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13th Avenue

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by Cyrus Winters




  13th Avenue

  CYRUS WINTERS

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  13th Avenue

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  EPILOGUE

  KEEP IN TOUCH

  PROLOGUE

  Frost. Atmosphere. Electricity.

  The freezer chest’s compressor could be heard from all corners of the convenience store.

  A gloved hand reached down to the screen and slid it back, unleashing a blast of cold air. The mist soon cleared, and a blue-colored sports drink was extracted.

  A moment’s hesitation.

  Enough time for the ice crystals to shimmer.

  Then he slid the screen back shut.

  Detective Nicholas Graves turned and walked up the aisle, towards the front of the store. He could see there was a young lady with black hair and pink tips being served by the attendant. He looked for her car out near the pumps but couldn’t see it. It must’ve been somewhere else.

  “Don’t you want your change?” the attendant exclaimed as the woman made a quick exit.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” she hollered.

  The sliding doors opened and shut.

  Nicholas approached the counter.

  The attendant was a friendly looking Asian man in his fifties. Graves’ gaze drifted across to his nametag before setting the drink down.

  Jason.

  The attendant scanned his drink. “$3.99.”

  “One moment,” Graves said. He reached into his pocket and took out a folded sheet of paper. “That’s for you. Take it.”

  The attendant looked at him uncertainly. Then unfolded the paper.

  A face.

  Of a man.

  A photo of a car below him.

  “This man is wanted by police,” Graves stated. “He could be coming through this way in the next few hours. Possibly tomorrow. Or the day after. Take a good look at him. And the car. You’ll see there’s a license plate there.”

  “What did he do?”

  “If he stops here, it’s important you call us as soon as you recognize him. You’ve got the local Sheriff’s phone number on the back. As well as my precinct’s.”

  The attendant turned it over.

  “As well as my personal cell number,” Graves added.

  “Which one do I call if I see him?”

  Graves swallowed. “All three.”

  “Is he dangerous?”

  Graves nodded. “Be careful. But keep him here as long as you can, if you’re able to.”

  Jason seemed uncomfortable. He put his hand over the paper and slid it over the side and underneath the counter. “Is that it?”

  Graves picked up the bottle and replaced it with a twenty-dollar-bill.

  “Keep the change.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Today was a Sunday, so Detective Graves was alone today. His partner was at home, spending time with his family. Enjoying a picnic or a barbeque or some form of recreational activity.

  Detective Graves didn’t have a family.

  He twisted off the safety cap on his sports drink and raised the bottle to his lips. The blue liquid sloshed down his throat and tasted how real water should taste. Sweet. Gentle.

  A subtle calm.

  He stared up into the pale grey clouds blocking out the sun and then let his gaze drift across the horizon. A couple of dark cars zipped down the adjacent road. Otherwise things looked deserted.

  Graves walked back towards his vehicle and opened the door. He took out a sheet of paper and pressed it against the side of the car, crossing off this gas station’s name with a black marker. There were many other stations crossed off above this one. And many more below it.

  Graves sighed.

  There were other photos he had inside the car. Photos of a boy who’d gone missing. Nicholas had already viewed them enough times he didn’t need them to refresh his memory. He’d burned that face, those eyes, that smile into his brain. Something worth remembering. Perhaps the only thing.

  He climbed through the driver’s seat and sat down pulling the door closed. He fastened his seatbelt and placed his keys in the ignition, switching it on.

  As the engine rumbled, he picked up his blue water and took another swig from the bottle.

  Something red appeared in his rearview mirror.

  Graves squinted. Tried to get a better look.

  He put the drink down and picked up a copy of the sheet he’d given the attendant.

  The red car was getting closer.

  Rapidly.

  Mirror to photo.

  Photo to mirror.

  The car sped by the gas station.

  “Oh shit!” Nicholas gasped. He wound down his window and whacked his attachable siren on top the roof, bringing the stick out to drive.

  He hit the accelerator.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  This was a long road. A wide road. A main road.

  Paddocks covered with white snow littered the peripherals. There were buildings that could be seen. But you had to look off to the distance. And you had to look hard.

  The red car had a stretch ahead of Detective Graves, but he was gaining. As the driver was already speeding so it was hard to tell whether he’d noticed he was being chased yet.

  No doubt, he soon would.

  The approaching road ahead of them broke into two, with another road branching out uphill and to the right. The red car took this turn, swerving out in front of Graves. Graves brought his arm forward, turning the wheel. He spied a street sign from his eye’s corner.

  Both cars were now on 13th Avenue.

  Tall shadows from a pine-tree forest came at them from both sides of the road. Over the hill the driver went, and Graves followed, only a few car-lengths behind.

  Out on the straight, the driver finally slowed down.

  Graves caught up and both cars came to a stop.

  Graves switched the siren off and pushed his door open. He checked the plates in correspondence with the plates on his piece of paper. They didn’t match.

  But it looked like the same car.

  Graves shut the door, one hand brushing against his holster for reassurance. He approached the red car from the side.

  A bearded man with glazed eyes looked up from the wheel, smiling at Graves.

  Graves motioned for him to wind down his window.

>   “What can I do for you, officer?” the man eagerly asked.

  For a moment Graves was unsure how to answer. His face didn’t match the suspect’s.

  Similar.

  But not the same.

  “License and registration,” Graves said stiffly.

  “Sure thing.”

  As the man reached over to the glovebox he noticed a young boy sitting in the passenger seat beside him.

  BINGO

  “Freeze!” Graves shouted pulling his gun out.

  The man’s hand was just outside the box. “Officer, what do you –”

  “Don’t move a Goddamn muscle. Understand?”

  He ripped the driver’s door open.

  “Get out of the car, now!”

  “Okay…”

  “Out! Now! On the ground!”

  The man fell out onto the concrete.

  As Graves edged towards him the boy climbed out of the passenger seat and raced around the car towards them. “Dad – what’s happening?” the boy shrieked.

  Graves looked up.

  Opened and shut his eyes.

  Different face.

  “Just – stay where you are,” the father pleaded. “Everything’s going to be okay – just –”

  Graves looked at the kid, confused. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  The boy backed away around the car.

  Graves followed him. “Are you Toby?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “Will you leave my son alone?” the driver demanded.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Graves hissed.

  The boy’s eyes bulged. Then he took off.

  Right for the trees.

  “Stop!” Graves shouted. “Come back!”

  The driver was on his feet. “Oh Christ. Matthew! FUCK!”

  Graves turned to him. “Sir, can you –”

  But the driver was already after his son towards the trees.

  “Shit,” Graves cursed. “Shit, shit –”

  He ran after them.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The trees didn’t last forever. In less than a minute the three of them had reached a snowy bank, the boy still way out ahead. At least, Graves reasoned, they wouldn’t lose him from here.

  In front of him the father fell down, his foot caught in something.

  “Aargh!” the man yelled.

  Graves came over and saw his foot was lodged in a waterhole.

  “It’s stuck, help me.”

  Graves got on his knees and wrestled the man’s foot free.

  It came out, flapping all over the place.

  Freezing.

  Graves looked up. The boy had stopped running. He was out in the middle of nothing, staring back at them. Graves took a few steps in his direction, then noticed the snow below him merge with a layer of ice. He put his boot on it and saw it immediately start to crack.

  “Matthew!” the man cried, hobbling over. “Come back!”

  “Just a second,” Graves whispered. “I’m not sure if –”

  The man continued past him. “Matthew! Get here now!”

  Graves saw Matthew shake his head.

  To one side then the other.

  The father put his hands over his eyes trying to see. “Matthew!”

  Matthew took a few steps towards them and then the ice shattered below his feet.

  He dropped out of sight.

  “MATTHEW!” the father screamed.

  He went to run but Graves held him back. “You can’t – the ice –”

  The father’s elbow smashed into his face, striking him, and Graves’ hands went to his holster as a reflex.

  Before realizing it, Graves had shot the father in the back and now he was lying face down on the snow.

  “No,” Graves whispered. “Oh God!”

  He dropped the gun and fell beside the man, turning him over.

  Still alive.

  “I’m sorry,” Graves said. “I didn’t mean to –”

  “My son,” the man choked. “Save him – please –”

  “I can’t,” Graves said. “He’s all the way –”

  The man grabbed his jacket. “You’re killing him, you son of a bitch.”

  Graves stood back up, the man’s arms falling away.

  He shuddered violently. Anger and rage consuming his entire face.

  Graves stepped back.

  He looked out to the ice again and saw there was still no sign of the boy.

  “You killed him,” the man said defiantly. “You’re a murderer.”

  “No,” Graves sobbed. “I didn’t. It wasn’t –”

  “You fucking killed him…”

  Graves bent his knees. Trying to block out the accusations. Trying to silence the pointing finger.

  He closed his eyes. Putting things together in his mind.

  Seeing the truth of what had just happened.

  A few more moments passed.

  Then he stood back up.

  And shot the driver in the head.

  CHAPTER 1

  Three Years Later

  Detective Nicholas Graves was sitting hunched over in a downtown café, waiting for his partner to return from the bathroom. The cheesecakes had arrived a few moments earlier, along with Graves’ flat white and his partner’s cappuccino. He hadn’t touched his cake yet, but the coffee cup was in hand. Any second now and she’d be back. He still wasn’t quite sure how she was going to take the news he had for her.

  She’d fall into line, hopefully.

  “Nicholas, what are you doing?” her cheery voice piped up behind him.

  Graves grinned as she moved by him.

  “I told you I didn’t want anything. This stuff isn’t good for you.”

  Stasia sat down in the booth opposite. Eyebrows raised. Lips parted. Was that surprise or delight that touched her face?

  “It’s a special occasion,” Graves said. “Nine months since we were assigned as partners.”

  “Nine months? Already?”

  “To the day.”

  Stasia smiled. She looked genuinely pleased.

  Her happiness had a reciprocating effect on Graves. He’d liked Stasia since the pair first met. He was attracted to her too. She had short blond hair in a bowl-style cut. Big eyelashes with blue mascara. Athletic body. Reasonable tits. Of course, nothing was going to happen there.

  Detective Graves was now a married man.

  “You know,” Stasia said swiping a chunk of cake with her fork, “I never took you for a sentimental guy. I guess I’ve been wrong before.”

  “Trust is extremely important to me,” Graves confided. “I don’t open up easily.”

  “I’ve been straight with you since day one,” Stasia said. “What you see is what you get.”

  “I know you have, Stasia.” His head tilted in her direction. “I’ve been doing this a little longer than you have. There comes a day where doing the right thing isn’t always so easy. The shortest way, isn’t always the best way.”

  Stasia swallowed. “Right.”

  “What I’m trying to say is, sometimes you have to make hard choices. You have to be selective about what you share with others.”

  “God, I’m glad I’m not so cynical.”

  “Stasia. Seriously.”

  Her eyes flashed at him. “What Nicholas?” she teased. “What’s gotten you all so worked up?”

  Graves chuckled. “The walls between us are coming down. It’s time I let you in on a few things. Okay?”

  “Share, share,” Stasia said. “I won’t be fazed.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Stasia stopped chewing. He had her attention now.

  “We don’t get a lot of downtime,” Graves continued. “And you know I spend as much time as I can with my wife and baby son –”

  “They have names, don’t they?”

  Graves leaned back. “Patricia and Glen. Yes. As I was saying, I don’t share with them what I’m working on. Work stays at work. Most of the time.”
r />   “Well, that sounds pretty normal.”

  “There are aspects of work I don’t share with our superiors either. Or you, for that matter.”

  Stasia frowned. “What aspects?”

  “At times, I look into things when I’m off the grid. Cases that aren’t mine. Sometimes, aren’t anybody’s.”

  “Why?”

  “Well. I’m not sure how to put this. I’m not always stimulated by the work that’s in front of me. I like to reach for higher things.”

  “And where is this going? You’re trying to get on my good side, aren’t you? What are you prepping me for?”

  Graves nodded. “You got me. I do need your help on something. A case I’m not sharing with anyone.”

  “Well, look. That’s okay, I guess,” Stasia said. “As long as you’re not going to ask me to do anything illegal.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Right. So, fill me in.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “We’re partners, aren’t we? I want to help my partner out.”

  Graves had another sip of his coffee. “You. Are. Adorable.”

  Stasia batted her eyes at him. “Why thank you, Nicholas.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Plates cleaned. Coffee drunk. Time to leave.

  It was just after a quarter to four pm.

  Detective Graves had already planned ahead. They didn’t have far to walk. Across the road, down the street and then to the right. As they left the car park he noticed Stasia scribbling on her notepad.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Graves murmured. “What’s that for?”

  “Viktor gave it to me. It’s supposed to help.”

  “Dr. Taggart, you mean.”

  “Right. He said I should try and clear the negative stuff out.”

  “You don’t need any help with that, do you?”

  Stasia’s mouth fell open. “He’s been a big help, actually. Since…”

  Graves saw the pain in her eyes. “Oh. Right. Of course.”

  There was a pause. Stasia forced a smile. “Well, you’ve given me the basics, but I want the details.”

  “What details?”

  “Everything. Start at the beginning. When did you first get involved in this?”

  They stopped at a pedestrian crossing. Graves cleared his throat.

  “About a week ago I got a tip off that there was some unusual stuff going on at this theatre up the road.”

 

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