The other woman nodded her agreement. “That’s so, could be.” She looked at Jake, her smile revealing a missing tooth. “Don’t bother knockin’ on 202 or 203 ‘cause we’re out here.”
Annie smiled, thanked them, and they went inside. Jake knocked on the first door under a sign reading, “Landlord.” There was no answer.
The next door was eventually opened a crack by a leather-faced old man, a few days growth of beard, a cane in one hand. He peered past the doorframe, poked up his glasses, and squinted at them. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t need it.”
Jake chuckled and held up the photos. “Have you seen either of these two around?”
The old man opened the door a little further, poked a hand out, and pointed a boney finger. “Lemme see that one.” Jake handed him the picture of Thacker. The old man narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Yup.” He pointed at the ceiling. “Upstairs.”
Annie’s heart jumped. “What about the other man?”
The old man shook his head. “Nope.”
“Thank you,” Jake said, and the man closed the door.
Annie moved to the foot of the stairs and looked up, her heart thumping. It had to be apartment 201, directly at the top of the steps, and the door was opening. “Wait. Someone’s coming from the apartment.” She stepped aside and prodded Jake toward the back of the lobby, out of sight of the stairs.
Running shoes squeaked on the steps and footsteps grew louder as the unseen person descended. A pair of legs appeared. “It’s neither one of them,” Annie whispered.
Jake took a step closer, waited, and then strode to the bottom of the stairs. The man froze on the last step, his mouth open, his eyes wide.
“I’m looking for Moses Thacker,” Jake said.
The guy continued to stare, his eyes directly in line with Jake’s as the frightened man stood on the last step. “Never heard of him,” he said at last.
Jake moved in a few inches. “I think you have.”
“Never heard the name before.” The sloppy man shrank back.
“Then what’re you afraid of?”
A shrug, then, “Who says I’m afraid?”
Jake laughed. “Aren’t you?”
“Let me go.” His voice shook, and he tried to move around Jake, but his path was blocked by a hand on his chest.
“What’s your name?” Jake asked.
The man frowned. “Uriah. Uriah Hubert.”
“Well Uriah, is he in the apartment?” Jake asked.
“No. I told you, I don’t know him.”
“Let’s go up and see.”
Uriah held up his hands, chest high in surrender, then turned and trudged up the stairs, keeping a close eye over his shoulder as Jake followed. He unlocked his apartment and pushed the door open. “See for yourself. I … I live alone.”
“Inside,” Jake said, giving the trembling man a push from behind.
Annie followed them inside and glanced around the filthy apartment. A bicycle leaned against the wall to one side of the doorway. A blanket and pillow lay on the worn out couch. In the kitchen, there was one plate in the sink, one cup on the counter.
Jake went into the bedroom, checked the bathroom, then came back and glanced around the living room. He looked at Annie and shrugged.
Annie’s attention was drawn by a newspaper that lay on a shelf by the kitchen counter. She looked closer; it was Wednesday’s paper. She leafed through it, and her eyes narrowed at page 4. An article was missing—ripped out. If she recalled correctly, that was the story on Jackson Badger.
She showed the paper to Jake. A faint smile crossed his lips and he turned to Uriah. “Now Uriah, you’re going to tell me where they are.”
Annie held up the paper for the man to see. She pointed to the missing article. “This is Jeremy Spencer’s work.”
Uriah glanced at the paper, sighed, and dropped onto the couch.
Jake moved in closer, spread his legs, and crossed his arms. “They’re staying with you,” he said. It was a statement, not a question.
Uriah slouched back, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Finally, he said, “They’re gone. They were here but I kicked ‘em out.”
“Gone where?”
Uriah shrugged one shoulder, his neck at an awkward angle as he stared up at Jake. “I … I don’t know. They left this morning. They didn’t say where they were going.”
“Don’t you know it’s illegal to harbor fugitives?” Annie asked, her hands on her hips.
Uriah frowned, his eyes darting back and forth between his questioners. “Who are you people, anyway? Are you cops?”
Annie laughed. “We’re not cops. We’re private investigators.”
Uriah crossed his arms and looked up defiantly. “I don’t have to talk to you.”
“Actually, you do,” Jake said. He leaned over and grasped the shaking man by the shirt and pulled him forward, almost out of his seat. “Because if you don’t, I might get angry. And I’m betting you’re an ex-con.” He pushed Uriah back into the couch, straightened his back, and shrugged. “If you get hurt, who’re they going to believe?”
Uriah held up a hand and stated flatly, “They’re gone and I don’t know where.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Annie said.
Jake thought about that a moment, then took a step back and pointed at the frightened man. “You’d better be telling the truth.”
Uriah jutted his chin. “I told you all I know.”
Jake gave the man one last look of warning as he and Annie left the apartment, closing the door behind them.
“We’re getting closer,” Annie said. “But where do we go from here?” It was a rhetorical question, a question neither one of them could answer.
Chapter 48
Friday, 10:18 AM
JEREMY AND MOE ripped apart some of the cardboard boxes and laid them out on the floor to serve as a makeshift bed. Jeremy lay down and stretched out. It seemed comfortable enough, but he realized it would get cold in the night. Perhaps he should’ve asked Uriah if they could borrow that extra blanket.
Eventually, they would be able to find some cushions for pillows from people’s castoffs on garbage day, and perhaps a mattress, but nobody seemed to throw out blankets.
They would need some form of transportation soon, so he decided to drop back to Uriah’s and pick up the bicycle. While they were there, he would ask about the blanket.
Moe had dragged a set of shelving into the office, climbed up toward the high ceiling, and was removing the cardboard from the window, ten feet from the floor. The sun would make it a lot homier in here by day, and not so dark at night. They were used to that from their time in prison.
Jeremy watched Moe rip off the last piece of cardboard, toss it to the floor, and climb down. The morning sun gave the room a whole different feel as it splayed across the tiled flooring of the office.
“I’m going back to Uriah’s to get the bike, and maybe a blanket,” Jeremy said. “You can come if you want.”
Moe grinned and moved out to the main room of the building, like a dog waiting for its master, eager to get going.
They left the building, moved to the front, and dipped through the fence to the deserted sidewalk. When they reached the apartment building, they entered through the rear door to avoid a pair of gossiping women out front.
“Somebody’s looking for you two guys.” Jeremy turned to see a crotchety old man, his head stuck out through his apartment doorway. “Some big, good looking guy with a woman.” He pointed a finger at Moe. “They were showing around pictures of you. Told him you were staying upstairs. Hope it’s ok.”
Jeremy hadn’t wanted to be seen and the old man had caught him unawares. It was too late now; any damage had already been done. He looked up the stairs and then turned back to the old man. “Are they still up there?”
“Nah. Your friend came down and talked to them. They went up for a minute, then back down and left a few minutes ago.”
“Did they sa
y if they’d be back?”
“Didn’t hear.”
That wasn’t good news. He’d better have a quick conversation with Uriah and then get out of here. Chances are, whoever it was, they might return.
The man disappeared from sight and his door closed. Jeremy beckoned to Moe and they went up the steps and knocked on Uriah’s door. It opened a crack and Uriah’s face appeared, his eyes darting up and down the hallway, finally settling on Jeremy. “What do you want?”
“We came for the bike.”
Uriah swung the door open. “You better hurry and get out of here. Some PIs are snooping around.”
Jeremy stopped halfway through the door. PIs? It might be the Lincolns. If so, they were relentless. “Who was it, Uriah?” he asked.
“They didn’t give any names. Said they was looking for you two.”
“What did you tell them,” Moe demanded, pushing his way past Jeremy.
Uriah looked up at Moe and took a quick step back against the wall. “Told them I didn’t know you. Then they left.”
Moe moved forward, a low growl coming from his throat. “You’re lying, Uriah. You talked. The man downstairs told us.”
Uriah put his hands on Moe’s chest as if to hold him back, but the big guy pressed forward, his nose a few inches away from Uriah’s.
“Take it easy, Moe,” Jeremy said, putting a hand on his friend’s arm.
Moe paid no attention. He pressed Uriah into the wall with one big hand and swung a fist. His quarry ducked and escaped into the living room, the fist mashing into the wall where Uriah’s head used to be.
“Moe. Stop,” Jeremy demanded.
The big lug didn’t hear, his anger rising as he spun toward Uriah, his teeth bared, his fists in the air. He growled again and lumbered toward his prey, who now attempted to hide behind the easy chair.
“Moe,” Jeremy screamed.
The angry man reached down and pushed the chair aside with one sweep of his massive arm. Uriah dove, barely avoiding a crushing fist. He hit the floor, rolled toward the hallway, made it to his feet, and dashed into the bedroom. The door slammed.
Moe followed, huffing and puffing. His tiny eyes, sunk into a crimson face, burned with anger.
Jeremy pulled out the revolver from behind his belt. “Moe, stop or I’ll shoot you.”
The big lug stopped and turned slowly. “You won’t shoot me, Jeremy.” He turned back to face the door, wrapped his huge fists together into a giant battering ram, and with one swing, the door crashed forward and slammed against the inner wall.
Jeremy raced down the hallway, tucking the weapon away as he ran, and tugged at Moe from behind. He found himself being dragged forward as the angry lunk shuffled across the room toward a terrified Uriah.
The frightened man had his back to the wall, a baseball bat poised in his hands. “Don’t come any closer, Moe, or I swear, I’ll kill you.”
Moe snarled and moved in.
The bat whistled through the air as Uriah swung it in warning. “Stay back.”
Moe didn’t listen. As he stepped forward, the swinging bat whacked his upraised arm and slipped from Uriah’s hands. The bat spun across the room, struck the wall, and clattered to the floor.
“Moe. No. Let him go.”
An enormous hand reached out and wrapped itself around Uriah’s throat. Moe squeezed as Uriah sputtered and fought for air. His eyes bugged out, and his tongue flapped around in his open mouth.
Jeremy grabbed Moe’s arm and pulled, but the big man held onto the throat, squeezing and growling until finally Uriah sunk to the floor, his lifeless body no longer trying to breathe, no longer a care in the world.
Moe glared at the body, and then turned, brushed past Jeremy, and lumbered from the room. Jeremy watched him go. It was too bad about Uriah, but he’d done his best to stop his friend.
He sighed and went to the living room. Moe was sitting on the couch, his hands in his lap, his head back and his eyes closed.
Jeremy stood in front of him and spoke softly. “We’d better get out of here, Moe.”
The lunk opened his eyes. The anger was gone and he looked like the old Moe again. The big man nodded and clambered to his feet.
Jeremy went back to the bedroom, took one last look at Uriah, then grabbed a blanket from the bed and went back to Moe. “You carry this. I’ll take the bike.”
Moe took the blanket as Jeremy wheeled the bicycle out into the hallway and down the stairs. They went out the back door where Jeremy stopped and turned to his friend. “I’ll ride the bike. It won’t hold you. You’ll have to walk, ok?”
Moe nodded.
“I have to go to the street,” Jeremy said, pointing across the adjoining, fenced off parking lots. I won’t be able to get through there with the bike. Can I trust you to go straight back to our new home?”
Moe nodded again.
Jeremy watched him amble across the lot, climb over the fence, and continue on. He sighed, long and deep, before wheeling the bicycle toward the street.
Chapter 49
Friday, 10:36 AM
JAKE SAT ON the grassy slope beside the sidewalk and leaned back against a tree. Annie sat and faced him, her knees up, her arms wrapped around her legs.
“It’s impossible to say if they’re still in this area,” Jake said. “They’ve got a good head start out of here.”
“They could be anywhere by now, but I think they’ll soon run out of places to hide.”
Jake looked over as a bicycle rattled past, less than ten feet from where they sat. It came from the apartment building. The young man had his baseball cap pulled low, and as he glanced at Jake, the rider’s face took on a look of recognition, his eyes widening.
“It’s Spencer,” Jake said, as he sprang to his feet. He dove for the bike and missed, his hand brushing the back of the rider as the bicycle spun away and wheeled down the sidewalk.
Jeremy peddled furiously, taking a sharp turn into the street as Jake sprinted behind. The rider swerved into the path of an oncoming car, and then veered back at the last second as the driver leaned on the horn and touched the brakes. Jake felt a breeze from the vehicle as it zipped past. The driver shouted something through an open window, picked up speed, and shot away.
Jeremy was gaining ground, his short legs pumping like pistons as he leaned over the handlebars. Jake sprinted after the bike but the distance between him and his quarry was growing. He wasn’t going to make it.
A hundred feet away now, the bike tore through a stop sign and took a sharp left, down a residential street.
Jake stopped in the middle of the road, glanced back at Annie, and shook his head in disgust. She was on her feet, waving frantically and pointing. Jake caught her signal and he streaked across the street, over the sidewalk, and dashed up the side of a small clapboard house.
He vaulted over a low fence dividing the dwelling from the one behind it, and raced down the side of the second house, to the street beyond.
Annie’s suggestion was dead on. Jeremy had circled back and was coming around the block, heading directly toward him. Jake stepped into the middle of the street. Brakes squealed, tires hopped, and the bike spun halfway around, ten feet away. Jeremy lost control, hit the ground heavily, and the bicycle clattered to the pavement, its front tire still spinning freely. He rolled once, struggled to rise, and when he came to his knees, he had a pistol in his hand.
“Stop right there,” Jeremy said, through gritted teeth. “I’ll shoot you right where you stand. Yes, I surely will.”
Jake stopped. What were his odds of grabbing the revolver? Not so good. He held out a hand. “Give me the gun, Jeremy.”
“Not on your life.” Spencer stood, careful to keep the weapon pointed at his target. “Don’t come any closer, Jake. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if I have to. Yes, I surely will.”
Jake didn’t move. He’s been shot once before by the little creep, and he wasn’t too keen on a repeat performance.
Jeremy’s face cont
orted, his voice manic as he said, “I’m not going back to prison, and I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way.”
Jake crossed his arms. “You’re free to go.”
Jeremy looked at him sideways as if trying to decide whether or not Jake was serious. Finally, he crouched down and picked up the bicycle with one hand while holding the gun steady in the other.
Jake stood rooted to his spot and glared as the cold-blooded killer backed the bike up a few feet, keeping his eyes glued on Jake. Then with one motion, he twisted around, hopped on the bike, and leaned on the pedals.
Jake sprung forward. His hand brushed against the spinning rear wheel, leaving a black mark across his palm as the bike picked up speed. He followed, continually losing ground, until finally he stopped, stood still, and watched the bicycle disappear from sight.
He almost had the little creep. So close, but now he was as far away as ever.
~~*~~
ANNIE HAD WATCHED as her husband raced along the side of the house to the street beyond. She wasn’t so sure Jake would catch Jeremy, but it was worth a shot.
The obvious thing was, the bicycle Jeremy rode was the same one she’d seen in Uriah’s apartment. They must’ve missed him by a few minutes. She assumed Uriah mentioned their visit. It may be a long shot, but she had to have another conversation with Uriah Hubert.
Annie walked across the lawn toward the front door of the apartment building. The women were still there, still sipping on beer, and still prattling on endlessly. She forced a smile as one of them waved a hand.
She went cautiously toward the front door. There was a possibility Moses Thacker may be lurking nearby and she had no desire to run into him. He was more than a match for her, and even Jake would be hard pressed to deal with the huge ex-con.
The lobby was empty, so she stepped inside, went to the foot of the stairs, looked up, and frowned. Uriah’s door was open. She waited in case someone was leaving the apartment. She didn’t hear any voices, the door stayed ajar, and all was quiet except for a muffled hum coming from an air register over her head.
Justice Returns: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (A Jake & Annie Lincoln Thriller Book 6) Page 19
