Edge of the Heat 5

by Lisa Ladew

  The cab pulled up in front of the Thailana Luxury Apartments. She paid in cash and went inside, pulling her hair around her face. Until she had time for more concrete alterations, it was the best she could do for a disguise. At the front desk she handed over her new driver’s license and credit card in the name of Brook Barnes and tried to start thinking of herself as Brook.

  The slight woman behind the desk gave her a key and smiled stiffly, eyeballing her simple shirt, no makeup or jewelry, and stretch pants. Sara knew what she was thinking, and she was used to it. She took her keys and walked to the elevator. Her home for the next week, while she tried to figure out where she was going to go next, was a 4900 square foot luxury apartment that went for $5000 a night. She had picked this hotel specifically because the massive rooms had more than one exit. The cost was not important.

  Opening her door, she barely spared the huge rooms a glance. She didn’t care what the apartment looked like, as long as it was functional to her needs. She spilled the contents of her bag onto a small desk and went through them. Las Vegas driver’s license, passport, 2 credit cards and a bank card, a checkbook with a register reading $442,000, a Bachelor of Arts in Computer Science diploma and transcripts, medical records, shot records, social security card, family pictures, and even a library card, all in the name of Brook Barnes.

  She pulled her wallet out of her purse and pulled out everything that had the Sara Acosta name on it. She rummaged through drawers until she found scissors, and then cut it all into little pieces. Her hands only shook a little. She placed it all in a baggie from the kitchen and put the baggie in her purse. She would scatter the pieces in different garbage cans around the city. Her phone had been smashed and buried under a rock last night next to the dress. She wouldn’t use it even one more time after she decided to abandon the identity.

  She hadn’t fully decided to abandon the identity until she met Jerry’s friends, Hawk and Craig. When she’d first discovered they were FBI she’d had a bad moment when she’d been afraid she was made and it was already too late. But then logic reasserted itself. Who invented a wedding to spring a trap? But with the logic came the sure knowledge that she had been ignoring ‘the feeling’ for weeks already. Ignoring it because she liked Jerry and she liked her new life. She hadn’t wanted to abandon it. But abandoning was always better than ending up dead, so she made up her mind last night at the wedding. She asked herself if it was safe to go home to her car, her apartment, and the answer had come back: probably not. So she didn’t. And now here she was. Sara Acosta dead. Brook Barnes being born. And she was both the murderer and the identity-less midwife.

  With her new identity established in her wallet, she made her list. 1) phone 2) computer 3) clothes/luggage 4) food. She shoved the list in her bag and headed back out to the street, blinking as she stepped into the sunlight. The dry Vegas heat surrounded her at once, wilting her. She hailed a cab again and began her errands. Buying a new phone was fun. Getting the newest computer and 5 large monitors for it, plus all the hardware she needed was a blast. She spent 2 hours in Best Buy alone. Buying clothes was less fun, for her. She gathered large armloads of things in her size, sticking to blacks and blues because she liked them, and bought it all without trying anything on. And then food. The thought of food awakened her stomach, which rumbled menacingly. Lots of food, and quickly.

  She walked out of the clothes store and looked up and down both sides of the street for a restaurant that would meet her needs. Across the street she saw a small, hole-in-the wall diner. It would do for now. As she walked across she noticed a homeless woman sitting next to the diner in a small shadow, a cup and a sign in front of her. Something looked strange about the woman. Her chest was misshapen and lumpy. As she got closer, she realized the woman had a baby sleeping in a dirty sling across her chest. And the woman was really a girl, no older than 17, with dirty blond hair that hung in her face. Sara swallowed a lump in her throat and fixed her eyes on the baby’s small, pinched face. The baby looked malnourished, and so did the girl. She walked into the diner, her mind racing furiously. This was something she didn’t need right now. But she couldn’t walk on by and ignore it. She wouldn’t. No baby should ever sleep on the street while her mother begged for a nickel. No baby that small should ever suffer a moment of pain, unhappiness, or loss. Sara knew she was being irrational. She knew she was probably being stupid. But none of that mattered. She had already made up her mind.

  At the counter, she ordered 2 burgers, fries, macaroni salad, and sodas to go. She took them out to the street and sat down next to the girl. She looked at the girl and held out the to-go plate.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  The girl looked at her, eyes wide and frightened, then looked down at the food. Her tongue snaked out between her teeth and wet her lips. Sara could almost hear the girl’s saliva glands squirting into her mouth.

  “Are you a cop?” the girl asked, a slight tremor in her voice.

  “No cop,” Sara said, putting the plate down next to the girl. She pushed the drink over too and then took the sheet of aluminum foil off of her own plate and ate half the burger in 2 large bites. From the corner of her eye she saw the girl pick up the soda and drink all of it without stopping for air. Her heart fell a little bit. It was at least one hundred degrees out here in the Vegas sun. And this girl wasn’t getting enough to drink? Sara wondered if she was nursing that baby, and if so, was the baby was getting any milk at all?

  “What’s your baby’s name?” Sara asked the girl.

  “Zoey.”

  Sara smiled. “That’s pretty.”

  The girl smiled back. “Thanks.” The never-ending crowds of people walked back and forth in front of them, completely ignoring them.

  Sara switched her burger from her right hand to her left and put out her hand. “I’m Sa-Brook. My name is Brook, nice to meet you.”

  The girl shook her hand. “I’m Jessica,” she said quietly, and dropped her eyes.

  Jessica picked up her burger and started eating it, slowly at first, and then with speed and relish, sometimes taking a bite and stuffing a handful of French fries in immediately after it. Her eyes never left the people on the sidewalk.

  Sara smiled, glad to see her eating so happily, but a little concerned at the sweeping glances Jessica kept giving the crowd. She knew what it probably meant.

  As Jessica shoved another handful of fries in her mouth, a fry fell and hit baby Zoey on the forehead. Zoey woke up and started crying. “Damn!” Jessica swore. She swiped the French fry off Zoey and tried to rock her back to sleep, but the baby kept crying. Jessica looked on the verge of tears herself.

  “Can you feed her?” Sara asked.

  “No, she won’t nurse when it’s this hot out. And I don’t have anything else to give her.” Sara could hear the desperate tears in Jessica’s voice.

  “How old is she?”

  “She’s only 4 months.”

  Sara looked at all the businesses and casinos on the street. “How about some sugar water? I know they give it to the babies in the hospital.”

  “I don’t have any sugar water. I don’t even have a bottle.”

  Sara jumped to her feet. I’ll get you some. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for an answer she sprinted 100 yards down to the closest casino, dodging people with cat-like reflexes, and walked in, looking for the restaurant. When she found it, getting a glass of water, some packets of sugar and a straw was simple. She ran back out quickly.

  As she got closer to the diner, she saw Sara’s little shady spot was empty. Her heart dropped all the way to her feet. She didn’t wait. But then she saw him, or rather the back of him. A tall man dressed in a dark t-shirt and black jeans, his arm propped against the diner, leaning aggressively over someone a few feet to the left of Jessica’s spot. His head bobbed forward like a rooster. Sara could see that someone rocking and swaying behind him. It was Jessica. She was trying to rock the baby back to sleep still, while her pimp (or
boyfriend) spit venomous words into her face.

  Sara stopped walking. As long as the man didn’t hit Jessica, she would leave him alone - wait for him to leave, for now. She pressed her lips together and tried to get her thoughts in order. She didn’t want to kill anyone this soon after assuming a new identity. It could ruin all of her work so far. But she would if she had to.

  She’d learned the hard way that there were certain kinds of men who didn’t listen to anything but a bullet in the brains. This hard case looked like one of those men. She sighed. Why were things never easy?

  Chapter 6

  Jerry sat on the hard cot in the cell block, eying the other prisoners. All too well, he remembered what had happened to Emma when Norman Foster had her arrested and thrown in here. She’d been sliced on the arm by another prisoner pretty badly. His eyes felt heavy and his head kept dropping to his chin, but he was determined to stay awake. Who knew what would happen to him if he fell asleep?

  The cell, or holding tank, was large. Bars surrounded it on all sides. Hard metal cots ran along three sides. There were at least 20 men in this cell, and only about 10 of them fit on the cots. The rest sat or laid on the floor in the middle of the area. Three men appeared to be asleep and they hadn’t been bothered, but Jerry knew he didn’t fit in here. His clothes were clean, for one thing. He didn’t smell, for another, and he was clean-shaven. Almost everyone in the cell had been giving him the evil eye, like they thought he was an undercover cop or something.

  A door swung open and a uniformed officer walked up to the cell. “Mansko!” he called out.

  Jerry jumped to his feet immediately, tiredness fallen away for a few seconds. They were going to let him make a phone call finally.

  The officer opened the door and Jerry wasted no time in slipping out it. “You’ve made bail.”

  Jerry’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. Someone bailed him out? Who?

  He followed the officer out of the room with the cell and around a corner into a small room. “Sign the form on the clipboard and take your things.”

  Jerry did so, still trying to puzzle who had bailed him out. He had been planning on calling Beth. He would have called Emma, but of course she was in Hawaii by now.

  “You are free to go. Your party is waiting for you by the Desk Sergeant window.”

  Jerry walked out of the room and down the hall, the officer shadowing him. When he reached the exit door and pushed it open, the evening sunset blinded him for a second. He blinked his eyes and looked around, seeing two blurry people walking towards him. His eyes cleared and Emma and Craig smiled at him.

  “How did you guys even know I was here?” he managed.

  Craig started to answer but Jerry interrupted, “And aren’t you supposed to be in Hawaii right now?”

  “We pushed our flight back a day,” Emma said.

  “But why?”

  “We were on our way to the airport and Craig was listening to the scanner. He stayed up most of the night trying to write out a list of how he would investigate Sara’s disappearance if it were him. He thought you’d want it. He also called Lionel first thing this morning and gave him the details that you told us last night and told him to run it through his programs, see if any similar crimes come up on the national wire. So he was listening to the scanner and when he heard someone say they were headed back from the Mariana Day apartments with a prisoner he thought maybe they’d arrested a suspect. He called one of his friends at the police department trying to get the name and circumstances. That guy called him back while we were at the airport and said it was you that was arrested. So we postponed our flights for a day and drove here. They wouldn’t let us post your bail until just now though. Sorry.”

  Jerry almost broke down. “Sorry? Why are you sorry? You guys are the best friends in the world, but you shouldn’t have postponed your honeymoon.”

  “Don’t be silly Jerry,” Craig said. “Of course we should have. You’re our friend. You would have done the same for us. In fact, you’ve done more for us.”

  Emma nodded vehemently. Jerry tried to smile. Craig was a good guy. Jerry looked around at the parking lot. “What now?”

  “Now we take you home. We can talk about what your next move is, and then you probably need some sleep. How much sleep did you get last night? 3 hours?” Craig said.

  “Yeah about that.” Jerry didn’t want to go home. But he knew it was the only smart move right now. Where else would he go? He didn’t have the first clue where to start looking for Sara. And he wasn’t going to badger Detective Gagne again, that was for sure. He’d learned that lesson.

  “Craig, Gagne arrested me for harassing a police officer. Can he do that?”

  “Yep. Do you have a court date?”

  “A court date? I don’t think so.”

  “Let me see your ROR slip. That paper you signed when they let you go.”

  Jerry pulled it out of his back pocket and handed it to Craig.

  “Yep, you’ve got to go to court next month.”

  “You’re kidding me! For what?”

  “For sentencing.”

  Jerry’s jaw dropped. A little blue ball of hate for Detective Gagne started to grow in his belly. “What kind of sentencing could I get?” he asked, scared to hear the answer.

  “Probably nothing major. A fine. Community service. Maybe a day in jail. It depends on your judge, and what exactly you did.”

  “I didn’t think I did anything. I just asked him what he was going to do about finding Sara.”

  “Did you touch him?”

  “Yeah, but I just put my hand on his arm.”

  Craig nodded. “Did he tell you to stop it?”

  “Yeah, a few times.”

  “Did you swear at him or threaten him?”

  “No! Never.”

  Craig pointed his face at the shrinking sun. “It doesn’t sound like it was much at all. If you get a lenient judge he might even throw it out, you being an upstanding citizen and all.”

  Color flooded Jerry’s face. All he could think of was the last time he went before a judge. And his father’s pleading eyes.

  “Yeah well, I’ve been arrested before,” Jerry said, eyes on the ground.

  “Really?” Emma said. Her face said she couldn’t believe she’d never heard this before.

  “Yeah.” Jerry fell silent.

  Craig jangled his keys. “Let’s get out of here. We can talk about this at your place. Where’s your car?”

  Jerry watched the sky from the back seat of Emma’s car and hoped that Sara was OK. He didn’t want to think about what was going to happen when he told Craig and Emma about his past, so instead he thought about Sara. I sure wish I knew what happened to you, he thought. I wish I at least knew if you were alive or dead. His heart skipped a beat at the word dead. Could it really be possible that Sara might be dead? It seemed unlikely, but of course it was possible. If only she would have stayed at the party. Jerry remembered dancing with her, enjoying her soft vanilla scent, looking into her endless gaze, her hair brushing against his arm. She had been tense, but not unreceptive to him. He had wanted to kiss her, and he thought she had wanted him to kiss her. But he didn’t, because she had been so tense. His plan had been to take her outside for a walk, maybe rub her shoulders, see if she would relax at all, and then maybe pull her close, and touch his lips gently to hers. Sample their sweetness and softness.

  That was the thing about Sara. She always gave him two clear signals. One signal said stay away from me, I will never warm up to you. And the other signal said I want you as much as you want me, please come closer. The longer he knew her, the stronger the second signal had become. In fact, the only reason he had ever had the nerve to ask her out was because the second signal had gotten so strong. The tense, stay-away signal was still there, but it was muted somehow, turned down.

  Jerry had started to believe that she liked him. That she had some issues (who doesn’t?) and they were telling her to keep her distance, but that she
was starting to like him enough that the please come closer signal would be the ultimate winner.

  At least that was what he thought until she took off on him.

  Jerry watched the last of the orange blaze slip into purple in the sky, and finally turned his mind to the story he was going to have to share for the first time in 18 years.

  Chapter 7

  Sara watched the man yelling at Jessica closely, looking for his hand to curl into a fist or either arm to pull back like he was going to strike. Instead, he yelled a few more things in Jessica’s face and stepped in close, to her, whispering in her ear. Sara moved so she could see the hand between their bodies. It was on her upper arm, twisting the skin mercilessly.

  Sara stepped forward, intending to take him down right there on the sidewalk, but he let go and walked off without a backwards glance. Bastard.

  Jessica stood, cradling Zoey and burying her face into the baby’s little body. Zoey was still crying, but her cries were weak and thin. Sara could see a bruise already forming where the asshole had twisted Jessica’s skin.

  Sara touched Jessica softly on the arm. “Sit down sweetie, I have the sugar water.”

  Jessica looked up, her eyes red and hopeless, then nodded. They sat in their former spots. Sara handed over the sugar water. “I don’t have a syringe, but maybe a bit in the straw would work.”

  Jessica nodded and went to work. The first time the water touched the baby’s tiny, red lips she stopped crying and drank it greedily. When it was gone she rooted around for more and started crying again.

  “Oh, she likes it,” Jessica whispered. She filled the straw with a little more this time and slowly let it trickle into Zoe’s mouth.

  “Jessica, who was that man?”

  Jessica looked at her, fear in her eyes. “Oh that’s just Manny.”