by ML Gardner
“Then she’ll start doing stuff to be found.”
“What do you mean?”
Maggie interrupted us, bringing me my pills. I took them with a smile. She patted my hand, gave a cordial hello to Fred and left us with our coffee. I turned back to Fred as soon as she was gone.
“When someone wants to be found, kid, they have a way of leaving a trail. Maybe she’ll let herself be seen more or drop her real name here and there. Hell, she might even try to contact her parents.”
“Nah. I checked. No word.”
“Trust me. Anyone that wants to be found bad enough will find a way.”
“I don’t know what to do now,” Fred said, looking down. “Don’t look down on me but I came here for advice. I’ve been working every angle you gave me. Now what?”
“Now you wait. You know what you know and you know what you need to find out. Take what you know and wait for signs…signals…cues.”
“You mean clues?”
“No. Those pills don’t work that fast. I mean cues. Cues guiding you to do something. Go somewhere. Talk to someone. Cues that lead to clues. You’ll be prompted to take action and you might not even realize it. It might not make sense, but you’ll do it anyway.”
He nodded but I could tell he didn’t fully understand. If he wanted to be my protégé, he’d better figure it out quick.
“I got into this game because I liked puzzles. I like to make things fit together. And, there were no openings in homicide. Had there been, I’d probably be your boss. But there weren’t. I started out doing everything by the book. Consulting those with seniority that had been around the block. Took guidance and direction. And some of it was good. But it was only when I realized that there are things we can’t explain going on all around us…things that can lead us to the answers to our questions.
“Most people walk around pretending it isn’t there. But if you stop, look and listen, you’ll be shown what to do. Find the pieces that don’t fit and you’ll better see the puzzle. And maybe it’ll only be a twinge in your stomach…a gut feeling, but always do what your gut tells you to do, kid.”
“Um, your gut exploded, Sloan. Are you sure that’s such good advice?”
I laughed and though it hurt like hell, I couldn’t help it. The pills were kicking in and I found it hilarious.
“Thing is, kid, if you’re cut out for this, you’ll see what I’m talking about, eventually. You’ll see the signs and hear the whispers and know that they mean something. It’s only if you’re lucky that you’ll figure out what.”
He smiled at me in a way that told me I wasn’t entirely making sense and perhaps it was time for a nap. With a hand on my shoulder, he turned to leave.
“There is one thing you can bring me, Fred.”
“What’s that, Sloan?”
“A copy of that list.” His sobering stare told me he knew exactly what I was talking about now.
“I got a theory. I’d like to see the list.”
“That list is under lock and key, Sloan, you know that.”
“Yes,” I said, nodding and feeling a bit woozy. “But I know you can get a copy for me.”
“How? They won’t let anyone in.”
“Does that cute little gal still work the desk to the evidence room, Fred?”
“Well, yeah.”
I smiled and I was pretty sure I looked drunk. “Use your imagination, kid.”
***
Fred got me a copy of that list. By then I was absorbed in a life of leisure. While it’s hard to break old habits, a man can form new ones quickly. My cases were still a part of me, whispering on the wind, coming to me in dreams, I didn’t obsess about them. Distancing myself became routine.
A head shrink would say I needed the break. I’d worked myself to the point of, well, exploding and needed a physical and mental reprieve. This is one time I’d agree with the quacks and I had to admit, I half enjoyed it.
I half enjoyed it until one morning when I sat with my black coffee and toast and opened the paper. There he was. Number six.
My God, was it October already? Damn near, I realized as I glanced at the calendar. One day had bled into the next with only radio episodes to mark the days. How quickly September flew by!
Our cop killer was early by a few days. Dark reality replaced blissful ignorance.
I walked to my desk—finally being able to walk fully upright again—and flipped open Daniel Bellamy’s file. I scanned the names of cops that had busted him. I scanned again.
Frank Gaboli, another beat cop, had never busted him according to this record. Either I was wrong, or he wasn’t following routine. Serials could change it up, technically. Though it was rare. Maybe he formed a new list that we didn’t know about.
But then again, recalling what I told Fred just weeks earlier, someone who wants to be found will find a way. They’ll help you. And I’d never met a criminal that didn’t want to get found, eventually. He was changing it up, getting sloppy, not following his own set of sick rules. He wanted to be found. Another guy would throw this theory out the window and start over. I had never been so sure of anything in my life.
While it was still five days until I could go back to work, I sat down anyway and looked at my list of what I needed to know. The first thing I needed to do was get to New York and find Daniel’s sister.
She was the closest link and the best source of information regarding Daniel. She could tell me his likes, dislikes, habits, maybe give me a picture…hell, she probably even knew his shoe size.
One trip and I’d have more information than all the not-so-special team combined. And they must be taking a hell of a beating from Captain after this last one. Two more murders, right under their noses.
I laughed, even though it wasn’t funny. I felt guilty for not sharing my theory, but brushed it off with a selfish need to do something amazing. To be remembered for something real special. I just couldn’t leave with a card and a plant and a have a nice life. I just couldn’t.
“So, this must have been before you were suspected of being a murderer and you had to pretend to have a mistress. Sounds like your wife was being awful nice to you.”
“It was. That’s where I was headed when it ruptured. When I was talking to Fred in the park, getting him to cover for me, that’s when I planned on that little New York trip. It was an unwelcome delay.”
“But it wasn’t all bad. Sounds like you reconnected with your wife while you were recuperating.”
Sloan looked down and smiled. “Yeah, there’s that.”
“I wonder if that’s all it will take with Claire. Just…lots of time and radio shows.”
“I hope so, Aryl. How much time before dawn?”
He narrowed his eyes against the horizon, just beginning to separate itself from the ocean. “Enough time for me to tell you where Gina took me after she tried to crush my groin.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Getting To Know You
She sat across from me at a small table in a dingy restaurant. She spent a good amount of time just looking at me. Her pert little smile bothered me; I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. My head ached and though my body was starving, my stomach no longer rumbled, more concerned with feeding other cravings.
“You’re sweating.”
“I’m hurting.”
“You need it?”
The waitress placed two cups of coffee on the table and waited for us to order. Gina waved her away, whispering, “Later.” All the while keeping her eyes on me.
After the waitress moved away, Gina tossed a single pill on the table. “It’s all I got on me. All I’d give you anyway. I need you alert when you talk to Mickey. He don’t like his men on dope.”
“I’m not on dope,” I said impatiently. “I’m in pain.”
“I can see that. I heard you wheezing on the walk here. If I thought you were just strung out, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
“Why are you sitting here?”
“Y
ou look like you could use some coffee and a meal.” Her eyes dropped to the pill I still hadn’t touched. “And relief.”
“I need to figure out who I am.” I swiped the pill off the table and swallowed it without water.
It took longer than the liquid to ease the aches and I tuned out most of what she said, spending the time rubbing my temples, trying to force my mind to remember something. Anything. And trying to distract myself from the pain.
“How often do you take the medicine?”
My head snapped up and I rubbed the back of my neck. “Every time I wake up.”
“You’re hooked.”
I glared at her.
“I’m not judging. I was hooked, too, you know. For a little bit. Mickey helped me get off the stuff.”
“Hmph.” I honestly didn’t care.
“What are you in the mood for?” She shoved the menu across the table.
“Breakfast,” I said, pushing it back. She ordered a basic breakfast platter for both of us without looking at the waitress.
I shifted, feeling the need to make conversation. I wanted to know why she was doing this, talking to me, feeding me, taking me to Mickey—whoever the hell that was—but I decided it would be better to eat first. Maybe get another bottle of medicine. I highly doubted that pill was all she had.
Then, I thought as I looked out the window, I’d say thanks but no thanks and head to the police. Now that I had enough coherent thought to seek help. The pill started taking effect and the second priority, my stomach, began to stir and growl.
I smelled the food before it reached the table; it made my mouth water and I started eating before the waitress had finished setting down the plate.
I saw that she watched me with what might have been pity, when I took the time to look up.
When the plate was cleaned I sat back, a little nauseous.
“How long’s it been?”
“Since what?”
“Since you ate.”
The food sat like a rock in my stomach. I closed my eyes, trying to bring up the images. “I remember a ship and Chinese sailors. One of them cleaned me up and they gave me this awful tasting tea over and over and I slept a lot. I woke up under the bridge.” He brought his shoulders up. “I have no idea when I ate last.”
“You might lose it, then.”
“What do you mean?”
“The food. If it’s been ‘at long since you ate, you might get sick.”
My stomach heard her and agreed, beginning to grumble in a different, uncomfortable way.
“Let’s get going, why don’t we. So you don’t lose it here.” She stood up and bent over to grab her purse, nearly falling out of her top. I noticed and it momentarily took my mind off my stomach and my plan to walk away.
***
Two blocks down the street I remembered it again, my stomach anyway, as I heaved in the corner of an alley. She stood by and waited patiently, handing me a handkerchief from her purse when I finished.
“You alright to keep walking?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No, I can’t carry you,” she said and laughed.
“I really need to lie down.”
“Let’s get you back to the warehouse and cleaned up,” she said, taking my arm again. “We’ll get you set right again.”
Sloan stood up and stretched with a yawn. “And after that you went to the warehouse and took a bath?”
“Right.”
“And she just took you in? Did you ever think to leave?”
“Plenty. But I was still healing, getting my strength back and needed the medicine for pain relief. Soon I just plain needed it. She kept me on a short leash with that and by the time I could control it and had the ability to run, I had no idea where to run to.”
“How long did it take to earn Mickey’s trust?”
Aryl shrugged. “After he realized I wasn’t a rat and I didn’t come after him for cutting my back open, he kept me close to run errands. It progressed from there. The sun’s coming up.”
He nodded and Sloan followed with his eyes. Just over the edge of the endless ocean it was growing light. They both sat and watched in silent awe as the sun seemed to boil up out of the ocean and warm the golden wood of the deck.
“I still don’t understand how you connected Daniel Bellamy to Arianna. I mean, I know he’s her brother, but how did you find that out?”
“Ah, that. I found that out through his girlfriend, Arlene.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Next of Kin
The office was eerily quiet the next morning. There was an unspoken hostility between us and them. It didn’t help matters or morale. The special unit was still crawling all over my office, picking through my files, trying to draw lines between the missings and the cop killings. I was sure that taking Daniel’s file was some sort of crime, but I wasn’t concerned with what that crime might be named. And when I found the cop killer, no one else would care, either.
Felix, damn kiss ass, was sitting by my door like he was guarding it. Or waiting for me.
“Thought you were going on vacation?” he asked with that irritating smirk of his.
“Why would you say that, Felix?”
“Oh, nothing,” he said, slowly averting his eyes and leaning his chair on its back legs. I had the urge to put my toe out and push. “I just overheard Cap diverting some cases.” He raised a file. “Even gave one to me.”
“Diverting cases?”
“From your office to…everyone else. You know, it’s what he does when someone goes on vacation. Splits up the workload. Only a couple guys aren’t real happy about it.”
I turned on my heel, promising myself I’d find a reason to punch Felix, and soon. I threw open Cap’s door.
“What the hell is going on?”
He looked up, surprised to see me.
“You know why I’m here. You’re handing out my cases like balloons at the circus.”
He sighed and ran his hand over what little hair he had left. “Sit down, Sloan.”
I did, angrily.
“Look, Sloan, don’t take this personally.”
“You gave one of my cases to Felix to work. To Felix of all people!”
“I get the feeling you don’t like him, Sloan.”
“I don’t and it’s no secret. He’s had his eye on my office for some time now and he’ll do anything to take it. I’ve heard people talk. Don’t think I haven’t heard ‘em.”
“No ones talking about you, Sloan. This is exactly why I’m dividing up your cases. I think you need to lighten your work load. If you have less cases to work, maybe you’ll be able to pay attention enough to find some promising leads.”
“Pay attention?”
The dreams, the gut feelings, the whispers on the wind, he had no idea how much I paid attention to.
“While the guys were busy trying to work up a theory, they noticed that all of your cases seem half worked. Some of them haven’t been updated in months.”
“That’s the nature of the game, you know that, Captain.”
“Yes, I do. And I know that you are one hell of a detective, Sloan. Which is why I’m trying to help you. Why don’t you take some time off? Take Maggie on a vacation.”
“No. I’m onto something with Kimberly Weiss,” I lied.
“Really?”
“Yes, so if you gave her file to someone else, I’d really appreciate it if you’d give it back.”
“I gave it to Fred, actually. He’s the only one that was happy to take on the extra work.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
“If you’re really onto something then go ask for it back.”
“Any idea how long it’ll be before I have my office?”
“Tomorrow. Sorry for the inconvenience, Sloan.”
“Do they really think they’re going to find something in a file cabinet full of missings?”
He shrugged.
“Say, how about you let me have a look at that list, C
aptain?” It was a shot in the dark, but like Fred said, couldn’t hurt to ask.
“No way, Sloan. Sorry.”
I stood, eyeing the empty glass on his desk. A faint amber ring in the bottom told me he had gotten started early and was worried about a lot more than the fact that all my cases were half finished files. I took note of the calendar before I turned. We only had a few more days. The next guy on the list must be scared as hell.
I met Fred in the hall. He looked afraid of me.
“I’m not angry, Fred. But Captain said to give me back the Weiss file.”
He looked over at Captain’s office door with scrutiny.
“Go ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.”
“No, I believe you, Sloan. I was just really hoping to try my hand at this.”
I paused, thinking. He looked like a sad puppy. Maybe Fred’s proposal to be my sidekick wasn’t such a bad idea. I could have him out chasing leads on Kimberly while I tracked down Daniel Bellamy. Conscience cleared and work accomplished. Everyone was doing everyone else’s job, but as long as all the jobs got done, what the hell.
“Let’s go talk over a cup of coffee,” I said, making a motion to the door. “We’ll work it together.”
“Really?” he asked, perking up.
“Yeah, unless you have something else to do.”
“No, no, it can wait. Let’s go,” he said with a big smile as he passed me, leading the way.
***
It took nearly a week to get a chance to talk to Arlene. With Fred walking around in the early August heat keeping hope alive for Kimberly, I camped out on Arlene’s stoop for four days straight. When I did finally catch her coming home, she said she didn’t have time to talk. If I came back the fifth day she’d see me, she promised. She didn’t look too overly concerned when I told her I came to talk to her about Daniel, at least not in front of the guy she was dragging along behind her.
I was back the next day as promised and wouldn’t take no for an answer. She let me in. I looked around for anyone else and she assured me that she was alone. She offered me coffee and I refused. It looked like she had tried to clean up the place, but had a long way to go.
