Return to Fender

by Virginia Brown

  “Stop it!” she yelped when another bullet zipped past her. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  Harley didn’t wait for a response. She aimed her body toward the grass, dirt, and comparative safety behind the Toyota. Landing was not fun. She skidded over a concrete curb and damp earth, picking up a few scrapes along the way. Panting, she rolled to a stop on the side of her car away from the Mercedes. Another bullet spat from the Mercedes window and hit the Toyota’s rear bumper.

  “Dammit!” she said. “Who the hell are these guys?”

  Whoever they were, they were obviously willing to shoot her, and she snuggled up against the metal body of the Toyota, panting like a dog and wondering if her luck had just run out.

  Chapter 6

  HARLEY LAY THERE for what seemed like ten minutes but was probably only sixty seconds or so, too scared to move. When no other bullets came her way she crept along the side of her car. “Cami, are you okay?” she asked from the ground by the passenger door. No response. She curled fingers around the door handle and slowly lifted to peer inside. Her heart sank. Cami lay almost all the way in the floorboards. “Cami!” she called louder as a lump formed in her throat. “Are you okay?”

  A muffled squeak of “Yes” seeped through the half-open window. Harley’s heart started to beat again. Satisfied her best friend was okay, just terrified, she duck-walked to the front of the Toyota to peek around the bumper at the Mercedes. Who would be shooting at her? And why? This wasn’t exactly a bad part of town. High-end homes lined Mendenhall only a few blocks away, and the shopping area was usually safe. So what—?

  Then the obvious hit her: Jordan. Of course. This was someone after him. If he was hiding in the fountain or a concrete drain she spotted several yards away, then it was entirely possible. Maybe they had chased him this far and didn’t know where he’d gone.

  Her heart hammered against her chest as she crouched beside her car and thought about her options. Unfortunately, she’d left her cell phone in the car. It was probably on the floor mats where she’d dropped it when she got out to yell at the Mercedes for hitting her car.

  “Cami,” she whispered loudly. “Cami, can you still hear me?”

  “What?” came the whisper back. “Are we about to be killed?”

  “Dial nine-one-one, and we have a chance of surviving,” Harley replied. “But hurry!”

  “I’m way ahead of you. I did that as soon as they started shooting.”

  Smart girl. Harley craned her neck to peer around the front end of her car. The big black Mercedes lunged forward, then executed a ninety degree turn and sped off. Loose gravel spit from under the wheels and sprayed the side of her car. They were leaving.

  As she cautiously stood up, she heard the sirens and saw the flashing blue lights. Wow, they were quick, but not quick enough to catch whoever had been in the Mercedes. What about Jordan? Had he been shot? Harley went toward the huge fountain at the end of the street. A street drain was cut into a concrete curb. It looked too small for any human being, but desperation could manage miracles. She called for him. “Hey, Jordan! Are you in there? It’s okay to come out . . . they’re gone. Jordan?”

  When she got close she saw what looked like footprints in the grass next to the drain. She crouched down and peered inside. It was dark. There was no way Jordan could be in there. She checked the fountain. No sign of him in the water, at the back or even at the bottom. Well, damn. She almost got shot coming to his rescue, and he didn’t even hang around? Or call back to warn her they were shooting at him?

  “Thanks for nothing, jerk,” she muttered and turned to go back to her car. It was surrounded by police cars, and one of the officers headed toward her. This wasn’t going to be very pleasant, she knew from experience. Police never particularly liked arriving late to the scene of a crime.

  “Hello, officer,” she said in her most agreeable tone, “thank you for getting here so quickly.”

  The officer put out a hand to stop her. “Get down on the ground!”

  “But I’m—”

  “Down on the ground!” he shouted, “Now!”

  Harley complied, loudly complaining, “But I’m the victim.”

  “Right. Put your hands out to the side above your head and be still.”

  “Fine.” Harley lay on the concrete and made her body into a giant X.

  The officer patted her pockets with one hand, then stepped back. “Get up. Slowly. Hands above your head. Where’s your ID?”

  “It’s in my car.”

  “Stand right there and don’t move,” he said, and Harley looked past him to see Cami standing outside the Toyota while another officer went through her purse.

  “Ask my friend to get it from my backpack,” said Harley. “It’s probably on the back seat.”

  “Don’t move,” the officer repeated. He spoke into a radio clipped to his shoulder, and in a moment, one of the other half-dozen or so uniformed police brought Harley’s backpack. “Any weapons in here?” the first officer asked. “Needles or something sharp? Drugs or paraphernalia?”

  She shook her head. “No. We were shot at, not the shooters.”

  “Do I have your permission to look in your bag?”

  “My ID’s in the front zipper. I can get it—”

  “Don’t move!” he said sharply when she took a step forward. She stopped cold, and he unzipped the front compartment of her backpack and pulled out her ID. He studied it a moment, glanced up at her, then took a step back and spoke into his radio again.

  Harley wasn’t that surprised when he turned back to her and said, “Do you object to a search of your car? I can get a warrant out here, but it’ll be a lot quicker if you give permission.”

  “By all means. Search away. Uh, I don’t suppose you know Mike Morgan? He’s undercover, usually from Two-o-one Poplar.”

  The officer stopped going through her bag and looked at her. “As a matter of fact, I do know him. Why?”

  “Well, he’s my friend.” She was reluctant to say boyfriend, but in order to get her point across added, “My good friend.”

  “Is that so? Want me to call him out here?”

  Apparently he thought he’d called her bluff, but Harley nodded. “If you feel you must, go ahead.”

  “Yeah. Stand over here by your car, please. And put your hands behind your back for me.”

  “You’re going to handcuff me?”

  “Just until we get things sorted out.”

  Handcuffed, Harley was walked to stand beside Cami and next to one of the police cars while the officers searched the car and her bag. Cami was handcuffed, too.

  “Hey,” she said, and Cami shook her head.

  “If my parents see this on TV, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “Relax. I don’t see any reporters or TV journalists.”

  “We never do until it’s too late.”

  Harley had to concede her point and lapsed into silence. The day had gotten cool, and she wore only a tee shirt and jeans. She shivered. Police milled about gathering some evidence, she supposed. One of them picked up a shell casing with gloved fingers and put it into a plastic bag, and another cop explored the ground looking for more.

  “We were shot at,” offered Harley. “I think there’s a bullet hole in my car’s rear bumper.”

  None of the officers paid her any attention. She leaned against the police car. It occurred to her that if Jordan’s ex-wife was behind these attempts on his life, she wasn’t doing it herself. She’d obviously contracted out the job, which would explain why Bobby and Mike were dead-set against her getting involved. Maybe she needed to have a little talk with Jordan once she was able to leave the scene. If she was able to leave the scene, she amended when she recognized a car that had just arrived.

  Morgan got out of the pimp-mobile and paused to talk to a couple of uniformed officers, and after a few minutes he headed toward the cruiser where she and Cami leaned against the side.

  “Cami,” he said, “you’re keeping da
ngerous company again.”

  “That’s what I hear. We were just going for cappuccino. That’s all. Coffee. Now here we are. I’ve been shot at, and now I’m being arrested.”

  “No, you’re not being arrested. You’re an innocent bystander.”

  “That’s what I told her,” said Harley. “We were innocently going along and—”

  “Cami may be innocent,” Mike broke in to say. “You, not so much.”

  Harley was aghast. “How can you say that?”

  “Very easy. You’ve been warned to stay out of trouble and not go poking your nose where you shouldn’t. Cami is just an unwilling accomplice.”

  Annoyed, Harley rolled her eyes. “Well, if you’re going to look at it that way, I guess you have a point.”

  “It’s not just how I look at it,” said Mike, “it’s how the investigating officers look at it.”

  “I’m being treated like a criminal when I’m the victim,” Harley pointed out. “How is that fair?”

  “Who told you life is fair? It’s not. Just suck it up, baby. You’re lucky I showed up here instead of Bobby. He would probably arrest you.”

  “Well, yes, there is that to be thankful for, I suppose. So are they ever going to let me out of these cuffs?”

  “I kinda like you cuffed. It presents some interesting possibilities.”

  Harley narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t even go there.”

  “So what are you doing here, and who was shooting at you?”

  Harley paused. Then she said, “I don’t know who was shooting at us. They just drove up and started shooting. Crazy. Could have been a drive-by, I guess.”

  “Uh hunh. Well, Cami told Officer Cox that you were trying to find someone who was being chased. I assume that’s Tootsie’s friend Jordan.”

  “Well, that would make sense, I suppose.”

  “Yes, Harley, it would. So did you find him?”

  “Jordan? No. I haven’t seen him. I guess he’s okay.”

  “Any idea where he might be now?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t have his schedule,” she replied a bit testily.

  “Excuse me?” Cami said. “I think that officer over there wants to talk to you, Mike. He keeps looking this way.”

  He turned to look, then leaned toward Harley and said, “Don’t go anywhere until I get back.”

  As Morgan walked over to the other officers Harley said, “This isn’t going at all well.”

  “No,” agreed Cami. “It doesn’t seem to be.”

  “I’m trying to figure out just who could be shooting at us. I mean, if Jordan is right, and his ex—or soon to be ex-wife—is trying to kill him, she has help.”

  “Then it’s a bigger deal than you thought it’d be, and you’re risking your life. I don’t suppose you’d take some advice?”

  Harley sighed. “Yes, but I already know what you’re going to say. Maybe you’re right. I need to talk to Jordan. And he better have some damn good answers.”

  “That wasn’t what I was going to say, but I have a feeling you’re going to need some good answers yourself. Morgan looks a little ticked off.”

  Cami wasn’t exaggerating. Mike stalked toward them with a look on his face that Harley recognized. It was far too close to the looks she got from Bobby whenever she was too close to a corpse. Uh oh.

  Since the best defense was often a good offense, she leaned back against the car again in a casual manner. No point in looking guilty. A glance at his face was enough to tell her she should tread rather cautiously. When Morgan was in cop mode, he wasn’t that easy to stall. Silence may be her best option.

  This time there wasn’t any of the half-exasperated, half-teasing of earlier. He was all business. “So tell me exactly what you’re doing here.”

  There went the silence option. On to the offense part of her defense.

  “Waiting on you to unlock these cuffs,” she said. “We’re the victims, not the perps, and I’d appreciate everyone remembering that.”

  “Talking like you’re on Law and Order isn’t going to help you. I want to know why you’re here at this particular spot and why you were being used for target practice.”

  “I’d like to know the last myself. I have no clue.”

  “Stop stalling, Harley. Whoever was shooting at you may not have hit you, but I have a feeling they’ll try again if you don’t take their warning.”

  “Warning? Is that what this was? I wondered. I mean, I’m grateful not to have been shot, but they were too close to miss on purpose now that I think about it. So take these cuffs off me, please. They’re beginning to pinch.”

  “I’ll take the cuffs off, but I want some answers first. No answers, no deal.”

  She straightened. “Well, really. You keep acting like I’m to blame. I certainly didn’t ask those idiots to come shooting at us.”

  “Harley. Why did you come here? Were you supposed to meet Jordan here, but the shooters showed up instead? Is that what this was about?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Elaborate, please.”

  She could tell his temper was beginning to fray. Maybe it was in her best interests to cooperate a bit more.

  “Okay. Yes, Jordan called and said he was in trouble and to come help him, that he was being chased.”

  “By his ex-wife? Look, I’m trying to make you understand here. You said he claims it’s his ex who’s doing all this. Do you really think she was the shooter? Or behind the wheel? It is a lot more likely he’s involved in something else. If it’s his ex, none of this makes a lot of sense.”

  “Hm. You make a good point. Unless she has one heck of a life insurance policy on him, it would be to her benefit to keep him alive since she’s asking for alimony.”

  “Ah. The light comes on at last. You’re getting deep into something that’s nothing like what you’ve been told. Back off, Harley.”

  Now she was mad. Not at Morgan, not even so much at Jordan. She was mad that she’d let herself be talked into taking risks when she didn’t know all the details.

  “You’re right.” She half-turned against the car, presenting him with a view of her still-cuffed hands. “I cooperated. Now please take these off before I lose all circulation in my fingers.”

  Mike unlocked the cuffs from Cami first, then Harley. “You gave in too easy,” he said as he released the cuffs, and she rubbed at her wrists. “That means you’re up to something. What?”

  “Nothing. Okay, maybe a brief discussion with Jordan. I hate it when people lie to me or don’t tell me what I need to know.”

  “Yeah, it sucks, doesn’t it?”

  “I only do that so you won’t worry,” she said. “This isn’t at all the same thing.”

  “And yet it has the same results. Stay away from Jordan. Forget helping him out. He hasn’t been straight with you, and he’s liable to get you killed.”

  “So it seems.”

  “Then you’re going to quit letting this guy yank you around?”

  “That’s a definite. Am I free to go?”

  Mike said, “Against my better judgment, yes. Stay out of trouble. Stay away from Jordan Cleveland.”

  “I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble.”

  “Harley—why do I get the feeling this isn’t over?”

  “I cannot imagine. It’s your natural suspicion, I suppose. Being a cop and all, it’s your first reaction. Don’t worry. I have no intention of letting this guy get away with any more lies.”

  “I have a better idea.” Mike moved so close to her she could feel the heat off his body. “Let him get away with lying to you. Leave him alone. Don’t take his calls. Don’t meet him anywhere. Forget he exists.”

  She patted him on the arm. “Your concern is touching. I’ll be just fine, and I don’t plan on continuing my investigations for someone who lies to me. I can’t be effective if he doesn’t tell me the truth.”

  Morgan caught her by the arm when she turned away. “So you’re saying you’re done helping
Jordan, right?”

  “He lied to me. I hate being lied to. I hate people shooting at me. I’m going to tell Jordan exactly what I think of him. He’ll be lucky if I don’t charge him a nuisance fee.”

  He released her arm, but his expression was still wary. “If only I could be sure of that.”

  “Bet the bank on it, sport. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some shrieking to do.”

  The police were wrapping up their collection of bullet shells and inspection of the area, and Harley and Cami got into her car, and she drove slowly out of the parking lot and into traffic.

  “Are you really through helping Jordan?” asked Cami. “Just curious.”

  “Why would I want to help someone who lied to me and didn’t bother telling me he has guys with guns looking for him? He left out the part where his ex-wife hired a few killers. I hate being shot at, I really do.”

  “I’m not so crazy about it either. Can you take me home now? I’ve had enough fun for the day.”

  “I can and I am. And I’m going to call Mister Jordan Cleveland and find out what the hell he was thinking getting me mixed up in this. Then I’m calling Tootsie. He needs to know his friend isn’t all that good about telling the truth.”

  “Well,” said Cami, “it makes more sense now why he asked you to help him instead of asking the police. I mean, they figured out pretty quickly that he’s mixed up in something more than just a messy divorce.”

  “The police have better software programs. And they can do illegal stuff legally. I can’t.”

  “Oh, don’t get defensive. I didn’t mean anything by it but that they’re able to do that kind of stuff.”

  Harley sighed. “I know. What gets me the most is that I should have checked him out a lot more thoroughly. It sounded plausible that an ex-wife is trying to kill him so I didn’t do my homework. My mistake.”