Beautiful Chase

by MJ Nightingale

  Bella had run within the last twenty-four hours, and Angela hadn't been able to get a line on her whereabouts. She had already put in the call to their fact checker, and internet/electronics guy. They were waiting to see if she left a trace, runners usually did.

  His phone began to chirp. Blaze flashed a quick glance at the screen before connecting, confirming his thought that it was Andreas.

  "Yo," he answered. "What's the scoop?" He was always known for wasting no time, and getting straight to the point. Andreas shared that quality with him.

  "Nothing on her credit cards, or her mother's." Andreas spoke quickly.

  "Her mother's?" Blaze queried.

  "Yes, she lived with her mom. Her bail was contingent upon her mom living. We thought she might have tried to use those. We also checked the hospice workers cards. They went in during the week and she could have pilfered theirs. This morning at eight AM they found the mom dead, no sign of Bella. They were their yesterday evening at 7:30 and Bella was home then. It's nearly 7:00pm now, so she possibly has a twenty-four hour head start on us."

  "So, no leads then," Blaze whistled softly. It’s what he had concluded as well.

  "I didn't say that. I got someone bringing a copy of her files to you now. I'm heading home in a bit after I give you a report. I need a shower and to clear my head. A bit jet lagged."

  "Okay, but the leads?" Blaze responded. His brother was thorough before granting bond, and there was sure to be plenty to go on in the file he had prepared for him.

  "The mom’s car is gone. She'll probably dump it, if she hasn't already. If she was smart she dumped it before leaving the state and before an All-Points Bulletin went out on her. I figure she drove for the border. Girl moved here from Tennessee four years ago. I figure we start there."

  "Angela, book me a flight?" he interrupted.

  "Nope, you're driving."

  "That's eleven hours," Blaze quickly calculated.

  "Yep, but you may need your weapons. Those brothers are connected. Their lawyers are coming up with a good defense. No camera images of them; they wore masks. No finger prints; hell, they didn't even speak, used signs so no voice recognition software could be used to identify them. They released a story on the six o’clock tonight; Bella robbed the bank to buy drugs for mom’s new cancer treatment. They are innocent, she duped them. They were her patsy’s. They must have gotten wind that she ran so the lawyer is using this opportunity to blow more smoke and mirrors and try to get some public sympathy. They are working on trying to get another bond hearing now. I also figure once big poppa hears Bella's gone MIA they will want to silence her. If she disappears that only helps build doubt for a jury in the trial for the sons. I've already called Gio. He’ll fly out and meet you there in a day or two once Nikko is out of the hospital.”

  "Tell him to wait for my call, no sense rushing until I find out if I'm the only one chasing her, but I'll bring extra ammo just in case."

  "Okay, but you catch wind of anything you call for back up?" Andreas was sounding tired. They’d been up late and up early. He knew his brother hadn’t even gone home yet.

  "Gotcha." He heard Andreas about to click off. "Wait, one more thing?" he asked.

  "What?" He heard his brother’s tired sigh.

  "The girl dangerous? She innocent?" He asked wanting to know if he was in danger from her end as well.

  "I provided the bond, easy money, as she was going back to jail in a few weeks. Thought she was innocent myself when I saw her in court. Like I said earlier, Mom came in personally and begged me to help get her out. Woman was at death’s door. Paid me in cash, said it was all she had. It's all in the report. Frankly, I don't know. Even sweet and innocent girls can be false and deceiving. I went with my gut on this, and frankly the mom’s story got me to do it. Did she rob the bank for the drugs to save her mom? Maybe. Her mom was going all out for her. Did she dupe those boys into helping her? I doubt they are innocent, but you never know."

  Blaze could hear the weariness in his brother’s voice. The fatigue. His brother had worked round the clock practically to wrap up all the loose ends of their last case in Maine. It wasn't like him to speculate so much on a client.

  "Get some rest," Blaze told his brother. "I'm gonna drive a couple hours tonight. I'll call some guys to check for car dump sites on the way too, so we know if we are on the right track. Call me if you hear anything."

  ***

  Andreas grunted and hung up, pissed he hadn't thought to check the dump sites near the border and have a guy on it already. He was glad Blaze was on this one. Methodical, always. Serious, nearly one hundred percent of the time. And it when it came to the opposite sex, he always had his guard up. Blaze was perfect for this case.

  ***

  Shit! Sweet girls. The worst kind, Blaze thought. He went back to his closet and began to assemble the things he would need. Well, one thing for sure whether she did it to get money to help her mom, or her loser boyfriend, she had broken the law. And that's all he needed to know. It was simple. Black and white. Within twenty minutes he was ready to chase down Bella Chase.

  Bella relaxed. She'd put in a long day cleaning the small loft that made up the upstairs area of the small cabin. She'd been here three weeks and had spent most of her time cleaning the downstairs area. The place had not been lived in for over forty years and it had taken that long to get just the downstairs habitable. Coated in decades of dust and cobwebs and woodsy creatures she didn't want to even think about, the abandoned cabin, an inheritance of her aunt’s from a distant relative had become her project and refuge. It kept her mind off her mother’s passing, and kept her busy. It also kept her from worrying too much and obsessing about possibly being caught.

  Before arriving in Cherokee, Bella purchased a few cleaning supplies when the bus she had taken made a pit stop. She knew she’d need some things, but she hadn’t a clue. The place had been a disaster. She’d already spent a good chunk of change on cleaning supplies alone, but now after three weeks of hard work it was finally taking shape. It had been a month since she had run, and she’d keep working this hard and take these long days over that first week any day. She’d been so terrified.

  She'd dumped her mom’s car in Tallahassee before leaving Florida. The license plate could identify her mom and be traced back to her. The four hour drive she'd used it for had her frantic. Her heart slammed in her chest the whole time and her fingers, white-knuckled on the steering wheel cramped from long hours at the wheel.

  After leaving the car, she’d been lucky to get a ride from a friendly female truck driver to Atlanta. She'd rented a hotel and stayed four days delaying her journey to North Carolina until she felt safer about coming here. She'd holed up in the dive of a motel watching the news and carefully planning out her next steps.

  She'd heard her name mentioned twice in connection with her disappearance and the upcoming trial of her ex-boyfriend just weeks away. Her ex was bad news, worse than even she had realized. The reporter covering the bank robbery that had taken the life of a security guard had done an expose of the Roman Family. The father owned several strip clubs in Hillsborough and Manatee counties, and had been in and out of the news for drug related crimes, extortion, and running a prostitution ring through several of his massage parlors. He'd avoided prison time due to crafty lawyers, sharks who always managed to get him off on some kind of technicality. The piece the reporter did was entitled Above the Law. The sons, one of which was her ex-boyfriend Anthony, apparently had robbed the bank along with her, having been cut off from his father after the father found out the son was actively involved in his own side-line pursuits. The reporter ended the piece quipping sarcastically that the brothers were claiming they did not plan the crime, Bella had in fact planned it in order to get money to pay for her mom’s medical expenses, which was total crap, Bella quietly fretted. Her mom’s insurance had covered her treatments, but that was their defense. The brothers’ lawyers were claiming she had given the weapons to them and told
them they were not loaded. Their attorney was arguing the true mastermind was at large, and the brothers deserved to be charged with a lesser crime. Bella had cried silently listening to the clip of the attorney weaving the tale that made her appear guilty as sin. He was obviously one of the many attorneys on the Roman Payroll.

  The news story was also one of the reasons she hadn't left Atlanta either. She'd been too afraid to leave the hotel room. She'd been afraid of being recognized. They'd plastered her drivers’ license photo across the screen and some more recent pictures of her taken from her Facebook page. Luckily she had golden highlights through her long brown hair in all those photos and she could take care of that easily.

  The second day after the news report, she'd risked running out across the street late one night to on all night Walgreens and purchased some items to help change her appearance. Unfortunately that meant her hair. A box of mahogany brown hair hid her highlights. She used the scissors she’d purchased as best she could to create wavy layers taking nearly six inches off her hair that had reached three quarters of the way down her back. Now it curled softly, just past her shoulders. She rather liked the ease and the lightness of it. She also liked the color, much more like her own natural coloring she hadn’t sported in years. It made a drastic difference. As for makeup, she'd decided to go without any at all. She normally wore it, but not wearing any at all was enough of a difference. She didn't think she'd be recognized, if people gave her just a passing glance. But she'd stayed at the hotel for another three days to be sure, shopping at night on occasion for new clothes, jeans, and sweaters and simple shirts that revealed nothing. She'd destroyed all her clothes, much more fashionable, but didn’t regret it as she was looking to create a whole new identity for herself.

  ***

  After Atlanta, she decided it would be safer to move on. It had been easy enough to keep the motel cleaning staff away by keeping her do not disturb sign up, but she didn’t want to risk staying longer. She paid for a week up front, not knowing how long she would be able to stay but felt the time was right. Her hair and new bland clothes made her feel fairly confidant she wouldn’t be recognized, so she’d taken another risk, and moved on.

  From Atlanta, she risked purchasing a bus ticket. She’d found the nearest greyhound service station, The Marta-Garnett Station, in the phone book, and had taken the city bus to get there. Once there, she knew her final destination would be North Carolina, but at the last moment she’d changed her mind. She didn’t want to go directly there in case the police, or worse, someone from the Roman family went looking for her there first. A circuitous route would be better.

  She wasn’t planning on going anywhere near Memphis where she had lived with her mom and had grown up. That would be too risky. She could be recognized. But, she was planning on going to Cherokee where her aunt had inherited an old cabin. It was on the other side of the state, closer to Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge and was actually in North Carolina along the border of Tennessee. Her mom’s idea had been brilliant. Surely, no one would look there. Her aunt had inherited the rundown place from a distant relative. It was in the middle of nowhere, and she had never been there, her mom only talking about it on occasion and remembered visiting there when she herself had been a girl a few times. She’d seen pictures of the place, and it had looked rustic then. She couldn’t imagine what condition it was in now, but it was definitely a place where she could hide out.

  But, she did want to get closer to her eventual destination, so she had decided upon Birmingham, Alabama. It would get her close, but still give her time to plan on how she would get to her final destination. She didn’t want to risk taking a bus right to her last stop, and her funds were limited, and she had to watch carefully how and where she spent her money. It would have to last years until she could work up the courage to look for work, or find a way to make a living and create her new identity.

  The nights were the worse. Her doubts plagued her. She kept thinking she should turn herself in, but she promised her mother. Her mother had been terrified of what would happen to her in jail. And she was too. After she had watched the news program about the Roman’s, she had been terrified just how far their reach was. No, she was doing the right thing, she told herself every time she woke up from one of her nightmares in which either the police or the Romans caught up to her.

  So, Birmingham it had been. She’d only stayed three days when an opportunity had arisen. Bored and lonely, she had ventured out of her motel one evening when she had heard drums.

  There was a park across the street from where she was staying, and there was a fair of some kind going on. A Native American festival of some sort, she soon discovered as she ventured over to the small square under the cover darkness. There were tents and display booths, and under them were many Native Americans displaying their wares; crafts, beautiful jewelry, and traditional clothes and herbal medicines. She walked by many booths, and made her way over to the drum circle. People converged around the drummers, and she listened to the rhythmic sounds, and soothing beats, and thrumming. She almost lost herself and her fears momentarily by the enchanting rhythm. She didn’t notice time passing until a small commotion behind her snapped her out of her reverie.

  "Oh no! What happened Graham?" Bella heard a concerned voice call out.

  Bella turned to see an old Native American man stooped over in pain. "It's my back. It gave out again. I was trying to carry those boxes to my truck." He was pointing at several large crates and boxes piled high.

  "You should've asked me to get one of the boys. They would've gladly helped you." A much younger Indian woman with long black ebony hair, very pregnant, was helping the older man to a seat behind his booth.

  "I know, but I didn't want to bother them. It looks like they're really enjoying themselves." His voice reverberated like gravel as he reached his hand behind him to rub his back.

  "You foolish old man," she scolded. "Now how are you going to drive the two and a half hours back to Cherokee with your back in this condition?" Bella’s heart thundered.

  "Now Clara, I'll manage just fine. I always do. Don't you worry about me." He began to get up, but winced in pain and sat back down. It was clear the man was in agony.

  "You’ll do no such thing. WE will finish packing up your truck, and we’ll just have to leave it somewhere and find someone to come for it later. You'll have to drive home with us." Her tone brokered no argument.

  "I can't leave my truck Clara. Someone's bound to see it and they might steal all my things." The old man sounded quite worried. "I'll take my time. I'll take it slow. Don't worry. I'll get there," he repeated.

  Bella's mind ran a mile a minute. This could be her chance. "I can drive you," she blurted. Two sets of beautiful brown almond shaped eyes turned her way. The woman, Clara, looked at her suspiciously. The old man smiled.

  "Pardon me?" Clara's tone was sharp and suspicious.

  "Sorry. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I was headed that way tomorrow. I was going to take a bus, but since you need a ride and you don't want to leave your stuff here, I can drive him," she offered again.

  Clara looked at her warily still, and then looked down at Graham. He just shrugged his shoulders.

  "What's your name?" Clara asked. "And why are you headed to Cherokee?"

  Bella had to think fast. She needed these people to trust her. She had to be as honest as she could, but didn't want to reveal too much of her past. She didn't want the lies to snowball into something she couldn't remember and get caught up in later. "My name is . . . Izzy. And I inherited a property in the area. It was a distant relatives and . . . I’m looking to start over there." It was the best she could do for now.

  The old man looked at the girl. He saw something in her eyes. "Boyfriend trouble?" He asked full of concern.

  Bella nodded demurely, even though it was the biggest understatement she had heard in months.

  "Alright. I think it would be alright. Clara?" The old man looked up to th
e younger woman to see if she was okay with this.

  “What is the place?” she questioned. “Cherokee is a small town.”

  She had to be honest here. The place had been abandoned for decades and surely they would not know the connection to her. “It used to belong to May and Normand Perdue.”

  Clara nodded ad her eyes widened in surprise. "I know the place. That’s going to be a lot of work.” Bella noticed Clara’s face had somewhat relaxed as she continued to think.

  “Yeah, I know. I expected as much. But it’s mine now, and I’ve always wanted to go back to my roots.” The older man, Graham, was nodding approvingly at her words. He’d known the Perdue’s. Good people.

  “Well . . . I guess it would be alright . . . But I'll follow you out there with the kids. Does that sound okay?" She eyed Bella still just a tad suspiciously.

  "Sounds more than fair," Bella readily agreed. "Just let me run over to my motel. It's right across the street. I'll grab my stuff and then I can finish helping you pack up the truck."

  "Sounds like a fair trade to me," Graham put in. He was smiling at her kindly.

  Bella returned the smile, but then waited on the younger woman’s final stamp of approval. Clara finally nodded at her and wasn’t looking at her as suspiciously as before.

  With a quick wave, Bella turned and made her way across the street. She moved quickly. She didn't want these people to change their minds if she were gone too long. She desperately hoped this was a sign her luck was changing.

  Cleaning the downstairs had been her first priority, but now she was tackling the upstairs loft. The cabin had to be over one hundred years old. But thankfully, when she arrived after Graham had dropped her off the following morning, the place still stood.