by Lisa G Riley
Before Cap could get completely out of the car, Brian had covered the brief distance of the sidewalk to the house, and was up on the porch before the other man had even made his way around the car and to the sidewalk. Brian heard him hurrying to catch up with him. “This is all off, Cap,” he yelled over his shoulder as he rang the bell. “Way off.”
Beside him now, Cap agreed. “Yes. I feel it too.”
“What did Rose sound like when you spoke to her to arrange our meeting?” Brian asked. “Was she nervous at all?” He’d wanted to call her himself, but had been advised not to. He put his finger on the bell and left it there, and could hear the sound of it reverberating inside the house.
“No, not nervous,” Cap said as he opened the screen door. “She sounded more resigned than anything.” He pulled out his baton and began hitting it against the door. “Police,” he yelled, “Open up!”
Brian was bending in front of the window, trying to see through a break in the curtains. He scowled and hurriedly moved to the other side of the porch to try his luck with the second window. The break between the two panels here was a little wider and he tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness inside. Frustrated because he saw nothing but shapes and shadows, he called, “Yo, Cap! Let’s see your Maglite.”
Captain Thompson had stopped knocking by now, and he released the screen door to walk over to Brian. “Maglite’s charging,” he said, his hands going to a pouch on his duty belt. He pulled out a black flashlight with a slim neck and somewhat large head. “This will have to do,” he said and gave Brian a friendly shove. “Step aside, son.”
Brian only moved enough to look over the other man’s shoulder. The light from the LED bulb was especially bright and they could see well into the room. Brian saw that nothing much about the living room had changed since he’d last been there as an invited guest. Cap was moving the light in concentric circles around the room, and Brian’s gaze followed wherever the light landed. And he could tell by the way the light wavered that Cap and he saw them at the same time: a pair of slim ankles ending in black flats and sticking out from behind a high-backed sofa.
BRIAN stood with Jack at the curb in front of Rose’s house. He’d called his friend to update him after Cap and he had broken down the door and found Rose’s body. She’d had a single bullet hole in the middle of her head, which indicated a professional hit. Cap had called for back-up before they’d gone in and now the entire block was blazing with red and blue lights from emergency response and police vehicles. Arms folded and leaning against Jack’s car, Brian and Jack watched the action in and around the house.
“So the police are thinking that she either talked to her sister on the phone about your meeting or that the place is bugged, correct?” Jack asked.
“Right. They’ve got technicians in there now checking for devices.”
“What are your thoughts?”
Feeling angry and sad, Brian found that he was barely able to shrug his shoulders, or drum up much interest for speculation. “I don’t have any.”
“How did Caroline take it?”
“I called her a few minutes before you got here, and she’s upset about the murder, of course.”
Jack turned and looked at him. “I know this turned out to be a huge disappointment, but on the way over here I thought of another way we might be able to get in the game.”
Brian felt not a flicker of interest, but lifted a brow and then turned to open the passenger door on Jack’s car. “Tell me on the way to my house. I need my wife.”
BRIAN took a last look around the bathroom to make sure he hadn’t left any wet towels lying around, turned off the light and walked into his bedroom. Caroline was sleeping soundly and he was quiet as he approached the bed. Guilt and sadness overwhelmed him and getting in behind Caroline, he pulled her back into his arms so that he was spooning her body. Mumbling in her sleep, she automatically adjusted her body to his and was soon sleeping soundly again. He took in her scent, stroked her soft skin and used her as balm for his troubled soul.
His eyes wide open in the pitch darkness of the room; he allowed the image of Rose’s dead body and sightless eyes to flash into his head, and in his pain, gripped Caroline closer to him for comfort and buried his face in her hair.
Her subconscious recognizing that something was terribly wrong, Caroline awoke in increments. Her mind cleared more quickly than usual as she swam towards consciousness and she frowned worriedly as she got her bearings. “Brian?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer, only squeezed her tighter and began to shake. Alarmed, Caroline turned in his arms to face him. When he dropped his head to her chest, she rubbed it soothingly. “What’s the matter, baby?”
“She wouldn’t be dead if I hadn’t come up with the brilliant idea to talk to her. Oh, fuck!” he moaned, his voice filled with guilt and rage.
Caroline slid her hand under his chin and lifted his face to hers. “Hush, darling,” she whispered between gentle kisses to his cheeks. “It’s not your fault.”
“Aw, damn, Caroline,” he said agonizingly. “I might just as well have shot her myself.”
She continued to speak in low, soothing tones, though there now was a firmness that hadn’t been there before. “That isn’t true, and you know it. Brickman and the man who actually shot Rose Patterson are the ones responsible for her murder, not you. You were only doing what you could to protect your family. It was a reasonable move that anyone would make. You weren’t the one to pull the trigger, so stop this. It’s Brickman we have to blame, so you take this latest monstrous act and add it to his tally. It will make it that much more satisfying when we finally catch the bastard.”
She pulled his head down to rest on her shoulder and began stroking his hair, her heart clinching in pain and sympathy at his continued silence. “This has nothing to do with what happened tonight, but I want you to know that you are the most extraordinary man I know, and what makes you so incredibly amazing is this bottomless well of love you have for those you care about, including me. Sometimes I look in your eyes and I’m simply awed at the love I see there just for me. It…” she paused because just thinking about what she had in him overwhelmed her with emotion and made her voice break as she continued, “It humbles me completely and makes me weak in the knees. I wake up every morning happy that you’re in my life; thrilled that you chose me and we chose each other, and knowing that I must have done something really right to be lucky enough to be able to say that you’re mine.”
He tightened his arms around her waist even more, and she rested her cheek on his head, continued to stroke. “I know, darling; I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
Chapter Seven
Brickman tossed a set of keys on the catch-all table near the front door and continued down a short hallway that lead to the living area of the small Ranch-style house he’d been forced to hunker down in on the northwest side of Chicago. Avoiding capture meant staying under the radar and that precluded living lavishly, as was his usual custom. He sighed forlornly. So, no, he couldn’t scoop up a penthouse apartment on Lake Shore Drive for the short time he planned to be in the city. It also meant that he couldn’t allow some do-gooder to throw a wrench in his plans by doing what she saw as her moral duty by telling the police what she knew.
He sat on the sofa and tried to relax with the glass of wine one of his men had set up for him. He leaned back against the cushions and congratulated himself on his genius. He’d left the bugs in Rose Patterson’s house instead of having them removed when he’d left town two years before. He smiled with satisfaction and mumbled, “Bravo, Alex, bravo,” conveniently forgetting that he’d been on the run before he even left town, and that even if he’d been able to afford to give those bugs a first, let alone a second thought, he hadn’t had time to dismantle them.
One of the two men he’d positioned in Chicago had called him as soon as they’d heard Rose talking on the phone to the CPD. She’d said she had some information to share, though she didn’t think it would help
them much. Well, of course he couldn’t let that happen and had dispatched her killer posthaste.
His only concern now was Ida. She’d been contacting her sister all along. Oh, she’d sworn that it had only been this one time because she wanted to share the news of her pregnancy, but he knew better than to trust information given under extreme torture, which of course he’d had to administer to Ida. She’d also denied having any contact with her parents. She could very well be telling the truth, he thought as he crossed his legs and made himself more comfortable on the sofa, only time would tell. He was having the calls she’d made from her cell phone backtracked. In the meantime, he was now satisfied that she wouldn’t be sharing information regarding him with anyone ever again.
IDA lay motionless in the dark, afraid to move for fear she’d set ripples of severe pain in motion across her body. She thought about Brickman’s latest beating and the reason he’d meted it out, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “Rose,” she whispered miserably, knowing without having been told that her sister was dead. “I’m so sorry.” When she’d mailed her the letter, it really had been the one and only time she’d contacted anyone since she’d been on the run with Brickman. She’d only wanted to share the news of her pregnancy with someone, and in the letter she’d begged Rose not to tell their parents. She’d tried to explain to Brickman that Rose knew nothing except about the pregnancy, though of course she now realized that the postmark would have given away her location. That information was probably what Rose would have given the police and Brian.
Brickman would not listen to her, but she thought he hadn’t even heard her. He’d been so busy screaming his fury as he’d beaten her. He’d completely lost his sanity and the one name he’d repeated over and over again was Brian’s, making her realize that not only was he obsessed with Caroline, but he had an unhealthy jealousy of Brian.
Her thoughts tortured, Ida cried some more. Her parents would be devastated. Thanks to her they’d lost both of their daughters. She herself could never go home again, unless Brickman were killed or caught and both of those things seemed increasingly unlikely. He’d been like an unholy siege this time when he’d punished her. Using a long, thin, sturdy stick made of cane, he’d battered her everywhere except her stomach, torso and back. He’d even harkened back to one of his favorites: striking the bottoms of her feet with a small baton, so now she was hobbled for at least the next…she did an internal assessment and based on past experiences estimated two days. She’d have to stay off her feet for at least two days.
She heard the door open and before she could help herself, whimpered in fear. Her back was to the door, so she had no idea who it was and prayed that it wasn’t Brickman.
“Hello, Ms. Ida,” she heard a familiar voice say. “Mr. Brickman says that you must eat something to keep up your strength for your baby.”
Ida heard him approach the bed. “I’ve brought you a turkey sandwich, vegetable soup and low-fat milk. The boss says I should also dress your wounds -- shit!”
Her caregiver had placed his load on the bedside table and then turned on the light. She heard the shock in his voice when he finally got a good look at her, and going by experience, knew anger would soon follow. She forced herself to move, each inch making her body scream in pain. She quickly shook her head and mouthed the words, Don’t, Ivan! You need to stay calm, she continued and looked at him with her one good eye. The other one had been swollen shut with one punch of Brickman’s fist. It had been the final blow and had completely felled her. She’d fallen unconscious across the very bed she lay in now.
Ivan could sometimes be brutish, was ten years younger than she, one of Brickman’s best soldiers and he loved her. And she loved him. They hadn’t planned it, of course, and they were both terrified of what would happen if Brickman found out, but they couldn’t help themselves. He was always the one Brickman sent to take care of her after he’d doled out one of his punishments. They’d begun to talk and in the midst of all the pain and fear, they’d found one another. She carried his child. She didn’t dare tell Ivan because then he’d want to either kill Brickman, or run away. He’d already brought up doing one or the other on several occasions. She believed the success of either was an impossibility, but Ivan was an idealist and still believed in his dreams, and in hope. She was constantly having to keep him grounded in reality -- their reality, an outrageously dangerous actuality by anyone’s standards.
They could neither talk nor make love anywhere inside any of Brickman’s homes, but they’d managed both and shared an intimacy that she’d never in her life shared with anyone. She looked at him after he’d gently brushed the hair back from her face and found herself arrested by the tears rolling down his cheeks. He was brutish, but he’d never been anything but careful with her. She was a small woman and could always sense when big men were extra careful in their handling of her. Ivan had been like that from the first.
“Can you sit up?” he asked softly.
Ida nodded weakly. “If you’ll adjust the pillows so I can lean against them, I should be fine.”
He did and after a few minutes of her trying to bite back her cries of pain, she was sitting up with her back against a stack of five pillows. He began to feed her the soup. “How bad is it?”
“Pretty bad,” she reluctantly admitted between swallows. She could see the rage in his eyes, and while she was gratified by it, she knew they couldn’t afford it. I’m going to be okay, Ivan, she mouthed and tried a smile. You’ll see.
That’s not the point, he insisted, mouthing each word angrily. I hate the fact that you’re hurt at all.
I know, sweetie, I know, but we’ll get through it. You’ll see.
Ivan nodded, but she could tell that the conversation was not over, that he had determined that they would be discussing it later. He sighed, fed her another spoonful of soup and mouthed, He says we’re going to Keenan’s house in a few days. Says he should be getting some crucial information in soon that will help us prepare and have surprise on our side.
Ida frowned, but said nothing. It was a bad idea, she knew, but there was nothing she could do about it. Brickman had already made up his mind.
***
ARLINGTON, Virginia
Coop sat at one end of the long mahogany conference table and from beneath his lashes, studied the other people in the room. Idiots, all of them, he thought impatiently. They sat around arguing about the insignificant things while giving the major events the short shrift. It was infuriating. He looked over at his boss who looked just as disgusted as he. Ben nodded slightly and Coop took that as his cue to take over the meeting. Raising his voice, he spoke loud enough to drown out the petty squabbling.
“I need to know what you have decided to do about the new information regarding Alexander Brickman,” he demanded of the other four people in the room, all of whom ran a division in the agency.
When the squabbling began again, he impatiently slapped his hand on the table. “It’s not a difficult decision to make: either we share the information we have with our counterparts who have been after the man for years, or we keep it to ourselves. Pete,” he directed his comments to the DEA representative, “your agency has wanted him for years. What do you think? Do we tell your people in Mexico and Chicago where he’s headed, or not?”
An older, white-haired almost irascible character, Peter Tam nodded his head. Coop had always liked the other man. Unlike most people in their world, he didn’t obfuscate and he made up his mind quickly. “I hate to say this, but I think we should keep them and the local FBI office in the dark. Yes, we’ve wanted Brickman for years, but the Guerreras are much bigger fish and they tortured and murdered a DEA agent. I don’t want to risk tipping them off about Paragon by going after Brickman. Of course, I’m sure the FBI wouldn’t agree with me.”
Coop knew that this was exactly why they hadn’t invited the FBI representative to the meeting. He spoke up, “No one’s asked me, but I think we should inform the agents in Chicago and Mexico
about Brickman’s impeding arrival to the Guerrera compound. Keeping secrets from one another has gotten this country in hot fixes in the past. And I’m going to say that I do not like the fact that we’ve kept Cam out of this meeting.”
“Yes, it is unfortunate that we’ve so quickly reverted back to our old ways when this agency was created expressly to keep mistakes of the past from reoccurring,” Ben put in. “However, I can see the need to keep the FBI out of this meeting as I agree that we should keep mum on this new information regarding Mr. Brickman.”
Coop was not surprised at Ben’s decision as his primary goal was to keep his agent safe. He wanted Paragon safe as well, but the difference was he knew she would handle herself if something flared up and he planned to travel to Mexico himself, regardless of Ben’s objections. He did not like that they were keeping this information to themselves; they were all on the same team after all, and as a former field agent he knew how much this kind of information would have meant to him on a case he’d been working on for months, let alone, years.
“I suppose you’re looking at this from the agent’s perspective, aren’t you, Cooper?”
The question was put snidely and came from Osborne Howard, a man who Coop had little respect for and whom he’d always thought of as an officious, whiny, little pissant. He didn’t bother to answer him, instead addressing his comments to the room at large. “Are you all agreed that we should not share the information?”
A chorus of yeses was the response, and Coop stood. “All right, then I guess we’re done here. He gathered his folder and pad of paper, and left the room. “Idiots,” he muttered, “blind, short-sighted idiots.”
“Cooper!”
Coop turned to see Ben hurrying behind him. He stopped to allow the older man to catch up. “Yes?”
“I know you’re upset because things didn’t go your way back in there, but do try to see our side of things.”
