by Amy Lane
Jackson scowled and stood up, stretching more on purpose this time and less on flail.
Then he glared at Ellery. “You drugged me!”
Ellery nodded. “I got your cat fixed while you were in surgery, fighting for your life. Why does this surprise you?”
“You Machiavellian bastard!”
“And I’ll repeat—”
“But Tess Dakin—”
“Would not be any closer to found,” Ellery told him truthfully. “Jade is coming in with some maps and some lists. I’ve just spent an hour eliminating the most obvious ones that don’t fit the bill. In an hour we’ll have a list we can use to canvass the area. Right now it would just be shooting in the dark.”
Jackson let out a grunt, like he was hurt. On automatic, his hand came up and cupped his upper arm.
“Sore?” Ellery asked quietly. Of course it was sore. Ellery was just worried about infection or bleeding.
“Hurts,” Jackson slurred. Slowly, like he was afraid the chair would betray him at the last minute, he grabbed the back and sank down. “I can’t believe you drugged me.”
“I can’t believe you thought tea would taste like grape cough syrup.”
“And anise,” he whined.
“Well, the anise was really the tea,” Ellery soothed. “How’s your throat?”
“It felt better while I was sleeping,” Jackson admitted. He scrubbed at his face. “What do I need to do right now?”
“Take a look. I’ve got about thirty properties here that will fit the bill for our ‘studio.’ I just sent the list to Kryzynski, and he’s hitting up the Carmichael side. As soon as we plot this shit out on Jade’s map, make some probability guesses, we can start working on the North Highlands areas.”
“Dandy.”
Jackson made to stand up, but Ellery grabbed his laptop and sat down at the table with him. He got a faint smile of appreciation before Jackson took the laptop and squinted at the screen.
“What the—”
“Hush,” Ellery commanded, using his proximity to feel his forehead and the back of his neck. “God, you’re burning up. Jade suggested we leave while you were sleeping. Do you know that?”
The look of hurt Jackson shot him said very plainly Ellery had made the right choice. “Leave me behind?”
Ellery kept it casual. “Hey—that was your ex speaking, not me. I’d prefer someone who knows how to use a firearm, personally.”
Jackson groaned. “My fucking weapons were in the fucking car.”
“Seriously?” Ellery knew Jackson had two guns—a small gun safe had been installed in his garage when Jackson moved in. He also had a Taser—but he rarely armed himself. “All of them?”
“Yes, all of them. I don’t want guns in your house!”
“That’s why the safe was in the garage!” Ellery had a horrible thought. “Jesus!” He pulled out his phone and hit speed dial. “Kryzynski, where are you?”
“Carmichael. It’s so sweet I want to pick out curtains.”
Ellery rolled his eyes. “Not all of Carmichael is that sweet—”
“Yeah, well, there’s this apartment on Watt that looks like serial killers live there, but so far we haven’t found any warehouses with live detectives or dead bodies. Why are you calling me sounding freaked-out?”
“Because Jackson’s car had two guns and a Taser in it when Owens took him. The car was found wrecked last—two nights ago, but I didn’t know to check for the weapons.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because Owens has Jackson’s guns!” Ellery snapped.
“Oh my God, there is a bad guy in America with a deadly weapon—alert the fucking news!”
Ellery looked at Jackson with flat eyes. “The next time you see this asshole, feel free to kick him in the balls.”
Jackson got one of those hooded-eyed grins that Ellery always associated with Billy Bob when he was done licking himself. “Heh, heh, heh, heh….”
Kryzynski exhaled on the other end of the line. “Fine. Why are you telling me this?”
“So if Owens uses one of those guns, his lawyer can’t get him off by using reasonable doubt and claiming Jackson could have used it.” God—it was so obvious!
Kryzynski apparently didn’t think so. “Thinking like a defense attorney. Go figure.”
“Yeah, go figure. I’ve almost got a smaller list to send you—try not to get shot with Jackson’s gun after I hang up.”
“I’ll make that a priority.”
He hung up, and Ellery scrubbed at his eyes and growled.
“All us dumb cops peeving you off?” Jackson rasped, still smiling.
“If we’re going to do hero shit, I would really like a weapon,” Ellery told him, but he was unsurprised when Jackson gave a one-armed shrug.
“Says the man who talked our last bad guy into submission. I didn’t really like guns even when I was a cop—too easy to use the gun and not your brain.”
Ellery grunted. “Can’t argue with that.” God knows, the evidence had been on social media often enough. Scared cops killing even more frightened citizens, and a government so afraid of its own bias it couldn’t admit what was happening. “But this guy is scary dangerous.”
Jackson nodded. “Sure—but he’s also personal. He’s a knife and fist kind of guy. And think about it like this. How much damage could I have done with a gun after I’d been pumped full of heroin? Hm? Bet you’re glad I didn’t have a gun on me then, right?”
Ellery shuddered, feeling ill. “That doesn’t mean—”
Jackson’s hand on his knee surprised him. “Don’t worry. I’d die before he hurts you.”
Ellery squeezed Jackson’s hand. “That’s actually what I’m worried about.” God, he was so sick, his face a wan white, bright spots of color burning on his cheekbones. Ellery closed his eyes and tried to contain his worry.
Jackson’s lips—hot and dry—on his temple simultaneously soothed him and worried him further. Ellery savored the brief reassurance, the kindness from a man who didn’t know conventional ways to show kindness, before standing up to go get him ibuprofen. The day had hardly begun.
JADE ARRIVED, and in a relatively short time they had a board set up, the victim locations pinned in red, the places Owens had used pinned in blue, and the most likely places for a den or studio in green.
And the list narrowed down some more.
Ellery sent Kryzynski a copy of the refined choices and turned to see Jackson stalking in front of the board.
“What?”
“I know this apartment complex.” He traced his finger in a circle around a pin in one of the worst areas of Watt Avenue by McClellan. “It’s not that full.” He frowned. “In fact….” He turned to Jade, who was manning the computer. “Jade, look this place up, by the community center, okay? The back part—there’s a dead-end street behind it.”
Jade nodded and started clicking, pulling up Google Earth and playing with the perspective.
“Well, this place looks like shit,” she said softly. “I think you’re right, Jackson. I’m not sure when they took this shot, but there’s tape over all the doors.”
“Condemned?” Ellery asked. “How far away is it from other places?”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute….”
Jade switched from Google Earth to Craigslist. “Okay—yeah. This property is for sale, all of it. It’s sitting on a two-acre lot—so it goes back bigger than it looks from the front.”
“It wouldn’t take much to turn the power and water on in there,” Jackson said thoughtfully. “And once he got off the street—”
“Nobody would see him.”
“Yeah. Jade, is Mike home?”
“Why?”
Jackson pulled out his phone and texted—presumably Mike—and Ellery made eye contact with Jade, trying to figure out what he was doing.
“He’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” Jackson said. “With his firearm and Kevlar.” Jackson shook his head. “Jade, what in
the hell is he doing with a Kevlar vest?”
“He practices on the shooting range. You know that!” Her voice pitched defensively, and Ellery wondered if that hadn’t been a point not in Mike’s favor before the two had started dating.
“I did not know about the Kevlar,” Jackson muttered. His full mouth quirked. “But then, better safe than sorry. Anyway—he’s bringing us a vest and a firearm. Ellery, tell Kryzynski where we’re going. He may be able to get there more quickly than we will.”
“Why don’t you just have Mike meet us there with the equipment?” Jade asked guilelessly, and Ellery shivered at the way Jackson’s expression shut down.
“Because you and Mike aren’t getting anywhere near that place,” he said grimly. Then he let out a moan and leaned his head back, massaging what was probably a sore neck. “But dammit, your SUV might have to be. We can’t take Ellery’s car there. It’ll stick out like a gold thumb.”
Jade scowled. “I don’t even know what happened to your car. Did you wreck it?”
Jackson’s panicked look seared Ellery to the bone, but Ellery wasn’t going to lie to Jade about this.
“Owens wrecked it,” Ellery said softly. “It’s how Jackson got away.”
Jade stared at both of them, mouth opening and closing.
“You said… you never said any of that.” She pulled in a breath and let it out. “Is there… is there something else I need to know?”
Jackson couldn’t look at her. “Jade—it was a bad fucking night. You saw the clothes—you’ve got some idea. Please, honey. Don’t make me tell you. Don’t. It…. We’ve got shit to do, and I just don’t ever want you to know.”
She closed her eyes and inhaled, but her chin wasn’t going to stop quivering with just a deep breath. “You sound like shit,” she said brutally. “You look worse. The minute Owens is in custody, I’m calling K. He will come out here and yell at you and drag you to the hospital by the fucking ear. And if Ellery already has you in the hospital, he’ll make sure you stay.”
“Sounds awesome,” Jackson returned—and Ellery was sure he meant that. “But first, Ellery, call your guy. I’m going to go get some goddamned coffee, and then we’ll go down and meet Mike. He’s got a cop, guys. What I went through the night before last was a cakewalk compared to what she’s going through. Let’s go.”
Jackson called break, and Ellery picked up the phone to call backup, but even as he relayed the information to Kryzynski—and lied his ass off about not going in when they got there—he was wondering. Did Jackson really have a plan?
Fish Under the Bridge
EVEN MIKE felt compelled to tell him he looked like hell.
Aces.
“Kid, if you were standing on my kitchen floor, I’d pick you up with tissue and throw you in the crapper. Get your ass to bed.”
“Fuck you and give me your gun.”
Mike snorted.
“What in the hell do you think you’re going to hit with that?”
Jackson took a breath and said something honest. “Celia’s killer.”
Mike was pulled up alongside their building, idling in a metered spot while Jackson chatted through the window to collect the gun. Behind him he heard Ellery and Jade gasp.
“You looking to do that?” Mike asked soberly. “Because she wasn’t worth killing for, kid.”
Jackson shivered. “No, she’s fucked up my life enough as it is. I’m just saying—the guy is crazy as fuck. And he’s got my guns. I’ve got a permit to carry—maybe not this weapon, but I’ve got a permit. Protection, Mike. That’s all I need.”
“Vest is on the seat, gun’s in the glove compartment.” Mike peered at Ellery, his merry blue eyes as sober as Jackson had ever seen them. “You get around here and drive. I wouldn’t trust him with a radio-control car.”
Ellery let out a wicked laugh, and Jackson felt just good enough to roll his eyes.
“Thanks, Mike.” Jackson clasped Mike’s forearm through the window while Ellery scrambled around, dodging traffic, so he could get into the front of Jade’s SUV. He must have dropped her off that morning. Shit. “Ellery, give Jade the Lexus keys. We’ll switch off when this is over.”
“Davis Med Center,” Ellery said, clapping Mike on the back as he slid out. “We’re going there immediately after.”
“Call me.”
Jackson slid into the passenger’s seat grimly, doing his seat belt as Ellery did his. “I am impressed at how quickly you managed to commandeer my family,” he muttered.
“Well, good, because my mother adores you,” Ellery told him smoothly. “Now is there any special trick to driving this fucking thing besides remembering it’s big?”
“Not hitting anything in the way?” Jackson told him straight-faced. It was a Chevy—how hard could it be?
Ellery grunted and concentrated on getting them out of downtown, and Jackson fumbled with the vest.
Pulling the Velcro on his bad side made his vision swim. God, this fucking shoulder—it had hurt less when he’d been shot. After a particularly nasty wrench, he decided the vest would have to do. In celebration, he leaned his head against the window and concentrated on not throwing up. Ellery had dosed him with more medication, and he was functional, but underneath the adrenaline and the drive to rescue a good woman and a hopefully decent cop was the terrible ticking knowledge of the physical time bomb: He was heading for a crash.
Ellery’s voice penetrated the fog as they hit the relative peace of I-80. “Are you?”
“Wgha?” He struggled to sit up.
“Sorry. I should have just let you rest.”
Jackson took a moment to look at him as he drove, bony jaw clenched, impressively dark eyebrows furrowed. So earnest. “No worries. What was the question again?”
“Would you shoot him?”
“Mike? No—he’s my friend.”
“Oh dear God—we’re gonna die. I should just turn the car around and take you to the hospital. You’re delusional. Owens!”
It was cute the way Ellery’s eyes got all big when he freaked out, but Jackson needed to keep his attention on the conversation. “Would I shoot him?”
“Yes.”
“Well, not in the back, but, you know, armed and dangerous, yeah.” Because it was pretty much a thing you decided as a police officer—to take someone’s life in public service.
Ellery surprised him. “Good.”
“Hunh.”
“Yeah, not the answer you were expecting.” Ellery let out a breath. “I don’t want you to have to testify.”
Jackson thought about it. “Worse things,” he decided without passion. “Way worse things.”
“Like what?”
Jackson thought about it and shuddered. “Just stay safe while we’re there,” he mumbled, not strong enough to think about the alternative. “Just don’t make me even say it.”
“Yeah.” Ellery let out a breath. “Twelve hours. Twelve hours from the time they found your car to when I found you in our bed. I thought it, Jackson. Ten times a minute, every way you could think it. Just remember that when we’re looking for Dakin, okay?”
Ellery pulled off at Watt and turned north toward some of the more depressing markers of urban neglect—big seventies-era shopping complexes with iced windows and crumbling parking lots, strip malls housing small extremist churches, and miles of liquor stores and cheap fast food with no grocery stores in sight.
On the far end, near Elkhorn, stood an optimistic grammar school, awash in color and desperate hope, next to a newer community center. The apartment complex by the community center hunkered back from the road, wedged between old duplexes with the garage side facing the road and the pleasant green walkway for the center itself.
At Jackson’s direction, Ellery drove through the empty community center parking lot, toward the back. A thicket of oleander separated the center parking lot from the complex, but if you kept walking, down through the vacant field, you could go around the oleander and, hopefully, find a way into the
abandoned apartment complex.
“That way.” Jackson pointed to a low place on the curb. “Just floor it—the SUV will take that—we can park on the field.”
“You know, we could have just driven down the cul-de-sac behind the complex—”
“This is better. He can’t see us. I hope. Is your little buddy on his way?”
“He was going to finish the two places he was near when we called.” Ellery scowled in obvious anxiety. “He should be here in ten.”
“Good—he can get credit if we live. Stop here.”
“We’re going in?” Ellery stared at him in surprise. “It’s ten minutes, Jackson!”
“I’m going in. I’m going to look around. Remember, Dakin is the priority. We’ve been hoping she’s got a little bit of time, but if she did, it’s running out.”
Ellery opened the door and slid out while Jackson was still fumbling for his seat belt. “Dammit, Ellery!” His feet hit the ground with a thump that almost shook him apart, and the icy wind chewed through everything but the Kevlar.
“Twelve hours,” Ellery said, coming around to take the scarf off his neck and throw it in the car. Smart move—it would hinder him in a fight. “I’m not watching you go in there sick and shaking to see if you come out.”
Jackson didn’t have the fight in him for this. “At least take the vest,” he snapped.
Ellery folded his arms. “Sure. Take it off.”
The sound Jackson made then wasn’t entirely sane. “Ellery—”
“Wait for backup!”
Jackson might have, if they hadn’t heard the muffled sound of a woman screaming from the other side of the oleander.
Without argument, Jackson took off, knowing Ellery was at his heels. Dammit—dammit. He knew this guy couldn’t wait. Owens might have been stealthy for the last two years, but he’d been following Bridger around like a lapdog too, trying to fit in, trying to be normal. Bridger got arrested and Owens had spiraled—the drugs had spiraled, the death toll.
Owens imagined some sort of connection between himself and Jackson. If he’d taken Dakin to lure Jackson in, he just didn’t have it in him to hold her that long to see if the gambit would work.
