by J. R. Tate
Mikey looked out into the yard, his brain going a thousand miles per hour. "It's not necessarily a bad thing."
"What do you mean? Now he's gonna be even more careful."
He glanced at Casey from the corner of his eye. "Now he knows that we know what he's up to. He knows we're watching his every move. He's gonna feel panicked."
"Which proves what I just said. He's gonna be even more careful to cover his tracks. We've got nothing on him, Mikey."
"I'm glad he knows. That son of a bitch was probably strutting around thinking I was completely helpless and clueless. Now he knows I'm not gonna go down without a fight."
"What are we gonna do? We can't follow him again. And we don't know when he'll do the next torch job."
Folding his arms over his chest, Michael watched two boys ride their bikes down the street, both laughing and just being kids. It reminded him of his childhood.
"I could go to the detectives and tell them. Get to them before it happens. Maybe it'd be enough for them to go question Gregg." Who was he kidding? He was named the main suspect. The cop's trust in him was about as solid as his trust was in Gregg. He didn't know of anything else he could do. It was a Hail Mary pass late in the fourth quarter and he was trailing by a touchdown.
Casey looked doubtful. "It's about the only thing you have left to do. We just have to hope that your word is enough to raise enough suspicion to make them want to do it."
Michael couldn't sit still. The longer he waited, the chances were greater that Gregg would solidify the evidence against him. It was after eight PM. Would the detectives working the case be at the station? He didn't want to sit around and twiddle his thumbs. Even if they weren't, he would hope someone there could contact them.
"I'm gonna head down there."
"Now? It's late. You sure it's a good idea?"
"I'm not sure of anything right now, Casey." He looked out onto the street. "We've pretty much concluded that Gregg is gonna strike again. I can't just sit by while he fucks up my future worse than he already has."
"Let me come with you."
Shaking his head, Michael stepped off of the porch. "No. Stay here. Make sure mom is okay. I'm just gonna make a quick trip down there. I'll have my phone. Keep yours nearby. We'll be in touch."
He pulled his hat bill low and kept his face ducked. It was dark outside and the night air was cold. He wasn't sure why, but felt like leaving Casey and his mother behind meant he wouldn't see them for awhile. On the subway he tried to avoid eye contact with people. Again, he had to wonder if it was his imagination or if people recognized him from the news. When he had heard of crimes on TV or in the newspaper, he didn't really pay much attention to the people around him. Maybe it was true for others.
He got off of the train a few stops before he needed to. He felt claustrophobic and needed a walk to clear his mind and ease the tension. He had to think up what he was going to say to the detectives. Would admitting that Casey had followed Gregg implicate him? It wasn't a crime unless stalking could be proven. With the way things were going, Michael was hesitant to admit anything. They were turning everything against him.
Pausing on the sidewalk outside of the building, he watched as cops hustled in and out, some with people in handcuffs, others in a hurry to hop in their cruisers and head out on patrol. Michael buried his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. Hopefully Detective Vasquez and Detective Reynolds would be there. They hadn't been much help to him, but he wanted to speak with the people who were most familiar with the case.
Walking in, he waited his turn in line. The front desk sergeant smirked as Michael came up, almost as if she remembered him.
"What do you need, sir?"
"I need to speak with Detective Reynolds and Detective Vasquez." He felt his phone buzz in his pocket but ignored it.
"They aren't in right now. You'll have to come back."
"No, I can't. Is there any way you can call them or something? This is really important."
She flashed a sarcastic smile. "You know how many times I hear that a day? Sir, you'll have to come back. They are out on a call right now and I can't just call them back to the station for every person who thinks they need to talk to them."
He wanted to plead his case. He wanted to scream out that he was innocent, that he knew exactly who the arsonist was, but his voice wouldn't work. Before he could suggest talking to someone else, the next person in line shoved through and he found himself at the back of the line again. He was in such a daze that he didn't even fight for his spot.
Looking down at his phone, he saw a text message from Eva. "Call me" was all it said. He was just a few blocks from the apartment, so rather than call, he decided to stop by. It was probably the last thing she'd want, but he had to see her. She always knew what to do.
Pushing out of the door, he quickened his pace down the street. Hopefully Gregg would hold off on whatever plan he had for another night. At least long enough for him to contact the people he needed to. He punched in the code for the apartment and made his way up the flight of stairs. She had the chain latched, hindering his attempt at going in.
Her hazel eyes peered through the other side. She looked like she had been crying. "Mikey?"
"I know you said to call, but I wanted to see you."
She closed the door and unlatched the chain. Stepping aside, she allowed him to come in. It had only been a few days and he missed everything about their home. He missed everything about her. He cupped the side of her face and ran his thumb down her cheek, wiping away the moisture on her skin.
"Mikey... I... I'm so sorry for how this is happening."
"Me too."
"You staying with your mom?"
He shook his head yes. "Casey is in town."
"Really?"
"Yeah. He wanted to come up and help me."
Eva leaned in to his touch. Closing her eyes, she let out a low murmur as Michael's hand trailed down her neck and rested on her shoulder. Leaning in, he lightly kissed her, savoring her taste. He was surprised when she pulled him closer and leaned back against the wall, wrapping her leg around his waist. Their kiss grew more passionate and he was unable to control his hands. They moved down her side and rested on her belt.
"Damn, I've missed you..." he whispered, feeling her stomach.
His phone rang, pulling their attention off of each other. "Speak of the devil, it's Casey." Pulling away from her, he almost ignored the call, but figured with everything happening, it was best to keep in touch.
"Hello?"
"Hey, man. You need to get away from the police station. Now. Get out of there."
Glancing at Eva, he tried to keep calm. "Why? What's going on?"
"It's all over the news, Mikey. Another arson. Gregg did exactly what we thought he'd do. Your face is all over the TV. They're talking about how you're out on bail but now are wanted. The police are looking for you."
"I'm not there. I'm at my apartment." He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. His mug shot was plastered right there with a caption that said everything Casey had just explained. "Son of a bitch..." he said, feeling as if the walls around him and toppled on top of him.
"What are you gonna do, man?"
"I'm uhh..." Michael didn't even realize that Eva was standing beside him, watching the news story play out. "I can't get caught. I can't get locked up. I've gotta find Gregg and prove my innocence."
"I'm your witness. I saw him with the gas can."
"No offense, Casey, but your word won't do anything for me. You're family, and have a record. You're a known drug addict with the police." Michael hung the phone up. He didn't have time to stand around and chat. Like Casey had asked, what in the hell was he going to do?
"You can't run, Mikey. It'll make you look guilty."
"I already look guilty as sin. Getting put back in a cell will only mean I can't do anything."
Eva began to cry. Turning away, her body quivered. "You're gonna get caught. Running will just add on to
everything you have against you."
"I'm gonna get to the bottom of this before they can catch me." Pulling her in for a tight hug, he took in her scent and everything about her. "I gotta get going. This is the first place they're gonna look." Kissing her one last time, he pulled away. "I was never here. You never saw me."
Eva nodded and walked him to the door. "I love you, Mikey."
"I love you too. I'll see you soon. This will be over soon." It felt like a lie. This wasn't even close to being over.
He took the stairs down two at a time, his gut screaming at him that the police were just around the corner, ready to barge in and catch him. Rather than stay on the street, he took a detour through the back alley. Where would the police look first? He had never been a fugitive. He had no idea where they would go. His ribs ached and his head pounded. Damn, his injuries were slowing him down.
He tried to keep his pace steady. If he broke out in a full sprint it would be obvious. How many joggers were out this late, in dark clothing? It didn't matter. He felt he looked suspicious regardless of how he carried himself. Walking down an alley didn't help either. As he got close to the street, a squad car sped past, lights flashing. Was that in relation to him? Tons of crimes were committed in this city. They could've been after anyone.
Burying his hands in his hoodie pocket, he shivered. The night air was getting colder, and if he remembered correctly, the weather from earlier had mentioned that the lows would fall into the thirties. The thin fabric of the sweater wouldn't be strong against the temperature. Where was he going to go? Should he go straight to Gregg or would his apartment be crawling with police too?
It was worth a shot to see. The hard part would be getting there without someone spotting him. At least the dark night was on his side. As he walked, he did like before - avoiding eye contact and keeping his hat bill pulled down. It was good that he had passed on wearing his FDNY things and was now sporting the Mets logo. It wasn't out of the ordinary. Tons of New Yorkers did it.
Another police cruiser passed but didn't have lights or sirens going. Were there more out than normal? Michael couldn't say for sure. It wasn't something he normally paid attention to.
Turning the corner, he saw Gregg's apartment complex down the block. Just like he had thought, there were three cop cars parked out front. There would be no chance of him getting to him at that moment. He would have to tough out the night somewhere and hope that they would take their interest off of the true criminal.
One way to get through the night quickly was chasing his troubles down with some whiskey. There were bars left and right, but rather than stopping and looking in like a lost puppy, Michael just kept walking, pushing through any urge he felt. He had to be sober. He couldn't get through this hung-over. His body ached, his eyes felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was find a warm place to stay. He hated the fact that every step he took he had to look over his shoulder. This was no way to live. If it meant staying free to build his case in his favor, he had to stay strong and do it.
After another hour of walking, he found himself at one of the entrances to a park. Several homeless people were crowded around a fire they had built in a trash can. Did the cops patrol this area much? It wouldn't be out of the ordinary seeing a man asleep on a park bench or against a tree, as it looked to be normal this time of night.
Nodding the groups way, he declined their offer to join them for some of the warmth. He didn't want to risk a chance of one of them recognizing him. Homeless people read newspapers. They knew more out on the street than most. Instead, Michael found a grove of trees that looked pretty guarded. It would take a lot for someone to spot him.
Sliding to the ground, he rested his head against the trunk of one of the trees. The view of the night sky was covered by the branches and what leaves remained on the tree. Not like the stars would be viewable. With the thick smog and lights from the city, it had been a long time since Michael had seen just a small cascade of them. It was nothing like the Texas sky.
Sleep would be hard to come by, but he knew he had to rest. He had to ease his mind long enough to recuperate. He wrapped his arms around his midsection and curled his knees up to his chest, trying hard to ignore the pain from his injured body. At least his cove served as a good wind break from the wind. Shivering, he ducked his head and closed his eyes. His lids stung from sleep deprivation. Rather than shutting his mind down, it ran a mile a minute and he was left alone with his thoughts.
The main thing he worried about was getting himself out of this. How in the hell was he going to pull it off?
***
Eva was expecting the knock on the door. Though she prepared herself, she hesitated. Detective Reynolds and Vasquez were on the other side, their body language suggesting that they'd rather be somewhere else. At first, she opened the door barely wide enough to peak through, but unlatched the chain and allowed them entrance. If she didn't, it would look suspicious. She didn't speak, and could only imagine what they'd have to say.
"We're fairly certain you know why we're here," Detective Reynolds said, her eyes scanning the apartment.
"If you're looking for Michael, he isn't here."
"Any ideas of where he might be?" Detective Vasquez walked into the living room. "He's bound to have contacted his fiancé, yeah?"
Eva followed them through her home. "I haven't heard from him." She knew better than to mention she had kicked him out. That would just raise even more questions and she didn't want to admit that for a split second, she had doubts about his innocence.
"Has he not been home?"
Damn it. No matter what she said, it would somehow implicate him. "Look, Mikey isn't here. You can look through the entire place if you want, but I assure you he's not. If you want to ask me any more questions you can call our lawyer. Otherwise, do what you need and get the hell out of my apartment."
"Well, Ms. Crisante, your boy Mikey is in a world of shit. If you know anything about where he might be, you better start talking, or you'll find yourself behind bars for accessory to the arsons."
"You have no solid proof, especially with this last fire. You're grasping at straws and you both know it." She wasn't sure if that was true or not, but any chance she could get to be a thorn in their side was good.
Detective Reynolds smirked and walked back into the kitchen. "Stick with being a paramedic. You let us do the real dirty work." She glanced at her partner, motioning for him to follow. "We'll find your boy. We've got every on duty cop scanning the city. It's just a matter of time. And when you speak to him again, let him know that the longer he hides, the worse it'll get. His best bet is to give himself up while he can."
"Get out," Eva said between gritted teeth. She slammed the door behind them and rested her forehead against the wood. So much bullshit over arson. How would it be if he was wanted for murder? She shivered at the thought. Turning back to the TV, she turned the volume up, unable to pull away. Mikey was still the big news story. She had to get with Casey and think something up. This couldn't rest solely on him.
"Don't worry, Mikey, we're gonna think something up. Stay strong until then." She closed her eyes and felt the warm tears escape down her cheeks. The thought of him out there on the streets, scared, alone, and running from the law made her physically sick. He didn't deserve this. He was a hero and this was no way to repay him for the good deeds he had done.
Chapter Eighteen
Michael felt something nudge him. Something sharp, pulling him from his light sleep. Jerking away, he saw the woman standing over him, a walking stick jabbing at his side. She appeared to be among the homeless population in the park and he scooted out of reach of her.
"What the f..." Maybe he was just confused from being asleep, but he wasn't comfortable having a stranger near him, especially one who looked like her.
"Didn't mean to scare you. You're just a new face and we wanted to meet you."
Wiping his face with the back of his hand, his blurry vision cleared. It was still night time
and the cold air was crisp. She was the only one near him, but the group near the trashcan was facing him, their curiosity obvious.
"I'm uhh... I'm John."
The woman studied him for a moment, almost as if she knew his name wasn't really John. "What are you doing out here, John. You don't belong out here."
"What makes you say that?" He sat up against the tree, his body aching.
She shrugged and extended her hand for him to shake. "I'm Bernie. We've got some water and a little bit of food if you want some. It's not much, but it's gourmet cuisine to us."
Michael returned the handshake. "I'm okay, thanks Bernie. I don't want to use up all your stuff."
"Just know that the invitation is there if you happen to need anything. I hope you get back to whatever life it was you left behind. Like I said, you don't belong out here, John."
He watched her walked back to the fire, still wondering what she meant by that. She never came out and said it. Did she know who he was? She seemed highly intelligent, which was a lesson learned. He was quick to judge the people who surrounded him, never to stop and think about their stories. The economy was in the shitter. Unemployment rates were soaring. Just because they were homeless didn't mean they were stupid. He was technically homeless and probably the dumbest in the bunch for allowing his own situation to escalate as bad as it had.
Hugging his knees as close to his body as he could, he tried to sleep more. Glancing at his watch, it was a little past three AM. He was shocked that he had gotten as much rest as he had before Bernie had woke him up. It was a restless sleep, but it was something to pass the time.
Michael's head rested on the soft ground and he watched the glow of the flames, licking the newspapers and wood they had gathered to keep it going. The orange and blue colors were beautiful, almost mesmerizing. It was poetic to him. Fire - something that defined his life. From the day he was born, it was a part of him. It had taken a drastic turn and the one thing that made him who he was, was now his enemy in every sense of the word. Before, it was something he ran in to with the goal of saving the innocent, but now it was devouring him.
