by Jon Mills
They had no clue.
They brushed past him and he ducked into the changing room, using that momentary distraction to his advantage. He slipped back into his jeans, keeping an eye on the door. Any second now they would be coming for him. He pulled out the Beretta from his jacket and headed out into the hallway, only to fall back as Louis squeezed off two rounds at him. The bullets lanced into the doorway, sending splinters of wood flying.
More gunfire erupted.
Drywall spat, and dust filled the air like flour.
This was not how he envisioned it.
That bastard Nico had set him up. Jack dropped to the ground and waited until he saw Louis’s leg come into view. Wheeling around, he fired two rounds into his gut pushing him back against the wall. Then he spun him around, using his body like a bulletproof vest. Extending his arm around Louis, who was now slumped over the front of him, he squeezed off three more rounds. One bullet punctured a guy’s skull sending him back into a burst of red mist. He forged forward squeezing off rounds dropping two more of the men before dumping Louis’s bullet-riddled body to the floor. As he went to leave, the fat bastard at the front counter raised a baseball bat but as soon as he saw the gun in Jack’s hand he dropped it and squeezed his eyes shut. It rattled on the hard tile floor.
Jack ducked out the door into the busy street and raced to his truck. Fuck! He slipped behind the wheel and banged it with a fist. This was all he needed. Now the mob was going to be on his ass. He tore out into traffic as more of Angelo’s men emerged from the door firing off three rounds. One of the bullets shattered his back window and glass went all over his back.
His tires squealed as he jerked the wheel to his right and veered down the nearest street. He slammed his fist against the wheel again and kept looking in his rearview mirror. As he made his way onto another street, he heard sirens blaring in the distance. Two cruisers shot by, lights strobing. He pulled out and headed for the home of the one person he could trust — Dana.
* * *
Romero hadn’t shut his trap since leaving the hospital. They were heading towards Dana Grant’s home for a follow-up interview. Up until that point, all they had was a general statement and a few tidbits of information on the final night surrounding Jason’s death. She needed to get under her skin, dig deeper and find out as much as she could about Jason and his girlfriend. Was this just a random attack or targeted? Was this guy sending these videos out there just to draw the police’s attention away from the real target — her? It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d attracted the attention of psychos.
“Hudson, Dickson isn’t going to like this.”
“He’s not going to know about it.”
“As your partner, I’m telling you this is not a smart thing to do. If this guy is focused on you, then you are putting yourself in harm’s way. You’re not a hundred percent. At least back at the hospital we can put an officer on the door.”
“Wake up, Romero. If the guy can walk into the police department without being stopped, do you honestly think I would be safe inside that hospital? I’m not scared of this guy. He’s pissing me off.” She breathed in deeply while gripping the wheel. Her knuckles went white. “Anyway, the clock is ticking. He’s going to strike again and I want to be there to stop him.”
Romero shuffled around in the leather passenger seat and laughed. “And how do you expect to do that? There are more than 864,000 people residing in San Francisco. He could strike anytime, anywhere, and we won’t know until a body is found. Hell, this is the why they couldn’t catch the Zodiac the first time around.”
She glanced over at him, as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, then brought the window down. “Fucking guy is a ghost. We’d need a ghost to catch him. Someone who thinks like him but is different. Someone who understands killing people. Heck, maybe we should talk to the FBI and see if they have a criminal profiler who has worked with anyone like this.”
Hudson shook her head. As furious as she was about the way she was being toyed with, she knew Romero was right. They were reaching, grabbing for straws. If she was honest, she didn’t have a clue how to catch this guy other than to throw a bunch of police out onto the streets and hope that he screwed up. But anyone who could walk into a busy police station and pass himself off as an officer in order to spike her drink wasn’t just a run-of-the-mill lunatic — he was smart.
“Why didn’t he kill me?”
“What?” Romero said turning towards her.
“Think about it. He’s had numerous chances to attack me. He could have shot me through the window when I was on that treadmill, put poison into my coffee, why didn’t he?”
“He’s a control freak. He enjoys playing games,” Romero said before blowing out a plume of gray smoke.
She waved her hand and coughed. “You want to put that out. I’ve told you countless times to stop smoking in this vehicle.”
He leaned forward and pressed the tip into the ashtray before tossing the butt out the window. “A man needs his vices.”
As they were weaving their way through the town, dispatch came over the radio requesting officers to make their way to Premier22 on Market Street on a report of multiple shots fired. On any other day she might have responded but her mind was completely focused on the task before her.
“Slow down, Hudson. You’ll get us pulled over.”
She shook her head and hit the gas harder.
* * *
Dana Grant stood in the middle of Jason’s room looking around at his belongings. She picked up a faded baseball cap off the side table and thought back to the days he’d played in Little League. His enthusiasm for life was as infectious as his smile was. The sound of his voice played over in her head — snippets from various times through his short life. She cast a glance at the photo of him and Melissa Gilbert on the side table. She recalled the first time he brought her home to meet her. “I think this is the one, Mom,” he’d said. “I’m gonna marry her.”
“You’re still too young, Jason.”
“I love her.”
She gave a faint smile. She couldn’t bring herself to start boxing anything up, or even deal with the funeral arrangements. It was like someone had pulled the rug out from beneath her. Dana took a seat on the edge of the bed and picked up his bag. So much had changed over the past year. It had been a huge adjustment moving to San Francisco, and Jason had been her pillar through it all.
“It will work out, Mom,” he’d said.
The quietness of the room made it all the more painful. It brought home the reality that he was gone. Sure, she still had her sister, but she had a life of her own, kids, and drama to deal with. They’d bonded over the past few years but it wasn’t the same. Since Matt had died, she’d felt the full weight of the responsibility to ensure that Jason had a good life, a better life. That’s why she pulled away from Jack. It wasn’t because she didn’t love him. God, it was far from that. But danger followed him and if it wasn’t knocking on the door, he was out there searching for it. That’s just who he was and she couldn’t have that life for her son.
She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, letting the memories of the past wash over her. How did she pick up the pieces from here? Her eyes snapped open when there was a knock at the door.
Before she had made it to the top of the stairs, there was another knock. This time it was even harder than before.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming.”
Behind the opaque glass she could make out the silhouette of a figure. She got close to the door and peered through the peephole. She shook her head. Even though she’d given him her address after he’d pestered her for it, she’d given him specific instructions not to show up. She didn’t want to have to explain to her sister who he was, or worse — explain to the police.
Her brow knit together. “Jack?”
“Can I come in?”
Chapter 9
Dana lived in a two-story brick home in the Sunset District. Unlike most of the or
nate wooden Victorian abodes that were several stories high — the typical cookie-cutter homes that blanketed the city’s western neighborhood — hers had more of a Mediterranean feel to it. With its castle-like turrets, porthole windows and yellow stucco façade it looked more like a miniature chateau. The small property with terra-cotta roof tiles was part of a series of row homes that appeared to have identical layouts.
Jack walked across the hardwood floors into a bright living room with a fireplace as the centerpiece. The bay window was covered by thin white drapes and off to the right was a separate dining area and large kitchen. He’d remembered how good she’d been at making a house feel like a home.
The first thing he noticed after taking a seat on the tan sofa was a photo of Jason and her, a snapshot of better days. He had his arm around her and was squeezing her tight. They looked happy. The way he’d always imagined they would be on the nights he’d thought about them.
“Look, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have come here but I…” He paused biting down on his lower lip.
“Say it, Jack.”
“I think this is over my head. It’s different when you’re in a small town and there are people that know each other. It’s easy to follow leads, but in a city this big, dealing with a stranger. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack.”
“But that’s what you do — find people. You did it in New York.”
“I knew the streets.”
She stared at him blankly.
“What? What are you saying? Do you want to leave?”
“Yeah, I mean, no. I…” He leaned forward and sighed casting his eyes down into his hands. He ran a hand over his glaring red knuckles.
“You ran into trouble, didn’t you?”
She stood across from him, her arms folded. He didn’t respond to that so she walked over to the bay window and looked out. “It was probably a bad idea asking you to come. Selfish even. I just wanted…”
“… him to pay. I get it, Dana. I really do.”
“So you’re giving up even before you’ve got started?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“Then what are you saying?” she said turning back toward him.
He felt conflicted by it all. He stood up and went over to her and she backed up a little. “I’ve spent the last three years burying myself inside job after job. At first it was to forget you. Then, I tried to replace you with someone else. After that, I was just glad I hadn’t heard from you because it meant that you were safe, free from whatever hell I put you through.”
He turned away from her and walked over to a white shelf full of books. He ran his hands across the spines and recalled his time at the lighthouse with her — that night — everything that they had experienced together.
“What are you afraid of, Jack?”
“I’m not.”
“Then what is it?”
He shot back, “I let you down once, I don’t want to do it again.”
She took a step forward. “So why come all this way if you had no intentions of helping?”
He looked back at her. “Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to see you.” He turned back towards the shelf. “I know. Selfish, right?” Silence stretched between them, neither one felt the need to fill the space. All that could be heard was a grandfather clock ticking in the hallway. He heard her approach and felt her hand against the small of his back.
“When I chose to walk away, it wasn’t because of you.”
His brow knit together and he looked back at her.
“It was because of Jason. He uh…” she trailed off and picked at the shelving unit. “He was my world, Jack, and I wouldn’t allow any harm to come to him even if it meant giving up the one thing I wanted.”
He put his hand out and cupped her face, then pushed back a stray strand of hair behind her ear. They studied each other’s face for a second, and he was about to reply when there was hard knock at the door.
“You expecting someone?”
She shook her head and went over to the bay window and glanced out. “Shit. It’s the detectives.”
His eyes widened.
“Look, just stay here, I’ll get them to go away.”
He nodded, she exited the room, and he heard the front door open.
* * *
“This is really not a good time,” Dana said upon cracking the door.
The slick-looking male detective flashed his badge. “San Francisco Homicide. I’m Detective Romero and this is Detective Hudson, we were—”
She rolled her eyes. “I know who you are,” Dana said, barely holding the door open.
“We were just hoping to have a moment of your time. It’s just a routine follow-up.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not feeling very well. Could you come back tomorrow?”
“It won’t take long.”
“Unfortunately I can’t do it now.”
She went to close the door, and the female put her hand against it. “Ms. Grant. It’s important that we speak with you. It’s about your son.”
Dana turned her head ever so slightly at the sound of movement behind her.
The detective’s brows pinched. “Do you have company?”
Before she could stop them, the female detective forced her way inside even as Dana protested, “Excuse me.”
The detective ignored her and went into the back room and peered inside. Dana quickly caught up with her and put herself between her and the living room. “I know my rights and you can’t just come barging in here.”
She turned towards her and put a hand over the gun on her holster. “Ma’am, we have a murderer on the loose and a lot of questions that remain unanswered. Now we really don’t have a lot of time to mess around.”
Dana narrowed her eyes; she was about done with these assholes. She headed towards the phone. “You know what, I’m going to call your department. I want the name of the captain.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to be of much use to you right now. You’d have a better chance of reaching the pope,” she said glancing past her shoulder. Dana turned and noticed that the living room was empty. Hudson brushed past her and went straight over to the window where the drapes were blowing in the breeze. She stuck her head outside then looked back at her.
“You know, Ms. Grant. We can’t help your son, unless you are completely honest with us.”
“Shouldn’t you be out there, tracking down whoever did this instead of hassling me?”
“We are. Now we are doing our best to locate whoever is responsible but to do that we need the cooperation of those who he initially targeted.” She continued talking as she walked around looking at framed photos on the mantel above the fireplace. She picked up a photo of Jason. Dana walked over and pulled it out of her hands.
“I already gave my statement. I’ve told you what I know, now would you please leave. I have a funeral to arrange.”
“Settle down, Ms. Grant. We just have a few questions and we’ll be on our way.”
Dana walked over to a chair and sat down. She was wondering where Jack had gone. Hopefully he was several blocks away by now. Both detectives remained standing. The guy wandered out into the corridor and looked to be nosing around.
“Do you mind putting that down?” Dana said noticing Romero pick up a statue that was on a side table.
“Ms. Grant, as you know, we’re working with the FBI and strangely enough they had a file on you. So I brought it up and took a look. It appears the FBI was showing an interest in you after your involvement with someone from the mob, is that correct?”
“What has that got to do with my son’s death?”
“Ma’am, we have to rule out that this wasn’t some kind of retaliation for what you may have been involved in.”
She scowled at the detective and leaned forward. “And what do you imagine that is, detective?”
“That’s the part that the file didn’t explain. You see, we have general details but no specifics on who this mobster was. Parts of the
paperwork were blacked out as if someone had intentionally gone in and removed information. Now there are only a few reasons that happens. I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on it.”
“Look, my husband fell in with the wrong crowd. So if I ended up on the FBI’s radar it’s because of that. My husband is now dead, that is in the past and we are trying, or we were trying to move on with our lives before this happened.”
“So you don’t have a name?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Are you sure?”
She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “I can’t help you, detective.”
“You see, I couldn’t help notice on our way over here that a business that is known to be frequented by the San Francisco mob came under fire today. Several people are dead. Now we have a murder of two innocents, the slaying of mob members, and then you… with some history with the mob in New York. You can see where I’m going with this, can’t you?”
“Actually, detective, yeah, I can see where you’re going with this.” She rose to her feet and got real close to Hudson. “You have nothing, admit it. You are reaching. Honestly, I might not know how the mob works but I know they did not do this act of violence against my son. Mob members don’t kill people and then upload videos claiming to be the Zodiac.” She chuckled. “Now I can see why the Zodiac got away last time.”
