Dirty Thief

by Tia Louise

  “Should we call it?” Cal is in my ear, and I look at the beads on the windshield. “Nobody is coming in or out of this hotel tonight.”

  “Let’s watch until midnight,” I say, not entirely ready to give up. “If something were to happen, it would be on a night when no one is around.”

  We all go quiet again. “I moved under an awning,” André says, breaking the silence. “I still have visual on the back entrance, but the alley is blocked.”

  Anger burns in my chest. “Return to your original position at once,” I bark. “We can’t have a blind spot.”

  Sounds of movement are in our ears. “It was raining hard, and… Oh!” We all snap to attention. More sounds of movement, something like running comes over the wire.

  “André?” Cal says cautiously. “André, check in.”

  Still nothing, only sounds of… a struggle? My chest is tight, but we haven’t heard the noise of voices, a gunshot, or even fighting.

  Freddie is on the line now. “What’s happening out there?”

  I answer him. “What are you seeing, Freddie? We’ve lost contact with André.”

  “Subject is moving. His phone went out of range, but the bug is on. He left the hotel moving fast, but since it’s raining, he must be wearing his jacket.”

  My relief is short-lived when Cal reports back. “He didn’t come this way,” my brother says.

  “I didn’t see him,” I confirm. That means one thing. “One of us has to check on André. The other has to follow the bug.”

  “You go,” Cal says. “You’ve got the car, and I’m closer to where André went missing.”

  “Ten-four. Freddie, tell me where to go.” I’m putting the keys in the ignition when he stops me.

  “You’d probably do better on foot. He seems to be headed northeast on Princess Avenue. He’s working his way through pedestrian areas, so he must be on foot as well.”

  Pulling my cap down and the collar of my overcoat up, I’m out of the car and hitting the lock as I take off down the sidewalk. The streets are deserted, and the cobblestones glisten with the rain. The night smells like gasoline and metal. The few cafés that are still open have only a few patrons crowded around the bars. No one is looking out the windows or watching who might be chasing whom on a dark, rainy night.

  “You’re getting close to him. You might want to slow down and allow some space.”

  I glance up, side to side, down the alley, but I don’t see anyone on the streets near or around me. Still, I turn to face the wall and hunch my shoulders, pulling my collar up higher against the drizzle. A black cat trots by, and I step forward, straining my ears for footsteps and waiting for more information.

  “Where is he?” I breathe, barely moving my lips.

  “He should have just passed you… You don’t see him?” Freddie’s voice is laced with confusion. “Hang on… Wait… This doesn’t make any sense. His phone just lit up on the outskirts of town headed into the foothills near Pointe de la Veille!”

  Looking over my shoulder, I growl into the headpiece. “It was the fucking cat!” I’m running full speed back to the Mini I left at the curb.

  “What?” Cal breaks through. “What cat?”

  “A fucking cat. The bug must have somehow got wiped off or rubbed off by a cat. He wasn’t near me.” I’m at the car, jerking my keys out. “Freddie, pull him up on the satellite. I need to know what he’s driving. I’m headed that direction now.”

  The small car hums to life, and I wheel it onto the highway, putting the pedal down. “Where are you, Freddie?” I shout.

  “Just a few seconds… I’m trying to get a visual.”

  “I’m on the bike headed your way,” Cal says.

  “What about André?” I ask, and the young guard’s voice is suddenly with us.

  “He got past me. I tried to hold him, but he’s weirdly strong. He took off in a tan Fiat.”

  Finally useful, I can’t help thinking. “Good work, André. Stay at the hotel and let us know if he comes back. We’re following him.”

  “I’m having a hard time getting a satellite visual in this weather,” Freddie says. “His phone has gone out of range again, but the last time we had him, he was heading northeast on the Boulevard d’Italie. He’s somewhere near Pointe de la Veille.”

  “He’s headed toward Italy,” I say, and I hope we’re all thinking the same thing—the second victim was Italian. “Watch the border crossings. Let me know if his passport appears in their database.”

  “We’re flying blind here,” Cal says. “I’m going to pull out of the weather until we have more information.”

  “I’ll cut my speed as well,” I agree. “There are at least three bars between our last sighting and where I am now. Cal, do a pub crawl. Freddie, keep your eyes on the screen and let us know the moment he appears.”

  “Roger,” Freddie says.

  My stomach is tight, and I’m afraid we’ve lost him. This is the worst-case scenario. Our bug has fallen loose, and our vision has gone dark. All we can do is wait and hope when we do find him, it’s not too late.

  Chapter 26

  Ava

  The clouds have grown thicker, hiding the moon, and it’s raining when I quietly roll my Vespa out of the garage. It’s nine forty-five, and I’ve done my best to slip past each of the solemn guards stationed around the gated courtyard.

  I’m wearing black boots and a black, belted trench coat over my dress, but my head is uncovered. I take the patterned scarf from around my neck and fold it in a triangle to put over my hair. It makes me look like someone out of an old movie. Zelda would appreciate this, I think to myself in a poor attempt to calm my nerves.

  The small gun is in the pocket of my coat, and it rests heavy against my thigh. I can do this. I’ve been in worse situations. I’ve been present when a man was killed, stabbed with a knife. I can do this.

  I’m through the final gate, passing the round, concrete posts that serve as barriers on the circle drive in front of the palace. It’s the first hurdle of my journey cleared, but I’m not able to relax. I’ve only just begun.

  Kicking my scooter to life, I lean forward against the rain, blinking fast as drops of salty water hit me on the cheeks like tiny pellets. The only good thing about the rain is the streets are clear. I’m not dodging pedestrians or even worrying about paparazzi. It’s as if the whole city has decided tonight is the night to stay inside.

  Still, I stop at every streetlight. Every quiet moment, I can feel the beating of my heart. Fear-laced adrenaline circulates through my bloodstream, but I won’t turn back. I think of Ramona’s solemn face. I think of her strangled and lying in that seedy apartment dead for days as vagrants sifted through her trash out front. I think of Grace and her determination in spite of everything.

  Traveling backwards in my mind, I conjure the memory of me as a little girl. I remember the feelings of lying in that bed paralyzed as Dwayne Vega put his sweaty, fleshy palms on my small legs. I remember my breath leaving my lungs and how hard I struggled to stay out of my body, to go to that safe place in my mind.

  All these memories keep me going on the slick, rainy streets, the smell of rain in my nose, but the one image that solidifies my resolve is my sister, the person who would never back down. I remember her smashing that lamp over Dwayne’s head and taking my hand, running us out of there. We never stopped.

  We’re stopping now.

  * * *

  Pointe de la Veille is a tiny peninsula at the very back of a small park on the northwestern most corner of Monagasco. It’s one of the only public parks in our small nation, and as such, it’s closed at night. However, it’s not gated, so I drive my bike past the empty guard shack into the tall trees.

  The canopy of green blocks the rain, but it also increases the darkness. Any speed I would have been able to gain is reduced by the need to be more cautious. I’m surrounded by the heavy scent of trees and moldering wood. The roof of the round pavilion on a high point overlooking the sea emer
ges in the night, and I slow my speed as I approach our meeting place.

  A small car is parked along the side of the black asphalt road. I continue past it, steering my bike so it’s around the back of the wooden structure, hidden in the trees. The noise of a gunshot will be loud, and I want to be concealed in case anyone else is out here tonight.

  For a moment I sit on the bike, eyes closed, breathing deep. Ice filters through my chest, and the muscles in my arms feel jangly. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to pray before killing someone… I decide this is justice, and I think of ancient kings going into battle. I think of knights facing dragons. If Dwayne Vega isn’t a modern-day dragon, I don’t know what he is.

  Fire and ice… I go back to that tiny bedroom in Florida. I think I know enough of hate…

  Stepping away from my bike, my boots make a swishing noise on the wet leaves beneath my feet. I follow the path out of the trees to the round building where my task awaits. Reaching up, I slide the wet scarf off my head. It didn’t keep my hair dry, and I shove it deep into my pocket. It’s a warm night, so I loosen the belt on my coat. I slip my trembling hand between the layers of fabric and press the button to turn off the safety on the small revolver hidden there.

  I’ve arrived at the front of the building. Concrete steps lead up to an open-air doorway. The pavilion is open to the night, but it’s dark. When I reach the top of the steps, I wait. My pulse races beneath my skin, and I strain my eyes for any sign of his body. A small flame flashes orange across the space from me, and as it rises to light a cigarette, I see the face from my nightmares. The pale, doughy face, the watery, brown eyes that always made me think of raw eggs. He smiles, and my throat tightens.

  “Beautiful Ava.”

  “Dwayne,” I say, feeling the dormant hatred and rage smoldering to life in my chest.

  He slowly begins walking toward me. His shoes scuff against the concrete floor. “The most beautiful one…”

  “You wanted to see me again.”

  “I’ve dreamed of this night.” He’s closer now, close enough that I can smell the familiar stench of stale whiskey. If the light were better, I could see the tobacco stains on his teeth.

  “What did you dream about this night?” I ask.

  My goal is to have him confess. I want him to tell me he killed Ramona and Grace. I want to know if he is the man behind the recent crimes. But I have to lead him to that truth. He won’t confess right away.

  “So many things…” Reaching out, he touches my arm, and I’m thankful for the coat protecting my skin from his hand. “You were the only one I loved.” He sighs as if remembering something. “Your sweetness shined in your eyes, your smile…”

  And you tried to destroy it. “I’m not as sweet anymore,” I say, but he shakes his head.

  “Oh, but you are. I’ve read every story… You are helping orphans now—just like I did.”

  My stomach turns at the suggestion. “It’s a little different from what you did.”

  His eyes flash, and I pull my lip between my teeth. My tone was too sharp, and I know if I don’t play his game, I’ll lose him. I’ll never get the truth I need.

  Swallowing the bile, I change my voice. “I only meant you were selfless. You gave us your home and your love. I only house them and ask for donations.”

  His expression returns to fascination. “Yes! That’s what I said. I loved you all. I treated all of you like you were my own.”

  My stomach is in knots, but I press on. “Emily… Grace…” I pause, waiting to see how her name will affect him. “Ramona…”

  A line pierces his brow. “They were different. They didn’t see things the way you do. They didn’t understand.”

  My heart beats faster. “Why do you think that?”

  “They weren’t grateful. They said bad things. They called me bad names…” His voice is changing to something I’ve never heard. It’s higher, slightly crazed. “Like this man… this king who is trying to keep you away from me.”

  Rowan.

  I have to keep him talking. “No one can keep me away from you,” I say, as if I’m soothing a crying child.

  “I only want to love you,” he whines like a pig.

  “You only ever loved me,” I agree. The taste of acid is on my tongue. “Tell me… tell me about Ramona. What did she say?”

  “She didn’t say anything. I wouldn’t let her say those things anymore.”

  The thought of him strangling her for speaking the truth sends emotions racing through my body I hadn’t prepared for. They overwhelm me. I can’t talk to him anymore. I can’t take his smell and his sound. I can’t listen to his pig voice speaking lies. I’ve heard enough. I want him gone. I want him dead.

  My eyes close, and I reach into my pocket. My fingers close around the cool metal that will give me peace, and I whip it out of my pocket. Pulling the trigger, the gun blasts three times before meaty hands wrap around mine. I’m shoved so hard to the floor, I slide across the smooth concrete. Pain ricochets through my hip, and a strangled cry breaks from my throat.

  “What have you done?” he whines in his pig voice.

  Pushing against the floor, I sit up to see he isn’t dead. His arm is bleeding, but it appears that’s the only shot that hit him. Tears flood my eyes. I’m so stupid. I failed, and now he’s going to kill me.

  “You tried to hurt me when all I want to do is love you!” He starts to pace, walking back and forth in front of me like a caged lion.

  “You killed Ramona… you killed Grace. Admit it!” I might as well get my truth.

  “Killed?” He lifts the gun, scrubbing it against his forehead. “What does that word even mean? There is no death. There’s only the next level in the game.”

  My chin drops. My hip is throbbing, and I allow the sobs to wrack me. “You’re insane. You killed all of them. You raped and murdered those women…”

  He charges to where I’m sitting and drops to his knees. I try to scramble back, but he grabs my face and forces me to look at him. “I loved those women!” he screams at me. “They only wanted money just like all of you!”

  I’m trembling, and my cheeks are slick with tears. “So you murdered them.”

  “I set them free.”

  He shoves me away and returns to pacing, looking at the gun. He’s mumbling to himself, rubbing his forehead and repeating words over and over.

  He stops and faces me again. “I wanted you. I wanted to keep you. You were supposed to be mine. Now I have to set you free.”

  Tears keep streaming down my cheeks, but I’m not crying. I’m trying to think of a way out of this. I didn’t plan for failure, and now all I can think about is survival. I have to make it out of this. He can’t win.

  Keeping my voice level, not attacking, I try to find an answer, a way to get the gun back. “What would you do if we were together?”

  “No… no no no.” He shakes his head. “It’s all spoiled now. I can’t have you. You want to hurt me just like they did.”

  “I understand you…” My voice cracks, and I rack my brain, trying to follow his twisted logic. “You came to me wanting money. I thought you had to go to the next level.”

  His movements still. He lowers the gun and stares at me several long moments. I concentrate on smoothing my expression, making my eyes round, looking up at him as if I were still a child.

  “You did?” He speaks in childish voice.

  “Yes!” Oh God, it might be working… “You only wanted money. I didn’t know you really loved me. I understand now.”

  He exhales, and his face crumbles as he starts to cry. “My beautiful Ava!” Dropping to his knees in front of me, he puts both hands on my shoulders. “I knew it was you. You were always the one.”

  I’m pulled into a hug, and acrid body odor surrounds me. Breathing through my mouth, I count slowly to ten before I carefully say the words. “Put down the gun. I want you to love me again.”

  His hands move down my body, and I hear the rattle of metal hitting conc
rete.

  Chapter 27

  Rowan

  Circling the streets of Monagasco in the dark rain searching for a madman is a form of torture I’ve never experienced. We wait for a break in the clouds or any sign that Vega is still on the move and not somewhere in an alley or on the beach committing a crime.

  My eyes go to the clock, and I see it’s ten. “Anything? Cal? Freddie? André?”

  “He’s not here,” André answers.

  Cal is next. “I’m walking into Café Steele. It’s the third bar I’ve checked, and still nothing.”

  I wait for Freddie’s report. “I’m getting something… I started checking the historical images on the traffic cameras around the area where we lost him.”

  I sit forward in my seat gripping the wheel. “What have you found?”

  “Nothing much, but there hasn’t been much traffic tonight. The closest I got is a vehicle turning off the road at the Parc Veille a half hour ago.”

  The muscle in my jaw clenches, and I think about this. “The Parc Veille?”

  “It’s the most I’ve been able to find.”

  Turning the Mini, I figure I don’t have anything else to do while we wait. The small park isn’t far from where I stopped, and it’s closed after dark. As I get closer, I see the entrance isn’t gated. The guard shed is empty, and I’m able to drive through without any impediments. The realization unfolds slowly in my stomach.

  “Freddie, is there wireless service in Parc Veille?”

  “No,” he answers quickly. “And with the tree coverage, I can’t get a good image of the peninsula.”

  My foot presses harder on the accelerator. “Cal, I need you here.”

  “On my way, brother.”

  I follow the damp asphalt pavement leading through the tall trees. The rain has ended, but the cloud cover keeps it dark. Straining my eyes into the woods, I can’t see more than a few feet before it’s total blackness. He could be anywhere in there.