Web of Lies

by Elizabeth Knox

  After searching for over an hour, Brian pulled the truck to a grinding stop.

  “I have roll call in an hour,” Brian said sharply. “Drive me home. Take the truck . . .”

  Torian peered over at Brian and said, “How much you wanna bet that they’re in Salem Point?”

  Lev piped up from the backseat, “That’s what Stitches told Tony . . .”

  Brian gave a charged glare in his rearview mirror. Then peering over at Torian, he said, “Try calling Peck’s cell phone again.”

  Torian pulled out his phone and quickly began dialing Peck’s digits. Bringing the phone up to his ear, Torian listened as Peck’s phone went straight to voicemail. Slamming his thumb down upon the end key, Torian let out an audible sigh.

  “No dice,” Torian said. “His calls are going straight to voicemail. Phone is probably dead.”

  “Fuck,” Brian snarled as he slammed his hands down upon the steering wheel.

  “We gotta keep looking . . .” Lev said from the backseat, trying to sound hopeful.

  “Yeah . . .” Brian said as he made a sharp turn on Washington Avenue. “I get that. This is fucked up.”

  “FUBAR,” Torian said.

  “FUBAR?” Lev asked.

  “Yeah, man! FUBAR! Fucked up beyond all recognition!”

  “Yeah,” Brian agreed as a dark look took over his eyes. “It is.”

  Keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him, Brian drove to his house which was twenty minutes away in West Corner. Double parking outside his house, Brian rushed in, the screen door slamming behind him. Just a few moments later, Brian emerged with his pressed uniform in his hand. Climbing back into the cab of the truck, Brian ignored his girlfriend that was screaming from the door and slammed on the gas one more time.

  “Old lady pissed?” Torian asked with a smirk.

  “Oh, her? No that’s her personality.”

  “Damn,” Lev spat.

  “I know. Fucking shoot me.”

  Brian didn’t waste any time getting out of Dodge as he veered around the corner of his street. A short fifteen minutes later, Brian pulled up outside of the South End police station. Torian moved over into the driver’s seat. Nodding his head at his buddies, Brian walked away, his broad shoulders slumped over a little bit as he dragged under the weight of the situation. As Brian disappeared behind the double doors of the police station, Torian tore off. Weaving through the streets of South End, the wheels of the truck screeched as Torian followed the signs for Salem Point, New Jersey.

  The clock ticked by the seconds loudly as Maude paced nervously across her living room floor. There was a knock at the front door. She and Hector exchanged a charged glance as a heavy hand banged thrice upon the front door.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Maude’s breath shook a little as her anxiety upticked a few more notches. Hector rose to his feet from the couch and marched towards the front door with a look of purpose in his eyes. Holding a hand up to Maude, he indicated that he would answer the door.

  “Who is it?” Nick asked as he stood nervously in the living room.

  “Maybe the detective,” Hector said. “I’m about to find out.”

  The vestibule door pulled open with a groan, the hinges in desperate need of greasing. Approaching the front door, Hector pulled aside the sheer valance over the small pane of glass to see who it was that was knocking before he dared open the door. A middle-aged man stood on the front step waiting for Hector to let him in. Dressed casually in a black ball cap, a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans, Detective Conrad looked like an Average Joe visiting an old friend. As Hector peered out the pain of glass with a nervous glint to his gaze, Detective Conrad held up his credentials.

  “It’s the Detective,” Hector called back to Maude in a reassuring voice.

  A sigh of relief rushed out from between Maude’s lips. Hector unlatched the deadbolt with a bang, just before swinging the front door wide open. Hector nodded at the Detective and stood aside to let him through the door. Detective Conrad moved quickly, not wanting anyone to see or suspect anything.

  “Excuse my state of dress, but these matters require a low profile,” Detective Conrad said to Hector. He shook his hand once. “John Conrad. We’ve met before, yes?”

  Hector nodded once, “Yes. Back in February.”

  Conrad nodded in understanding as he emerged from the vestibule. Meeting his eyes with Maude, he gave her a somber expression. Maude reached out to the detective, and he closed his hands around Maude’s right hand. “You hang in there,” Conrad said. “We’re going to figure this out.”

  He had a leather portfolio tucked under his left arm. Placing it down upon the coffee table, Conrad jumped right into the business at hand.

  “Nick,” Maude said in a rough voice. “Go put on a pot of coffee.”

  “Umm, I’ll try . . .” Nick said reluctantly knowing full well he had no idea how to use a coffee pot.

  “C’mon,” Hector said as he led Nick out of the room. “I’ll help you.”

  Peering back over his shoulder, Hector gave Maude a charged glance as she began to talk to the Detective. Stepping into the kitchen, Hector flicked on a light and gave a weary look at Nick who appeared to be distraught beyond measure. Nick’s eyes overflowed with tears and although his lips stretched into a thin line, Hector could tell that the emotions and the turmoil that the teen was experiencing were overwhelming.

  “Steady, kiddo,” Hector said to Nick. “We’re going to get this figured out.”

  Just then, Hector’s cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Looking at the screen, Hector’s heart quickened when he recognized Tony’s number.

  “Tony? What news?”

  Nick could hear Tony speaking loudly into the phone. He watched Hector’s mannerisms carefully for any hint of what information was being relayed.

  “What hospital?” Hector asked in an urgent voice.

  Nick’s eyes became frantic as he stared at Hector’s face. “Is it Alanna?! Did they find her?!”

  “Tony . . .” Hector continued talking into the phone, ignoring Nick’s question. “Any word on Alanna? We called the Detective. No, not 911. A detective that’s familiar with everything that’s been going on. Does anyone know where she is or if she is okay?”

  Hector waited with bated breath for an answer, but then when his face fell, Nick got the answer to his question. As Hector ended the call, he peered up at Nick with sad eyes and said.

  “No sign of Alanna. Cris is in the hospital, they’re doing x-rays on his right leg.”

  “Right leg? Why?!” Nick exclaimed. “Was he jumped?”

  “Tony didn’t say, but that’s what I’m assuming,” Hector said as he rose from his chair. There was a deeply stressed look on his face. “Nicholas, stay with your grandmother. I’ll be back.”

  “Where are you going?!” Nick asked frantically.

  “I need to check on my son,” Hector admitted firmly. “I will be back. Please help her. Call me if I’m needed for anything.”

  Cris sat upon an observation table in Triage Room 2 while he waited for a nurse to come in. He fidgeted upon the table, becoming more agitated by the second. Tony stood next to his brother with a firm hand on his shoulder.

  “Sit still,” Tony urged. “They’ll be in soon.”

  “I’m fine!” Cris insisted as he tried to get himself down from the table. “I need to be out there looking for her!”

  As Cris tried to ease himself down upon his good leg, Tony and Charlie held him in place. They each placed a firm hand on Cris’s shoulders, preventing him from leaving the hospital.

  “You’re not fine . . .” Charlie said firmly. “You have to take care of yourself, too.”

  “We have a bunch of guys out there looking for her. Torian and Lev are searching Salem Point right now.”

  “What about Peck? Where the fuck is he?!” Cris demanded to know.

  “We haven’t heard anything about Peck yet.”

  “Well don’t you think
that’s a little weird?! What if Luca has them both?” Cris asked.

  “We’re looking for both of them.”

  “I mean, shit, at least Peck can defend himself. What about Alanna?! My head just keeps spinning and it’s making me sick! What the hell does he want with her?! Why her?!”

  “Honestly dude,” Charlie admitted. “I think that everything ties together. Damien’s trial. Peck ditching the game. I think everything is coming to a head and she is caught in the crosshairs.”

  Just then, the double doors of the emergency room opened as a tall, burly young man staggered into the hospital. He was shirtless, and clutching his shoulder with blood covering his chest, hand and arm. The young man looked up, with dirt caking his face, as he called for help in a desperate plea. Cris peered out the window of the triage room with horror in his eyes. Peck’s eyes met Cris’s and they exchanged an impassioned stare. A few nurses rushed down the hallway, running to Peck’s side. As the last of Peck’s energy was expelled, he moaned once more, “Help me. I’ve been shot.”

  With the color draining from his face, and his hand dropping to his side, Peck collapsed upon the lime-green linoleum floor of Methodist Hospital as medical personnel rushed to get him the help he so desperately needed.

  Cris's mind was spiraling dangerously off its axis. Peck, the guy who Cris viewed as unstoppable, had just collapsed before him with a bullet in his shoulder. Alanna, where is Alanna? Peck was shot trying to get her back. Is Alanna okay? Is Alanna alive? Oh, my God. Oh, my God. My mind. Save me from my mind. The room is spinning. The world is stopping. My heart is fracturing. Please, God. Just bring my baby home.

  Cris’s face fell into his hands as he became dizzy from the breakneck speed that the night’s events were coming at him. Silently, Cris began to pray. He prayed for Alanna. He prayed for Peck. He prayed for calm to settle the madness in his heart and the anguish in his mind. Charlie placed a supportive hand on Cris’s back in an attempt to console him. Then, peering out the window of the triage room, Charlie saw the very thing that was causing Cris to come undone. Medical staff had lifted Peck onto a hospital bed, lying him on his stomach so that his wound was quite visible from where Charlie and Tony were standing. Medical staff was scrambling around Peck as they rushed him off to an operating room.

  “Peck?!” Charlie called out loudly as he raced out of the triage room.

  Tony peered up with a nervous glint in his eyes. He followed Charlie out of the room, the rubber soles of his shoes screeching against the floor. Tony was wide-eyed as he peered at Peck lying atop the gurney.

  “Peck?! Is that you?!” Tony called. “What the hell happened?!”

  Peck wasn’t able to reply though as the team of medical personnel wheeled him away. As they rushed down the hallway, Tony’s eyes fell upon the gruesome quarter-inch hole that was drilled in Peck’s shoulder by the bullet. As Peck disappeared behind the double doors of Operating Room 3, Tony exchanged a sharp look with Charlie. As they let out shocked breaths, Tony pulled out his cell phone and dialed Torian’s digits.

  Torian sat at a traffic light at the corner of Memphis and Earle while he waited for the red light to turn green. His cellphone began to vibrate in his pocket. As Lev kept a keen eye on their surroundings, Torian answered his phone.

  “Talk to me,” Torian spat into the receiver.

  “Yo T, it’s Tony . . .”

  “What’s goin’ on?” Torian asked.

  “It’s Peck . . . They just rolled him into an OR . . . He was shot,” Tony explained in a steady voice.

  Torian’s breath hitched. “He was shot?! Where?! By who?!”

  He immediately turned the truck around, pulling a U-turn in the middle of Memphis Avenue. Tony could hear the tires screeching through the phone.

  “I’m assuming one of Luca’s guys. He was shot in the shoulder. They’ll probably dig it out and watch him. He’ll be alright.”

  “What about Alanna? Any news? Did you ask him if he caught up to them?”

  “He had passed out on the floor of the waiting room. As soon as I talk to him I’ll call you. Don’t turn that car around. You gotta keep lookin’,” Tony pressed. “You gotta keep looking for her. My brother’s mind is about to fucking snap.”

  Torian let out a deep sigh. “Keep me posted.”

  Pressing the end button on his phone, Torian dropped the phone into the cupholder beside him as he turned down a dark side street.

  “Anything?” Lev asked.

  “Nope. Luca must’ve tried taking him out but it didn’t work. One of Luca’s boys just plugged a hole in his shoulder,” Torian explained.

  Lev’s brow furrowed seriously as he shook his head. “God help them when he wakes up.”

  Torian laughed darkly, “Right? I’ll pray for them. Hell hath no fury like a man who hurts Peck’s Baby Girl.”

  Flashes. Terrible bright flashes crash before my eyes. Light bulbs pop and flashes shudder beyond my closed eyelids. I want to open them but I cannot. I feel a stranger’s grasp upon me. The chill of the air upon my skin. A set of voices laughing; they sound so far away. More flashes. The scent of a cigar’s smoke wafting under my nose. The metallic taste of blood on my tongue. A raspy voice speaks, and I recognize them immediately. I cannot understand what they are saying, though. Luca sounds like he is shouting at me from the bottom of a well. Every syllable echoes before it reaches me. Where am I?

  Then, my memories rush back at me, assaulting my mind. Paco with the needle. Me, shooting the gun, one, two, three, four times. Blood oozing from the gunshot wound in Paco’s forehead just before he collapsed. Shooting at Luca. Drawing blood, but not withdrawing life as I did with Paco. Luca ramming me with the speedball. Luca pressing Belladonna into my gums. Peck’s voice. Peck’s hold. The sound of running feet. The terrible rattle of Peck’s frantic breaths. Three shots go off in the night. Peck’s body falling atop mine like a ton of bricks. Get up, Peck. Get up like you always have. But he doesn’t. Though, I can’t move. Though, I can barely see. I can still feel. I feel everything. A scream rattles inside me desperate to be set free. A scream burns my lungs but my tongue will not sing my despair. Peck! Get up! Get up, Peck! Is he dead? Please don’t be dead. Be calm, Lana. Be calm. Listen. What do you hear? I urge myself. An approaching set of footsteps. The low hum of voices. The thrumming of Peck’s heart against my back. He’s alive. He’s alive! But he’s not moving. The footsteps got louder, so loud that it seemed to drown out all the rest of the sounds. Then silence. Complete, utter desolate silence as another needle pierced through the skin of my neck. Slowly, I slipped back into darkness.

  Hector arrived at the hospital just a few minutes past 2 A.M., insisting that Cris get the medical attention he needed. His face grimaced when he saw the look of anguish in his son’s eyes— it was almost enough to bring Hector to his knees.

  Placing his hand atop his son’s chest, Hector urged Cristobal, “Be strong. While you’re in surgery, I am going to be out there looking for her. We will find her.”

  Cris’s mind was reaching points of hysteria. “Like Delphina . . . What if it’s like what happened to Delphina. He’s a Kingpin . . . She’s alone. What to do . . . What can we do?”

  Hector closed his eyes as he understood the depths of his son’s despair. Then a cry ripped from Cris’s mouth, “This is my fault!”

  “No, child. This is Luca’s fault. You did nothing wrong. Neither did Alanna. Should she have been walking out there late at night? No, probably not. But the blame for all of this rests with one man . . . You are not that man, Cristobal. Be strong. We will find Alanna.”

  A moment later, Cris was wheeled away to Operating Room 4. Just one room over, Peck had woken up. As the doctors removed the bullet from his shoulder, Peck argued with them to patch him up and let him go.

  “It’s just my shoulder. Pop out the bullet and give me something for the pain. I have shit to do,” Peck spat through gritted teeth.

  “Son,” the one doctor said. “You need to let us do our j
ob.”

  “So do it, and let me be on my way,” Peck demanded in a raspy voice.

  “Timothy,” the one nurse said. “Who is your next of kin?”

  “No blood family,” Peck said.

  “Emergency contacts?”

  Peck sighed heavily. The answer was always Alanna. He put down her name and phone number on all vital documents as his person to call in the case of an emergency. But seeing as how the night was bleak and no one could get in touch with Alanna, Peck gave the nurse the next best thing.

  “Maude Anderson.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Caretaker.”

  “How can we reach her?”

  “She has enough worries. Don’t worry her with this. I’ll be fine.”

  “Son, we need to call someone.”

  Peck closed his eyes as a sigh rattled from his mouth. After a beat, he rattled off Maude’s phone number to the nurse.

  “Please tell her I’m alright. Don’t make her panic. She has enough going on.”

  Nodding in understanding, the nurse turned and exited the Operating Room with a clipboard in her hand.

  Maude paced the length of the living room, her bedroom slippers scraping against the worn shag rug. Detective Conrad was in the kitchen asking Nick some questions when the telephone began to ring loudly. Snapping her body around, Maude's eyes zoned to the rotary phone that rested upon her end table. The ring was alarming; abrupt and jarring, as if the person on the other end had an important message in which Maude absolutely needed to hear.

  Cutting across the room, Maude approached the phone with a determined look upon her face. Wrapping her fingers around the phone, she quickly lifted the receiver to her ear.

  “Hello?” Maude asked in a frantic voice.

  “Mrs. Anderson?” a nurse from the hospital asked in a calm but firm voice.

  “Yes?” Maude asked, her voice quaking with stress.

  “Hello Mrs. Anderson, my name is Caroline Devitt. I’m a registered nurse at Methodist Hospital. I am calling you regarding Timothy Peck. He listed you as his emergency contact.”