
He nodded.
“Where’s your phone?”
He groaned again, and then jerked his head towards the kitchen. “It’s out there on the counter as you come in the door. Where the keys are.”
Jack headed out down the corridor and to the back door where a small bronze bowl had been set. Inside were multiple keys but no cell. He glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t hear Garcia moving but was convinced he was playing some kind of game. Jack headed back to the living room. He was still tied securely to the seat. “It’s not there.”
“I thought I placed it there,” Garcia replied. “Maybe I left it in the car.”
Jack returned a steely gaze. “Don’t play games with me.”
“Does it look like I could?”
Garcia shuffled a little to demonstrate that he couldn’t get out even if he wanted to. Jack walked over and tugged on the restraints. None of them were loose. He’d have to be Harry Houdini to get out of that, and even if he could he’d have a hard time trying anything with two broken hands and a fried foot. Jack strolled over to the wall and yanked out the phone cord and snapped off the end just in case.
“Is the car unlocked?”
He nodded. Jack eyed him one last time before heading for the garage. After accessing it through a door in the home, he entered the car and immediately noticed it wasn’t in the center console. He opened the glove compartment but that was just filled with gas receipts, and a car owner’s manual. What the hell was he playing at?
He leaned further in and checked beneath the seats just in case it had slipped down the side. Nothing. He was just about to get out when he heard a loud crash coming from the house. Jack sprinted into the house and dashed to the living room to find the curtains blowing in the breeze and glass everywhere.
Garcia was still in the chair, but it had tipped backwards and his head slumped to one side. Brain matter was on the tiling and he was now sporting a dark bullet wound.
Jack grasped his Glock t
ight and pulled back to the wall.
His heart hammered in his chest.
As he pressed against the wall and slid up to take a look he heard the sound of tires squealing and saw a band of yellow flash across the house.
He cut the corner and saw a muscle car swerve out.
Not wasting another second, he rushed into the kitchen and scooped up the keys from the bowl and headed into the garage to fire up the sedan. He didn’t search for a garage door opener. Jack jammed the gearstick into reverse and smashed his boot against the accelerator. The wheels spun sending up smoke as the vehicle plowed into the door tearing it away from all that held it in place. Jack flipped the lights on and backed out at a high rate of speed only to swerve at the last second and slam the gear into drive.
The muscle car’s red taillights were still visible but growing smaller by the second.
Jack gunned the engine and tore away up the road. Homes shot by in his peripheral vision until he was out of the area heading northwest into a desolate area of desert. As hard as Jack tried to catch up to the muscle car it just had way more under the hood. It also didn’t help that once they hit the desert the suspension in the sedan made it feel like he was in a moon buggy. Although he tried to close the distance it eventually became too great. He slammed the brakes on and smashed the steering wheel. He was so close to finding out who was behind it. The red taillights disappeared into the night and he did a U-turn and headed back. He would do one more sweep of the house for the phone and then bounce.
Unfortunately that wouldn’t happen.
By the time he made it back to Garcia’s home, he could see red and blue lights flashing. He brought the car to a crawl, switched off the headlights and backed into the nearest driveway. There he dumped the vehicle and headed off on foot.
Who was behind Dana’s abduction?
Where was she?
What was the priest’s involvement?
And who had taken out Garcia?
There were still so many unanswered questions.
But at least he had one lead — the priest.
Jack broke into a jog, which soon became a fast run. His mind was consumed with questions. Uncovering the truth took precedence over everything else, including the fight he was meant to be at that night. Tyson would have to wait. If Garcia had been taken out, would the priest be next?
Chapter 20
Tyson looked at his phone again waiting for a reply to his text messages. He’d tried phoning Jack but it went straight to voicemail. Where the hell was he? The fight was meant to start ten minutes ago and Pope was furious. The underground fight that night was set in the middle of a wrecker’s yard on the outskirts of the city. Stacks of crumpled, rusted metal loomed overhead like discarded towers in a post-apocalyptic city. Tyson had managed to hold off Pope as long as he could, promising him that Jack would show, but now it looked like he’d have to break that.
Pope stepped forward. “He’s had long enough! You know how much this has cost me tonight?”
“Put me in with him,” Tyson spat out. “I’ll take his place.”
“You?” Pope chuckled and looked at Spike, then back at Tyson, scanning him.
“That crowd out there will go berserk if you don’t give them a fight.”
Pope rolled his lower lip beneath his teeth, considering it.
“These men will chew you up,” Pope said. “But sure, you want to fight, step on up.” He stepped back and Tyson glanced at his phone again. He’d seen these fighters on the circuit. They were no joke. He was confident in his abilities but even he knew his limits. Pope had arranged that evening for Jack to fight three men, one after the other. He wanted to apply pressure and see what kind of stamina he had, he wanted to see if he was up for the challenge of fighting in Albuquerque.
Few got past this stage, and those that did were usually out of commission for two months with severe injuries. That was the thing about the fight circuit, it didn’t get any easier the further you progressed—it got harder. The fighters were better. The risks were higher but then so were the rewards. Tyson removed his jacket and limbered up doing a few stretches. Carla, who had been giving him the cold shoulder since he’d caught her flirting with another man, noticed and eyed him through the crowd but didn’t approach. He wasn’t doing this for her, or even for Jack. This was for Nicky, for his mother, and deep down, for himself. He’d been waiting over a year for the opportunity. He had to know if he had it in him to be the best. As he stepped into the midst of the angry mob who jostled for the best position, he swallowed hard and glanced at his phone one final time before handing it to a friend of his.
“Let’s go to war!”
The crowd went wild as Tyson’s opponent charged forward.
Chapter 21
A crescent moon and thousands of pinpricks in the night’s canopy illuminated the aged church. Jack crouched within the tree line scanning his surroundings. There was no muscle car in the lot, just a burgundy SUV he’d seen earlier. He removed his handgun, held it low and sprinted across empty parking spaces heading for the rear entrance. He gave the door a tug but it was locked. Staying in the shadow of the building he continued around the perimeter to try the side door.
It opened. Jack slipped in and paused, keeping one hand on the door as it closed and listening for movement. There was none. It was dark inside. It smelled musty. There was a vestry off to his left, and several small rooms. It was packed with boxes, paperwork and stacked chairs. He continued on through several doors until he made his way into the sanctuary. There, he saw the priest kneeling with a Bible in one hand. Jack looked around cautiously before approaching him. He didn’t try to hide his gun.
The priest turned his head towards him.
“Where is she?” Jack asked.
“You’re asking the wrong question, Mr. Winchester,” the priest replied, beginning to rise to his feet.
Jack took a few steps forward and pointed the gun at him. “Stay where you are.”
The priest froze. “As you wish.”
“How do you know my name?”
“He said you would come.” He nodded. “He said a lot about you. He called you the angel of death. Is that what you are, Mr. Winchester? Someone who inflicts justice upon those who have harmed others? The one who balances the scales when the law fails?”
“Who is this person?”
“I’ve asked myself the same question. I now believe it’s the devil himself.”
“Give me a name.”
“I can’t.”
Jack snorted. Just like Garcia.
“Then answer this. Why you? Why get involved? What did you do?”
Jack was beginning to think they were nothing more than pawns in a game to be controlled. But how was he selecting them?
The priest didn’t answer him; instead he looked up at the stained glass window with the image of Christ. “Thirty-four years I have followed the Lord. Forsaken all things to live a life in service to him. I never once strayed from that path until…” he trailed off shaking his head and dropping his chin. “At first I thought it was God trying to test me, now I know it was the devil drawing me away.” He brought up a hand to his face to wipe away a tear. “I gave into it for just for a brief moment.” He looked over to Jack. “You know of this struggle, don’t you? I see it in you. We all face it. Light against dark. Good against evil. No one is immune. We are all but one choice away from stepping over that line.”
“I’m not here for a sermon, priest,” Jack said in an impatient tone. “Where is she?”
“I was a different person last year. I didn’t mean to touch the boy in that way. I just wanted to show him God loved him. I apologized after and the boy promised to say nothing. But now God is punishing me. This is my punishment.”
Jack frowned as the priest looked down at the ground.
“He said God would forgive me. That he was a messenger from God sent to give me another chance. That the police would never know if I did exactly what I was told.”
> “Detective Garcia. He visited you today. Why?”
“To tell me that my slate was now clean.” He shook his head. “But my hands aren’t, my soul isn’t. I still see that child. I still see blood.”
Jack offered back a confused expression and then it dawned on him. “You murdered Cosmo?”
The priest looked at him for a second, and then opened the Bible as if he was about to quote scripture. “You must understand. If it got out that I had touched that boy I would have been removed from service. It would have brought shame upon the church. I couldn’t have that. Without this, who am I?”
The priest looked up at the glass window.
“I thought God was testing me like Abraham was told to sacrifice his son but at the last second he intervened.” He paused and got this forlorn expression. “God didn’t intervene. He didn’t intervene,” he said turning towards Jack with a pained expression.
“Priest. Where is Dana?”
The priest shook his head. “I don’t know where they took her. All I can tell you is I saw Arkansas license plates.”
Jack took a few steps forward, but before he could do anything the priest dropped the Bible only to reveal a handgun. The thick black book bounced off the top step and landed with the pages open. Jack noticed a large section cut out where the gun had been. He lifted his eyes to the priest.
“Whoa. Put it down!” he yelled. Jack put a hand out and slowly edged forward.
“It’s too late. For me. For her.”
“Please. She’s all I’ve got.”
“God, forgive me.” The priest closed his eyes.
Jack surged forward in one last desperate attempt to stop him.
The priest raised the barrel to the side of his temple and before Jack could reach him he squeezed the trigger. The sound of the gun echoed loudly in the sanctuary as the priest collapsed to the floor. His body slipped down the steps coming to rest at the bottom.
“NO!” Jack yelled. He slammed his foot against the floor in rage. He was so close. Right then Jack heard the sound of the main door clunking closed. He jerked his head towards the entrance but it was closed. Jack dashed towards the door, swung it back and dared to look out. There was no one there. No other vehicle in the parking lot but he was certain he’d heard it close. He scanned the church aisles and looked down through the pews. No one had entered. Was his mind playing tricks on him?
