Fractured

by Wendy Byrne

  * * *

  “She cut me loose.” Without a phone, Landry walked to the bar on the corner to make the call. “I told you if she figured out what I was doing, I’d be toast.”

  “I still have the guy out in front. He’s in a white van instead of the usual Fed issue. I’ll call in another guy to cover the back and meet you there in about ten minutes.”

  Chills raced up and down his body. “I’d feel better if I were inside the apartment.” If he thought it could work, he’d barge through the front door until this thing was over.

  “You and me both. But that doesn’t seem like a viable option.”

  “I’ll wait for you in front. I have a feeling she’s going to do something very stupid real soon.” Landry thanked the bartender for the use of the phone and went outside, cutting through the alley. That’s when he ran right into a familiar face. “What are you doing here?”

  He didn’t hear the guy come up from behind him until it was too late.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Isabella’s whole body shook as she shuddered through another round of sobs. What was the matter with her? Every time she managed to quiet herself another intense round squeezed at her chest and it started all over again: the struggling for breath through hiccups of emotion, the stream of tears that didn’t want to stop, all while her heart felt like it had been broken in two.

  She plunked down on her bed and covered her face with her grandfather’s handkerchief as she tried to obliterate the last several hours. Somehow it brought her no solace this time, especially when her sheets smelled of Landry and sex.

  How could he have done this to her?

  She hopped out of bed and began stripping the sheets. Stamping out the memory of how Landry had suckered her would be a good start. New sheets would be the only avenue to a couple of hours of sleep tonight. She tugged on the corners of her pillow until it landed on the floor. Just as she was about to gather everything and throw it in the hamper—deciding that burning them in the fireplace was a little too wasteful—she remembered her second set of sheets were still sitting in the basket in the laundry room, waiting to be washed.

  Undeterred from her mission, she grabbed the sheets and walked down the hall toward the laundry room. She dumped both sets onto the floor, along with various articles of clothing, and began to load them into the machine. That’s when she noticed the piece of paper that had floated to the floor.

  And then the smell hit her. The faint odor of cinnamon.

  Her fingers shook as she picked up the small piece of chewing gum foil and unfolded it. On it was a replica of her father’s tattoo. Underneath it he’d written, ‘I’ll always love you, Bella.’ It was signed ‘Love, Daddy.’

  Goosebumps riddled her arms as she realized he must have placed it in her pillowcase the night he’d been killed. A fresh bout of tears peppered her eyes as memories from long ago came rushing back. It was her birthday and he’d showed her the tattoo and told her they were going to be a family. He said that he and her mother were going to get married. He said they were all going on a great adventure and they would be together forever.

  At the time she’d been so excited she could hardly breathe. But he’d made her promise not to tell anyone. He said it would ruin the surprise. So she didn’t. Instead she’d waited and waited and waited.

  But the adventure never happened. And then her mother died and her whole world was never the same.

  Oh, God, all this time she’d hated him. Now she had to wonder if all her hatred was misdirected. Did all her ‘issues with trust,’ as Landry would say, stem from this defining incident in her life?

  Closing her eyes, she inhaled the cinnamon scent lingering in the air, relishing the weird sense of comfort it brought. As much as she burned to share what she’d learned with Landry, the sting of his betrayal remained fresh in her mind. That and the fact his phone lay in pieces on her floor.

  Instead, she paced, and obsessed, and paced some more until she finally collapsed on her bed, the note from her father clenched within her fingers. When her phone rang sometime later, she jumped.

  “Sanchez.”

  “We have your boyfriend.” The voice from her nightmares caused the hair on her arms to stand at attention.

  “How do I know you’re telling the truth, Ramirez?”

  The resultant cackle sent a chill clear down to her toes. “It’s all about trust between me and you.”

  “What if I said Landry’s in bed next to me right now?” Isabella closed her eyes and wished she were telling the truth.

  “I’d say you were full of it. We picked him up when you threw him out a couple of hours ago.”

  Isabella bit back a curse. “What do you want?”

  “You. Alone.”

  “I’m not that stupid.”

  “Oh, but I think you are.” He held the phone away. In the background, she heard a man moaning in pain. She didn’t want to believe it was Landry.

  “Leave him alone. I’m the one you want.” Terror spiraled through her, leaving her breathless. What had she done? If she’d let him stay, he would be safe.

  “You’re right. You are the one I want. Meet me at the north end of Oz Park in five minutes.” He drew in a breath. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll shake that Fed bodyguard in front of your house and leave your phone.”

  “I need to talk to Landry first.”

  Without another word, Landry’s voice came on the line. “I’m all right.” Seconds later, Ramirez was back on the line. “Satisfied? We see anybody but you and he’s dead. Now you’re down to three minutes.”

  “Don’t you dare touch—” The line went dead.

  Her entire body shook as fear unlike anything she’d ever known took over. She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to focus. Landry’s life depended on her.

  After slipping on her black nylon jacket, she placed her gun in the holster at her back and slunk out the door. Her nerves rattled until she thought maybe all the tendons joining muscles to bone might shake loose. Knowing he might die because of her made the guilt all the more potent.

  * * *

  Landry held the blood-soaked rag to his head as tingles raced up and down his spine. “Isabella, answer the damn door.” He pounded again until he thought for sure he woke the neighbors a block away. “She’s not in there.”

  “No way she could have gotten past us.” The Fed watchdog postured, arms across his chest.

  “You don’t know Isabella.” Landry put his shoulder into it and broke the hinges off the front door. He raced through the apartment, calling her name in vain. “She’s got her gun.” His head still throbbed from the blow he’d taken. “But left her phone.”

  “That means they didn’t get to her like Jonas thought they would,” Malone said as he joined them inside the apartment.

  “She agreed to meet them. They must have told her to leave the phone, knowing we could GPS it.” Landry said as he stalked back to the van and threw open the door. He grabbed his former partner by the front of the shirt, more than ready to tear him apart a piece at a time. “Where is she?”

  It hadn’t been pretty, but he, Jonas and Matthews had gone a couple of rounds earlier in the alley. Matthews was still out cold in the back of the van. Jonas had been out, but now just looked like hell and had a broken arm. At least he was coherent.

  Jonas had tears in his eyes. “I didn’t want to hurt her.” His shoulders slumped. “Or you, but at some point I had to. They had my boy in their clutches. I needed to save him. I tried to keep her away as much as I could, but she wouldn’t give up.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Malone asked.

  “Matthews has been working on his sharp-shooting skills to qualify for SWAT. He’s the one that took a shot at her in that alley.” Jonas shook his head. “I didn’t want him to do it, but he told me she wouldn’t get hurt. Later, he attacked her down on Lower Wacker to try to get her to stop. But she wouldn’t. Neither of us wanted to hurt her. Matthews’s sole
mission was to kill her father. We both thought she’d be fine with that. Instead, she went off on some revenge trip.”

  Landry’s blood froze, and for a few seconds he questioned his sanity. “Why?”

  “He’s got a habit. Ramirez gives him free nose candy to cooperate.”

  Landry clenched his teeth and forced away the terror eating up his insides. All the other questions buzzing around his brain could wait. “Where did she go? How did they get her to cooperate?”

  “My guess is they used you somehow as a lure. But I swear to you I don’t know where she is.” Jonas slumped in defeat. “Originally, they wanted it to go down as a murder/suicide…” He couldn’t look Landry in the eye. “They had my boy, man.” He shrugged. “When they didn’t hear from us, they must have changed plans.”

  “Where would they take her?” Malone asked.

  Jonas shrugged, guilt playing across his face. “Maybe Schmidt.”

  “They know that’s the first place we’d look.” Landry could barely stand still.

  “But they’ve got some kind of secret room. From what I understand, it’s impossible to penetrate.” Jonas hung his head. “Matthews has been there. If anybody knows how to get in, it would be him.”

  The driver squealed away from the curb heading towards Schmidt Packaging while Malone tried smelling salts to bring Matthews around.

  “We need to find her before it’s too late.” Landry spoke more to himself than to anyone else. He didn’t want to think what Ramirez would do to her. He didn’t think twice about torturing people just for the fun of it.

  Suddenly the ping of gunfire riddled the side of the van, forcing them all to dive for cover.

  * * *

  Her heart knocked against her chest as she reached Oz Park. It was only a couple of blocks from her house. She’d probably gone past this place a million times in her lifetime, but she’d never felt this kind of outright terror at the sight of it. She entered the path at the south end and checked her watch. She had less than thirty seconds left. Breathless, she jogged along, willing her shaky legs to move. She didn’t have anything resembling a plan, but didn’t care.

  Before she made the first turn, two men swept alongside her, guns pointed in her direction. Even in the dark, the white streak of hair gave him away.

  “Ramirez, I thought for sure you’d send a couple of your goons.”

  He backhanded her across the face so hard she would have hit the ground if the other man hadn’t prevented it. “Get her piece. Then cuff her.”

  The man yanked her gun out of the holster in back. “Got it.” He patted her down. “No cell.”

  Handcuffs clicked into place. She swiveled her head in all directions. “Where’s Landry?”

  Instead of responding, Ramirez pushed her into the backseat of a car while he got into the front passenger side. Because she didn’t have her arms free for leverage, she landed awkwardly against someone else in the backseat. “Landry?”

  The chuckle sent a chill clear through to her bones. “No, it’s not your precious Landry. Don’t you think it’s time we put an end to all this nonsense?”

  “This isn’t a great way to turn yourself in, Schmidt. But the judge might go easy on you if you let me go.” She struggled against the cuffs, even though doing so made her arm hurt like the devil.

  Schmidt laughed. “Nice sense of humor, detective, but we’ll need to move on before we’re spotted.”

  “Where’s Landry? Where are you taking me?”

  “Here’s the thing, detective. You kind of screwed up Plan A. It would have been so poetic, a lover’s quarrel gone horribly tragic. But then you kicked him out before we could get it done and we had to move on to Plan B. But that got screwed up as well when I underestimated Landry’s skill. But we’re nothing, if not resourceful.”

  She gulped. “I don’t understand. Ramirez had him. I heard his voice.”

  “A skillful lie goes a long way when paired with the wonders of a good audio tape.” Schmidt said and then shrugged. “Now we’ll have to get rid of him one way or another.” He shook his head. “Drive-by shootings, random gunfire. These streets of Chicago aren’t safe anymore. And, as for you, you’ll just—poof—disappear.”

  “You bastard.” Isabella struggled against the cuffs binding her. She’d been sucked into a trap.

  “I believe in covering my bases. We’re going to the warehouse, but that doesn’t mean even if your friend Taylor and his Fed pals escape the ambush we have planned for them, they’ll be able to find you.”

  “You might not have faith in the system, but I do.” She knew without a doubt Landry would tear apart Schmidt Packaging piece by piece until he found her, assuming he managed to survive whatever ambush they had planned.

  “Always a believer, aren’t you? But you haven’t figured it out yet, have you? It’s such a shame you can’t possibly get out of this alive. I admire your chutzpah,” he said. “If you weren’t so nosy, I wouldn’t be forced to do this.”

  They both knew that was bull. He wanted to continue on with whatever he was doing.

  Ramirez remained quiet in the front seat. This whole time she thought he was the mastermind, when in reality Jonathan Schmidt was the true puppeteer.

  The car screeched to a halt. She was forced out of the backseat and shoved through the door of Schmidt Packaging. The car that dropped them off sped away, leaving her, Schmidt, Ramirez and Nathan Johnson alone.

  The odd smell from yesterday seemed overpowering now. While she started to cough from the noxious aroma, the others appeared immune.

  “I’m not sure you’ve connected all the dots yet, Detective, but you were close enough to gather some attention. So close to our goal, I couldn’t have you do that.”

  “Who did you get to beside Matthews?”

  “Some people are more vulnerable than others due to life circumstances.” His smile was positively ghoulish. “Like an errant child, for example.”

  She could have sworn her heart stopped beating inside her chest as the words spilled out. “Jonas. You were leveraging his son.” Never in a million years would Landry ever suspect Jonas of being in on this. She trembled as she recognized how vulnerable that would make him.

  He pointed an irritating finger at her. “Ding. Ding. Ding. Very good, Detective. You win the prize for today.”

  She blocked out his pompous rhetoric and concentrated on Landry. She couldn’t assume the worst. If he joined forces with Malone, there was a reasonable chance they could evade a trap. Then he’d come looking for her. He’d always have her back, just like she’d always have his, because it was all about trust. How could she have been so blind for so long?

  Assuming they lived long enough, she needed to tell him how she felt, how she’d always felt about him.

  Going it alone was no longer the way she wanted to live her life. Please, please, please let Landry somehow be alive. Hell, even let Malone be alive.

  Schmidt’s voice broke through her thoughts. “I’m sure you’re more than a little curious about how we do it. Especially after all you did to disgrace yourself in front of your lieutenant, as well as the Feds.”

  “You ship drugs out of here. I haven’t figured out how yet, but I’m sure I will eventually.”

  “Ah-hah. Always the little terror, aren’t you? You’re like your father in that.”

  How could he have known her father?

  “Why don’t you get to the point?” Not only was she curious, but she wanted to prolong the situation to give Landry and the cavalry time. Considering Schmidt’s cockiness, he didn’t have any fear in that regard.

  He turned an innocent-looking crank on one of the machines and a wall shifted open. Where there was a solid wall moments earlier, now there was a room. One of the two men shoved her inside and followed behind before closing the door.

  Inside the place was dark and damp, and that nasty smell was even more pungent. She stifled a cough and struggled to take each breath. They seemed oblivious.

  She sp
otted mounds and mounds of powdery substance sitting in clear plastic bins along the side. They were lined up on racks like in a car parts warehouse.

  Rolls of plastic were affixed to the side of a large steel table in the center. Off to the corner sat a scale. Large bottles of liquid were clamped onto the walls along the side.

  “Yes, we ship drugs. Can you imagine that? Right under everyone’s noses. It’s so simple. I’m shocked we’re the first people to think about it,” he said. “It’s a shame you didn’t figure it out yesterday, isn’t it? What can I say, Detective? You screwed up.”

  “You didn’t care about me being back here because I never would have found this room?”

  “Except that I could tell you were bothered by the smell. If only you could put your finger on where it was coming from.”

  “As long as we’ve gotten to this point, you should at least show me how it works.”

  “That’s so cliché, Detective. Can’t you get a little more creative? Take a guess? You’re an intelligent woman. I’m sure you could figure it out if I gave you enough time.” He cackled. “Even if the place is swarming with cops, they couldn’t possibly find us back here. There are no cars in the parking lot so sooner or later they’ll give up, and we can dispose of you without much of a fuss.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer but continued his train of thought. “It’s in the cardboard. Literally imbedded in between the sheets of cardboard. It’s amazing how much dope can fit inside a simple cardboard box. Once it reaches its destination, it’s a simple process to extract it once again.” He started to laugh, the sound so different than the man she’d first met a couple of weeks ago that it brought goose bumps down her arms. “But the best one is the bubble wrap. Inside each one of those little squares is a dime bag of heroin. Come on, now, you’ve got to marvel at the genius of that. And we owe it all to your father. He was the mastermind behind the process. Too bad he met an untimely end.”

  “What?”

  “He was a brilliant man. He figured out the way to move our product right under the noses of everyone without even one eyebrow being raised.”