Capture the Night

by Cheryl Pierson

  Carter glanced at his watch. Ten minutes. Twenty pizzas could mean anything. They had had no idea up to now of the number of hostages, even though they’d been trying to pull a partial list of hotel guests together from local travel agencies and other sources. It had been very slow going, and unpredictable.

  “How soon will the pizzas be here? And, dammit, where is my direct feed?”

  The rookie shrugged. “Technical problems, sir. And as for the pizzas, that many of ’em, it’ll take ’em longer. They told ’em an hour at first, and McShane threw a fit. Said they better be here in forty-five minutes or someone else gets it.” He raised a brow. “Guess he’s hungry.”

  Carter fixed him with a cool stare. “No, Officer Barker, he’s crazy. And it’ll behoove you to remember that. Now, go get me one of those so-called technicians, and he better be bringing me a direct feed to wiretap when he shows up, or it’s your ass.”

  “Mine? But—”

  “Get going. Oh, wait, Barker—”

  “Ray.”

  Carter half-turned at the sound of Pete Logan’s voice behind him, low and urgent. He slowly put his back to Barker with a dismissive motion for him to get going. Why hadn’t he seen this one coming? He’d told Pete not fifteen minutes earlier how he knew what to expect from him and his brother. So, why hadn’t he headed this one off somehow?

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  “I want to do it. Let me go in.”

  “Pete—you’ve already been through—”

  “That’s why I have to—to be the one! For Levi!” Pete managed to stop himself just short of revealing what he really intended. But Carter was no fool.

  The captain shook his head. “Huh-uh. You’ll get inside, do something crazy, get yourself killed—and you won’t even care, because you’re already so upset.”

  Pete took a step toward Carter, burning with an unholy need. But his voice was calm, mesmerizing. “Upset? Upset? I’m not ‘upset’. I’m fuckin’ pissed off, Ray. Can you understand that?” He moistened his dry lips. “How can you say no to me? How can you? Who else would you send, huh? Ramirez? He’s got three kids and a wife, crazy about him. Wanna make two widows tonight? Huh? What about Johnson? Takes care of his blind father. Let’s see, how about Barker, here? Young, inexperienced—”

  “Hey!” Barker began indignantly, but Pete froze him with a look, pointing his finger a few centimeters from the rookie’s nose.

  “You shut up and get out of here, sonny.”

  Pete turned back to Carter as Barker swallowed hard and left. “Ray, I’m the one. I’m your man. I gotta get in there. And I don’t have anybody dependin’ on me. Not like the others.”

  “Johnny’ll have my hide—”

  “Johnny may not have the chance. He may already be dead, especially if they made him right off.”

  “Pete—”

  “I’m volunteering, Boss. I gotta do this.” He put out his hand. “Please. I’ll never ask you for another thing. Not even for that promotion test I’m due for.”

  “You might not be around by then, if you go in there, Pete.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  The captain shook his head. “That’s what I’m afraid of. You—taking chances.”

  “Thanks, Boss.” Pete was already walking away. “You won’t regret it.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that very much.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Alexa couldn’t get back to Johnny fast enough. She stood, the rag still clutched in her fist, hurrying back the way she had come. Someone was in here. Someone else. Someone. Someone. Friend or enemy? And what would she be able to do about it?

  Nothing.

  She ran, nearly tripping over connective tubing that lay in the floor. She had to get to him. He was in danger. What could she do?

  Nothing.

  She rounded the corner and ran to the bed, dropping to her knees, breathless. “Johnny,” she whispered. He looked much as he had when she’d left him. She touched his forehead with no reservation this time, skimming back the dark hair. Thankful, so thankful, just to hear his shallow breathing.

  He shuddered with chills, sinking deeper into the mattress. His skin was hot. She couldn’t wait any longer, no matter what. And, she reasoned, if the person who had cleaned up the blood meant them harm, why would they have gone to the trouble to clean up the mess first? That seemed, somehow, more protective than anything else. Or was that just wishful thinking on her part?

  The beer can had been moved closer to the bed. She almost knocked it over when she started to stand, catching it just in time. Perplexed, she looked at the empty space where she’d set the can before she’d left earlier. It was too far away for him to reach. There was no way he could have gotten to it without getting up—he couldn’t have done that.

  She fingered one of the metal buttons of his jean jacket. And she began to notice other things. The quilt pulled up carefully around him, tucked in to keep him warm. An extra pillow—one that hadn’t been there before she’d left. And the jacket.

  Dear God, the jacket.

  She had forgotten all about it. After they’d managed to get it off and lay it aside, she had not given it another thought. But someone had.

  Someone had picked it up off the floor, carried it away from the pooling blood, and brought it here. To cover him with. The same person who had covered their tracks, wiped away every trace of them.

  She looked around the area, but she knew she wouldn’t see him. Not unless he wanted to be seen. She stood up slowly and reached into her pants pocket. Drawing out the St. Christopher’s medal, she fastened it around her neck. She would wear it long enough to take out the bullets, do what she could for Johnny.

  Then, she’d put it on Johnny for protection. First, her, so that she could take care of him; then Johnny, so he would have every bit of care she could give him.

  I won’t leave you, Johnny Logan. And you…you stay with me. With trembling hands, she bent to unsheath his knife once more. He was depending on her.

  For everything.

  Chapter 9

  From the shadows, Daniel watched. They were in his place—the place his brother, Ronnie, had found for him to stay. The passage of days was marked by Ronnie’s visits up here, when he came to work. He was the head maintenance man here at The Riverwind Hotel. He came in the evenings, and checked the equipment. Sometimes, he brought food. But Daniel always had sandwich makings, just in case Ronnie didn’t bring anything.

  Ronnie was pretty smart, to think of this. It had sure gotten Daniel’s ass out of a sling, and he was grateful. He just wondered how long he was going to have to live up here. At first, he’d been lonely. At least, before the Donut World thing had happened, he’d been free. He’d been able to go where he wanted, talk to people—not that there were all that many people who wanted to talk to him—but some of them had. And then, he’d had to come up here to live, where there wasn’t nobody. Up here, at first, it had been real lonesome and whatnot. But then, he’d found a way to fight it. He had discovered a way into the ductwork that ran through the building like a maze. From inside there, he could go anywhere he wanted. He could watch the people who came to The Riverwind, listen to them—and learn all kinds of things. It was his own private passageway back to the living world again—the world he’d been forced to abandon two years ago, when that Donut World thing had happened.

  He’d killed a man. They’d been fighting over a box of Donut World Winners, the best donuts known to man. Daniel’s lips quirked in the darkness of his hiding place. He watched Alexa—“Lex”, as he’d come to think of her—begin to carefully pull away Johnny Logan’s blood-stiff clothing and the makeshift bandaging she had applied just a little while ago

  Logan was still out of it. That was good, Daniel thought. He’d had experience with this kind of thing, himself. Having been wounded in Nam, years ago, he remembered that getting the slug dug out of him was worse than when it had gone in. He shook his head slightly. His shoulder still pained him when the weather c
hanged, but it was his head that give him the most problems. Sometimes, he could see things real clear—like they were meant to be. Other times, he wasn’t sure about anything, and he cursed God for even letting him live through that landmine. That had sure scrambled him up good. They’d all thought he would die, but he’d fooled them. Just couldn’t remember so good anymore.

  Usually, he knew right from wrong, but not always… Lex lay a hand across Logan’s forehead, lookin’ mighty worried.

  Well, all along he’d known it wasn’t right, killin’ that other guy for a box of fried flour with sprinkles—them Donut World Winners. But dammit, he’d been hungry. Maybe that other guy had been, too.

  He didn’t remember that guy’s name. Killed a man and didn’t even know his name. But he wasn’t the only one… And sometimes, Daniel kind of thought that guy might’ve been someone he’d thought of as a friend, at one time, anyways. But he wasn’t sure. And it made his head tired just thinking about it; just trying to remember his face. Ronnie told him not to think about it, because it made his brain tired, and whatnot. He shook his head, felt one of the loose strands of hair catch in the metal seam of the tubing behind him.

  He hoped Lex would look around. He’d left her some things on the table beside the refrigerator. But she was so intent on what she was doing—searching through her purse for something—she wouldn’t see the shoebox with the things she’d need…not unless he called her attention to it somehow. Didn’t know how he’d do that without scaring the hell out of her.

  He could see the anxiety in her expression, though, from where she sat on the bed, half-turned toward him. He imagined what she would look like, happy. The images of her few brief smiles thus far filled his head, and he closed his eyes. She was beautiful.

  Daniel figured her to be a good twenty years younger than him, maybe more. Not that she’d ever give him a second glance. Not with Johnny Logan in the picture.

  No. It didn’t matter if Logan had been there or not. She wouldn’t be interested in an ugly, homeless man like him. A murderer.

  He drew his chapped top lip down tight, worrying it with his teeth, running his tongue over it again and again, feeling the rough edges of skin. He wasn’t handsome, and he didn’t need the bathroom mirror to tell him so. Unconsciously, he ran his fingertips across the crooked bridge of his nose and trailed them slowly down his bristled cheek as he watched Lex do exactly that with the dampened cloth she moved across Logan’s face.

  He let his lids slide shut a moment. His hard hands poorly mimicked Lex’s gentle care, and he wondered, for an instant, what it would feel like to have a woman—even one who was not as beautiful as Alexa Bailey was—care for him like that. As if that would ever happen.

  But he could watch. He could pretend she cared for him. Seemed like he’d lived his whole life on dreams.

  Why wouldn’t she notice what he’d brought her? The shoebox was in plain sight. He’d made sure of that. Alexa needed it. She needed him.

  Fascinated, he watched as she tried to wash away the blood from around the bullet wound in Logan’s side. The rag was saturated with blood. She stood up hesitantly. Daniel’s eyes never left her. He knew she was debating with herself over what to do…whether to leave Logan alone for the few minutes it would take…and knowing that she had no choice. Finally, she turned away from Logan and hurried to the bathroom to rinse the bloody cloth. He could do it now, he thought, while she was gone. If he hurried.

  He eased himself out away from his safe place. He knew how to walk without making a sound. It was one of his gifts. Quietly, he made his way to the table and put his hands around the battered red and white Nike shoebox, then laid it on the bed.

  He could hear her shutting off the water. Then the air conditioning system kicked on, and he could hear nothing but the roar of the compressors. He risked a quick look at Johnny Logan, noting the ruddy flush in his cheeks, even in the dim light. Logan’s eyes were closed and he lay flat on his back, unmindful of the spot where the bullet lodged.

  He’s not feeling anything right now.

  There was blood everywhere, and it made Daniel feel strange. Almost like he was back in Nam again with his own blood pouring from his head, soaking him like red spattering rain, until he passed out.

  He turned away. Alexa would be coming soon. He didn’t want to frighten her. His long legs ate up the distance back to where he’d been before.

  Back to your safe place, you freak. You’ve done all you can do. For now, at least.

  He would watch, just for a moment longer. He wanted to see her face when she discovered the shoebox. There were things in it she could use. He wanted to see her smile when she opened it. From the shadows, behind the pipes and ductwork, he waited, his breath slow and still as he moistened his lips in anticipation, heedless of their roughness.

  Lex crossed the distance from the bathroom to the bed anxiously. Daniel could see she was afraid. He felt sorry for her. She was brave, and he liked that in her. He liked that she hadn’t screamed or fainted…she’d barely even cried.

  The moment she saw the box on the bed, she stopped. Daniel could hear her small gasp of surprise. It came just as the compressor turned off, leaving their corner of the building silent, except for the sound she made, her hand going to her mouth, eyes rounding.

  She glanced around the space. He knew she was looking for him. It brought a faint smile to his lips. She would never see him, unless he allowed her to. She scanned the intricate maze all around her momentarily, then took those last steps to Logan’s bedside. She didn’t smile, though, and Daniel felt a lump of disappointment in his chest. He liked to see her smile. She was a beautiful woman. She looked scared, more than anything else, and he didn’t like to make her afraid.

  With tentative fingers, she reached out to touch the box, and Daniel cursed himself for not having the forethought to remove the lid. In light of what was happening down below, maybe she thought this was some kind of bomb or something…

  “Open it,” he mouthed silently.

  She swallowed hard, her hand over her mouth. Carefully, she sat down on the bed.

  Daniel closed his eyes and tried to send her a mind message. Open it, he thought, as hard as he could.

  And she must’ve got it that time, he figured.

  As if she had heard the silent entreaty from the shadows, Lex rested her fingertips under the box lid and slowly lifted it.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  “Pete, I’m trusting you not to do something—foolish.” Captain Carter had been about to say “not to do something stupid,” but he knew better. Pete Logan was not stupid, by any stretch of the imagination. Carter just hoped Logan wouldn’t try any heroics, taking up the pizza and drinks.

  Carter had spoken with McShane earlier by phone, guaranteeing Pete’s safe passage—if such a guarantee could be believed.

  Pete shook his head. “No, don’t worry, Boss. Just going to do a little delivery, that’s all.” He unbuckled his gun and handed it to Carter. “Take care of this for me, willya?” He shot Carter a familiar grin. “An’ stop worryin’, Ray. I swear, you’re like a mother hen.”

  Carter glowered, took a drag from the now ever-present cigarette. “I don’t like this, Pete. I shoulda picked any number of other guys to do this. Hell, you’ve just lost your partner, we don’t know where Johnny is—”

  Pete’s eyes clouded, the smile evaporating. “Yeah…well, you leave it up to me, Ray.” He nodded toward a group of officers standing together a few feet away. “See how relieved they look? They’re just glad it’s not them goin’ in.” His lips twisted wryly as he turned to look at Carter. “I don’t see the volunteers lined up. Nobody’s fighting me for this assignment—are they, Ray?”

  Carter didn’t answer for a few moments. He looked down at the gun Pete held in his hand, then back up to the younger man’s solemn gaze. “No. And there’s a damn good reason why they’re not ‘lined up’ as you say. It’s a fuckin’ suicide mission.”

  “Kamikaze, huh?” Pete
smiled, then turned to look toward a couple of uniforms who were escorting the pizza delivery worker toward where he and Carter stood. Their progress was slow. The delivery driver was pulling a cart loaded with pizza boxes, two-litre bottles of various soft drinks, and several bags of ice. Napkins, cups and containers of crushed peppers and parmesan cheese lay tucked into one corner.

  Pete looked back at Carter. “I’ll just be pulling my pizza cart rather than nosediving my plane.” He shrugged. “Kinda hard to get ‘foolish’ with a pizza cart, Boss. No worries there.”

  Carter rubbed his chin. “Yeah. Guess you’ve got a point. But you know what I mean, Pete. You just walk it up to the door and walk away…”

  “Yes, sir.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Pete took the handle of the cart from the relieved pizza delivery boy.

  “My boss said to wait for the cart. We use it when we cater—”

  “Tell him we’ll bring it back by when we’re through,” Carter said, his irritation poorly concealed.

  “Uh—okay. Sure.”

  Carter turned his back on him to look at Pete once more. “Remember what I said.”

  “Sure, I remember. No heroics, no foolishness, and no kamikaze.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So’m I, Ray.” Pete nodded toward the hotel. “How about calling and letting ’em know I’m coming so’s I don’t get shot?”

  Carter had already begun dialing the number. “Good luck, Pete.”

  “Thanks.” Pete turned around and started for the doors, the cart surprisingly easy to maneuver. As he passed the other men, they called to him, wishing him well. Pete could hear the belief that he was a dead man, already, in their voices; see the sympathy in the looks that came his way. He kept a poker face, responding to them almost automatically. He couldn’t believe he’d pulled it off. This was just what he needed, and it had dropped right into his lap.

  He cleared the perimeter, turning once to be sure everything in the cart was okay—that nothing had fallen off the side. The wheels sounded like a freight train.