by Mike Ryan
“A little out of hand? You killed her,” Mia emotionally said.
“She shouldn’t have slapped me like she did. Made me mad,” Simmons unapologetically replied.
“You don’t seem like it even bothers you in the least.”
“Not the first time I’ve had to do something like that.”
“How’d she even meet you anyway?” Mia wondered.
“My cousin was the parent of one of her patients. One day he asked if I could take the kid to see her cause he couldn’t get off work. So after it was over I asked if I could take her out sometime,” Simmons revealed.
“How many times did you go out with her?”
“Before I killed her? Just once. We had one date before the unfortunate mistake on her part.”
Just listening to the man explain himself and keep referring to Hanley’s death as an unfortunate event made Mia’s blood boil. She’d never hated anyone as much as she did right at that moment. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about it. She wasn’t armed and wasn’t sure how she was going to get out of the situation.
“So how’d you find out about me?” Simmons asked. “Nobody else knew about me. Nobody else was aware we knew each other. Not even the cops. What tipped you off?”
“When I was cleaning out Susie’s apartment I saw a piece of paper in one of her books. It had your name on it.”
Simmons let out a slight laugh. “I knew it had to be something stupid like that. You talked to my cousin last week and when you mentioned my name, he called me to let me know. I’ve been keeping tabs on you for the last week.”
“So what are you going to do with us?” Mia wondered, hoping not to hear what she thought she would.
Simmons shrugged, waving his gun around. “Well, unfortunately for you, you now know my secret. You know who I am, you know what happened to your friend, and I just can’t let you go walking around with that kind of knowledge, now can I?”
“And if I say that I won’t tell anyone?”
Simmons laughed, amused at the request. “Do I look that stupid?”
“Well, kind of,” Mia joked.
“Sorry, lady. You and your friend are going to be joining your other friend in a few minutes. By the way, who is this guy?” Simmons wondered.
“Just a friend.”
“You sure have a lot of friends who are gonna turn up dead.”
“You don’t think we came up here without telling anyone, did you?” Mia asked, hoping to delay what she hoped wasn’t inevitable.
“You’re lying.”
Mia shrugged.
“Who’d you tell?” Simmons asked, now getting a slight look of concern on his face.
“You’ll meet them soon enough. Unless they kill you before you get a chance to see their faces,” Mia told him, hoping to get him nervous enough that he’d just leave.
“Sorry, I think I’m better off just blowing the both of your heads off before anyone else arrives and just blowing the scene.”
Simmons raised his gun up to Mia’s head, about a foot away from her forehead and was about to pull the trigger. Mia closed her eyes, not believing that she was stupid enough to put themselves in that situation. Recker was right, she thought. She wasn’t trained in this sort of thing and she wasn’t prepared for what might result from her asking questions. If she was going to find her way out of her predicament, she was going to have to think of something fast.
“If you kill me, there’s no place on earth that you can hide from him,” Mia quickly stated, almost stumbling over her words to get them out before he pulled the trigger.
“From who?” Simmons wondered.
“I told him that I was coming here,” she said, breathing heavily as she tried to think.
“Told who?” Simmons angrily asked.
“If I don’t make it out of here, there’s nowhere that you can go that he won’t find you.”
“I’m not gonna ask a third time.”
“The Silencer,” she finally revealed.
Recker’s reputation had grown so much that everyone knew his moniker. Most people thought he did good work, helping those in need. But criminals like Simmons and others of his ilk, had become deathly afraid of hearing his name. Most that had rap sheets, except for the extremely dangerous ones, hoped to never cross paths with him. Simmons could be counted among those that hoped to never find him. Though he was dangerous in his own right, after the countless stories that he’d heard over the past year involving Recker, he wasn’t eager to mix it up with him.
“You know The Silencer?” Simmons asked.
Mia hesitated, hearing the worry in his voice as he said the name. “Yes.”
“How do you know him?”
“I’m just a friend.”
“Just a friend, huh? How do I know you’re telling the truth. Maybe you’re lying and just saying that,” Simmons stated.
“I’m not. He already knows about you.”
Simmons didn’t seem to be convinced. “Yeah, well, if he knows about me then why isn’t he here right now instead of you and the professor looking guy over there?”
“He was attending to something else and I told him that I could do this and there wouldn’t be any problems,” Mia explained.
“Looks like you were incorrect on that one,” Simmons scoffed.
“Tell me about it.”
“Well if he’s on my trail than it doesn’t look like I need you either way,” Simmons said, raising his gun up again.
“No, please,” Mia pleaded. “I can get him to back off you. But I can only do that if we walk out of here alive.”
Jones began to stir and noticed that Simmons seemed to be so preoccupied with Mia that he didn’t even pay any attention to him. Though he still felt a little groggy and was sure he had a concussion, he knew he had to do something if the two of them were going to walk out of their alive. He reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew the gun he took out of Recker’s safe. He quickly pointed it at Simmons and pulled the trigger. Jones had fired too hastily though and didn’t take long enough to aim properly. His vision was somewhat blurry and he had more time than he thought he would. He missed Simmons completely, the bullet lodging into the wall behind him. Simmons ducked and ran over to Jones and kicked the gun out of his hand, then punched him in the face. Jones blacked out again.
With Simmons’s back turned towards her, Mia rushed over to him and jumped on his back, hoping to dislodge the gun from his hand. After a brief struggle, Simmons hunched over and flung Mia over his shoulder. She landed hard on the wood floor, the back of her head striking it. She winced in pain as she grasped the back of her head. Simmons took a few steps back to make sure there was a safe distance between him and his two hostages, both of whom were still laying on the floor. He still held his gun out, taking turns at pointing to both of his would-be victims as he contemplated his next move. He wasn’t completely sure that the woman in front of him was being honest that she knew The Silencer. But he thought it seemed like an odd thing for someone to blurt out, even one who was in as much trouble as she was. If she really did know him, and he killed her, Simmons knew he was as good as dead. But, if he were to take them with him to find out the truth, and they did know him, then Simmons could trade their lives for his own personal safety. And if it turned out that they didn’t know The Silencer, then he could kill them at a later time. After a couple more minutes debating with himself the merits of both killing them, or taking them with him, he finally decided on what action to take.
“All right, get up,” Simmons said.
Mia did as instructed and slowly got to her feet, thinking both her and Jones were as good as dead. She was a bit surprised when Simmons told them he was taking them with him.
“Get your friend up too,” Simmons told her.
“He needs medical attention,” Mia replied.
“He’ll be fine. Whatever he needs, you can do it.”
“What are you gonna do with us now?”
“I’m gonna take
you with me for now. If you really do know The Silencer, then you’re gonna call him and you’re gonna get him off my trail,” Simmons informed her.
“Well you already smashed my phone so I can’t call him.”
“What about his?”
Mia knelt and searched through Jones’ pockets but couldn’t find his phone anywhere. She thought she saw him with it but couldn’t be sure of where it went to.
“I can’t find it,” Mia told him.
“Whatever. We don’t have time right now anyway,” Simmons said. “Cops are probably gonna be here soon enough. Someone probably heard that shot and called it in. We have to get going.”
“So where are you taking us?”
“I’m gonna take you to a place nobody else knows about. Then you’re gonna contact your friend. Wake your friend up and get him on his feet. And you better not be lying to me or else I’ll kill you on the spot.”
Chapter 6
Recker didn’t stop worrying about what Jones and Mia were doing, especially since he didn’t know the exact specifics. That sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him something was wrong only intensified as the time rolled by. He glanced at his phone just as the time changed to one o’clock. He started fidgeting around as he contemplated what he wanted to do. Either Jones or Mia should’ve checked in with him by now. With his experience, he’d attended several of these informant meetings and he never had one that lasted this long. Even if someone was late, it should’ve only lasted five or ten minutes tops.
Recker now had a dilemma. Did he stay and wait for Edwards to show up? Or did he forget about him and head back to Philadelphia to check on his friends? If Jones and Mia were in trouble, they would need every second of his time that Recker could give. If Edwards didn’t show up for another five or six hours, that was precious time that he wasn’t sure his friends had enough of. After a few minutes of thought, there was no other decision for him to make. Even if he got back to Philadelphia and found his friends were safe, he now knew where Edwards lived. He could always come back. And if the unthinkable happened, and his friends were no longer among the living, finding and killing Edwards would be the only thing he had left.
Before leaving, he tried calling Jones’ phone a couple times. He then sent him a few text messages urging him to let him know they were OK. After five minutes, he turned his attention to Mia’s phone. He tried her number a few times but hers went straight to voicemail. That was an immediate red flag as Recker knew she never turned her phone off. With her position as a nurse, she previously had told him that she never had her phone off unless it was broken somehow. Mia always kept it on in case of an emergency. Even if she was in a setting where the ringer had to be off or something, she just set it to vibrate so she could still be alerted.
Recker put his car in drive and headed back toward the highway. If he hurried, he thought he had a chance to make it back in eleven or twelve hours. But in the middle of the day, there was a good chance he’d hit some traffic on the way. If Jones and Mia were in as much trouble as Recker suspected they were, he was going to need some help before he got back. He picked his phone back up and started making some calls.
“Tyrell, I need a big favor,” Recker immediately said.
“Name it.”
“There’s a couple people I think are in trouble. One of them’s the professor.”
“OK?”
“They told me they were meeting someone at the Haddix Apartment complex at twelve. They still haven’t checked in yet. I get the feeling something’s wrong.”
“So why don’t you just go there yourself?” Gibson asked.
“I’m in Ohio right now. I’m on my way back there but I’m at least ten or twelve hours away.”
“Ohio? What the hell you doing down there?”
“A story for another time. Do you think you can go there and check out the place? Do you have the time?” Recker asked.
“For you, yeah, I got the time. Haddix Apartments?”
“Yeah. You familiar with it?”
“Yeah, I been there a few times,” Gibson answered.
“Well? What about it? What kind of place is it?”
“There’s only two reasons most people go there.”
“Which are?”
“You either looking for trouble or you running away from it.”
“Crap.”
“So if you haven’t heard from them…they most likely found it.”
“All right. How soon can you get there?” Recker asked.
“Gimme about twenty minutes. What’s the room number?”
“217. Call me when you get there.”
“Will do.”
These were the sorts of scenarios that Recker told Jones about when they first started this operation. No matter how good Jones was with computers, like Recker said, he still needed eyes and ears out on the street. There would be times that you needed contacts, friends, people you trusted to do things that a computer couldn’t. As Recker continued to drive, his worst fears were starting to flutter front and center in his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling that at least one, or even both, were dead or badly hurt. The next twenty minutes were probably the second longest of his life. The only other instance in which time seemed to go by so slowly was that night in London after Carrie was killed. In that case, it seemed like time stopped completely. The biggest difference now was that he just didn’t know. Usually, the uncertainty of not knowing was almost as bad as the pain of knowing the end result. At least with Carrie, though he never had closure yet, or a sense of finality with her killer still at large, at least he had the knowledge that there was nothing else that could be done to save her. Now, he didn’t know whether his friends were alive or dead. And that ate him up just as bad.
Recker kept checking the time, counting down until Gibson called. Once the twenty minute mark was up, and still no call, Recker started worrying more. He imagined that Gibson walked in on a bloody crime scene. He quickly shook his head, trying to get the visions out of his mind and think more positively. Five more minutes passed by with still no word from Gibson. Recker had never been much of an anxious person. Never seemed to worry about much or let much bother him. But when it came to his friends, he was worried sick. As Recker sped down the road, another five minutes came and went before his phone finally started ringing.
“Tyrell, what took you so long? You said twenty minutes,” Recker said.
“Man, you know Philly traffic. Took me like twenty five minutes just to get here,” Gibson responded.
“So what’s the situation there? How’s it looking?” Recker asked with a lump in his throat, praying he wouldn’t get the answer that he feared.
“Place is empty, man.”
“Empty?”
“Yeah. I mean, like, real empty. Hardly even looks like somebody lives here. If they do, they must not believe in modern technology or anything.”
“Tell me what you see. Any signs of a struggle or a fight or anything?”
Gibson looked around the room but didn’t notice anything. “Nah, man. Like I said, there’s not even much here to mess up. Even if there was a fight there’s no way of knowing.”
“Damn,” Recker sighed, thinking of his next course of action.
“Hold up, there’s a hole in the wall.”
“What kind of hole?”
“Like a bullet hole.”
“What’s near it?”
“Whadya mean, what’s near it?”
“Well is there blood on the wall or floor underneath it?” Recker asked.
“Nah, nothing.”
“Whoever shot it must’ve missed their target then.”
“Anything else?”
“Not that I see. Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Gibson stated, walking to the other side of the room and looking more closely at the floor and wall where Jones had been propped up.
“What is it?”
Gibson knelt by the wall and touched the red mark on the floor with his finger to an
alyze it. “It’s blood, man.”
“You notice anything else? Maybe something that was dropped by mistake, or even on purpose? Anything that seems out of place?”
“No, like I said, there ain’t much here to begin with,” Gibson answered, moving throughout the apartment just to double check.
“The only thing you see is the blood?” Recker asked.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“How much is it? Like someone got shot?”
“Uhh, no, I don’t think so. It’s not like a big pool or anything, more like a couple drips here or there. More like someone got busted up in the head or something. Maybe even the hand.”
“Thanks Tyrell.”
“No problem. I don’t know what it was, but something went down here. What’s the name of the dude that lives here anyway?”
“Professor told me the name was Joe Simmons,” Recker replied.
“Joe Simmons,” Gibson repeated. “Joe Simmons.”
“You don’t know him, do you?”
“I dunno. For some reason that name rings a bell. Like I heard of him somewhere before.”
“Well think. There’s two lives that are hanging in the balance here.”
“I’m thinking, I’m thinking.”
“Yeah, well while you’re doing that, check one more thing for me?” Recker wondered.
“Depends.”
“Check the parking lot and see if their cars are there?”
Since it was such a simple request, Gibson agreed and left the room to head down to the parking lot. Recker let him know the makes of Jones’ and Mia’s car along with the license plate numbers. Once Gibson got down to the lot and spent a few minutes checking, he spotted Jones’ car. He walked behind the car and looked at the license plate, getting a match.
“I know you won’t like this, but I got the professor’s car here,” Gibson revealed.
“What about the other one?”
Gibson walked past a few more cars then stopped, noticing a car that fit the description that Recker gave him. He went to the rear of the car and read the plate number, once again getting a match.
