Corner Blitz (Burnside Series Book 5)

by David Chill

  "Not many people know," Thorn said. "Just a few. But they're close to Rex. Obviously we need to keep it that way."

  "So what's the play here?" I asked. "Are you going to take the governor's daughter by force?"

  "No. It'll be just like the last time."

  "Last time?"

  "What? You think she hasn't done this before?" Thorn sniffed. "We usually pick her up at a classmate's house after she overstays her welcome. This time was different, she took off with that Diego kid and we couldn't find her."

  "And that's why you hired me," I said.

  "That's right, peeper. We've got more important things to do, in case you hadn't noticed."

  "And that was you and Shelly who were talking to Diego down at Langer's."

  Thorn stared at me. "What do you know about that?"

  "Just that some suits were trying to twist Diego's arm into doing something he didn't want to do. It's starting to make sense now, although you guys were there about a week before Molly disappeared. So you weren't trying to find her then."

  "What?" Molly suddenly exclaimed, staring at Thorn. "What were you doing talking to Diego? What were you talking to him about?"

  Thorn shook his head. "It was nothing, kiddo. We were just trying to help things along."

  "Helping things? How?"

  "No, quite the opposite," he said. "Your father's always had trouble courting the Latino vote. Shelly figured a high profile romance might make that constituency more simpatico toward him. Ever since Prop. 178 got passed, Latinos have hated Republicans in this state. Can't blame them really, it was a racist law. We were just trying to move them past that."

  "By doing what?!" Molly shrieked. "Pushing me into a relationship with someone?! So it might help my father get re-elected? How stupid are you guys?!"

  Those were my sentiments also. Every group has its share of people with boneheaded ideas they can't wait to implement. In most organizations, saner heads prevail, and these ideas never see the light of day. But in a tough election, throwing a Hail Mary pass like this one sometimes becomes an option.

  "Look kiddo, your father's in an election ..." Thorn said.

  "I don't care about my absentee father! Or my poor excuse for a mother! You had no business butting your nose into my personal life. This is such crap. I can't believe what I'm hearing. Your actions may have led to Diego being killed!"

  Thorn shook his head. "That had nothing to do with us."

  "You idiots! That had everything to do with you!" she screamed, and then threw her head in her hands and began sobbing. Crystal put her arms around her and stroked her hair. I got the feeling it might have been the first maternal touch she had experienced in quite some time.

  I looked at Thorn. "Nice going there."

  "Hey, bud, I just work for the governor and his staff. They decide this stuff," he said.

  "And he brought his security chief in to talk with Diego?"

  Thorn shrugged. "It's a bad neighborhood at night. Not so good during the day either."

  At that moment, the sound of "America the Beautiful" went off. We all looked around. Sheepishly, Thorn pulled out his cell phone, slid his finger across it and spoke. "Yes, sir. Right. We've got her ... no sir, I can bring her in. All right, if you insist, sir ... yes, the house on Adelaide. I know. You have that rally tonight at the Javelin Club ... yes, it's nearby ... All right. See you in a few."

  "Don't tell me," I said.

  "Yes. The governor will be here soon. He wants to pick up Molly personally."

  I turned to Crystal. "Well, you said you wanted something to perk up your life."

  She nodded. "That old chestnut. Be careful what you wish for."

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, Thorn looking at us, Crystal and I looking at Molly, and Molly looking down at the polished hardwood floors. The doorbell finally rang and Crystal got up to answer it. When she returned, Governor Rex Palmer was in tow. A sober look hung on his otherwise tanned and handsome face.

  "Molly," he said, kneeling down next to her. "I'm glad you're okay."

  "Get away from me," she hissed, not bothering to look up.

  "Listen. Everything's going to be all right."

  "It's not going to be all right," she said in a quivering voice. "It's never been all right. This can't be how life is supposed to be."

  "I'll take you home."

  "I'd rather be dead."

  "You shouldn't say that."

  "I wish I'd never been born then," she said, her voice rising a little. "I think Mom wishes I'd never been born, too."

  "You don't mean that," he said.

  "How do you know what I mean?!" she exploded. "How can you possibly know anything about me?! You've never been around! You just had me because you wanted to show everyone what a great family man you were. I'm not a prop that's put there to help you win an election!"

  "I think we should go," Rex decided, taking Molly's hand. "We'll work all this out later."

  "No!" she recoiled, jerking her hand away.

  I stood up. "I'm sorry. This can't continue."

  Thorn stood up, too. "You don't decide that."

  "Let me get something straight," I said. "The governor wants Molly back with him. So he can show the world she's no longer missing, and what a great father he is, and how he can use her in the campaign. Photo ops, that kind of stuff?"

  Rex Palmer shook his head. "That's a little extreme. The media has been camped out at her grandfather's house today. The world is looking for her. She has to make an appearance."

  "The positive impact on your political campaign notwithstanding," I said, starting to seethe.

  "I won't force her to do what she doesn't want to do. But we need to show the world she's all right "

  "Won't force me?" Molly screamed. "That's what you said last time! And the time before that!"

  I looked at Palmer. "I don't get this. You want her in the campaign. You want her to look happy. You want the world to see a loving father and daughter."

  "What's wrong with that?"

  "It's bull for one thing. But your own father wants her away from the campaign. He doesn't want the world to know anything. Your father's afraid she'll say the wrong thing in public. Maybe let something slip about Nicole's private life."

  Rex's square jaw dropped. "Just what do you know about that?"

  "Pretty much everything."

  "And who do you plan to tell?" he demanded, placing his hands on his hips.

  "I don't plan to tell anyone," I said evenly. "Unless an 18 year-old girl is forced to do something against her will. I don't care whether or not you're the governor, but my sixth sense tells me this isn't the way to be a father."

  Rex Palmer glared at me. "I don't pretend to have a perfect marriage. And Buster and I often disagree on things. But one thing should be perfectly clear. I'm her father and you're not. You don't get to decide where she goes."

  "That's right," I said, and then pointed to Molly. "She does."

  Palmer glanced over at Thorn and made a small motion with his head as if to say it was time to end this conversation. Thorn walked over to me without hesitation.

  "She doesn't get to decide this one," Thorn said. "Not now."

  Molly didn't move. I stared at Thorn and thought back to an old, old saying. If not now, then when. If not us, then whom. I didn't like how this was going. I didn't like that the governor was sending his staff in to spark a teen romance for their own benefit. I didn't like that a young woman was being used as a pawn to help pimp her father's re-election campaign. I didn't like that I was now working for two members of the Palmer family, each with a different agenda, and demanding different things. And I really didn't like Bill Thorn.

  "Molly's not going anywhere," I said. I might not be governor of the state, but I could control my little corner of it. I looked Thorn up and down. He was older than me, but he was about my size and struck me as very fit. And as a former cop, he was not someone to take lightly. All the more reason to get this over with quickl
y.

  Bill Thorn sighed as he started to reach back into his holster. For some reason he thought I wouldn't anticipate it. I reared back and launched an overhand right that landed flush on his jaw. The punch spun him around and sent him down on one knee. For an odd moment I thought of Xavier Bishop and wondered if I could still hit as hard as an all-American cornerback. Thorn started to rise, so I took a step and delivered a solid left to his nose and heard him yelp in pain. He shook his head and looked like he was struggling to maintain consciousness. I stood back for a moment, something you should never do until a conflict has been fully and conclusively decided.

  Seemingly out of nowhere, Thorn sprung forward and slammed his fist into my abdomen. He had done a good job of playing possum and it caught me by surprise. The blow knocked the wind out of me and I went down on one knee. I ducked my head and he clubbed me a few times around the neck and shoulders, not doing any real damage, but it was certainly not something I relished. It did give me a moment to plan my next move. I gathered my strength, took a deep breath and shoved my fist deep into his groin area. This time his yelp wasn't cagey, but rather tinged with agony. Mouth open, he fell to the ground, holding his private parts and writhing on the ground.

  He stayed that way for a few seconds, which gave me more time to gather myself. But then his hand began to slowly move toward his holster. Either Thorn was a great actor or one tough hombre. Maybe both. He drew his service revolver before I could get to him. Still laying on the ground, he pointed the weapon at me in a shaky hand, his teeth clenched, his breath coming in spurts. But before I could decide my next move, a large, hulking figure came up behind him. With a fist the size of a country ham, Serge Markovich hit Thorn viciously on his forearm. The gun fell from Thorn's hand and clattered on the floor. Thorn rolled over in pain and I was fairly certain he wasn't faking this time. I reached down and quickly grabbed the weapon. With my other hand, I reached into his suit pocket and retrieved my .38.

  "Nice to see you again," I said to Markovich. It had been three years since our last encounter, but he appeared to be every bit as vibrant and bulky.

  Markovich looked back at me. "You throw big punch," he boomed, nodding appreciatively.

  "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

  "No person being should enter someone's home and behave like this," he said, and pointed at Palmer and Thorn. "You two have poor manners."

  Rex Palmer's mouth was wide open. Clearly, this wasn't how he figured things would go. Finally he spoke, attempting to assert his control over a situation that had gone far beyond what he had anticipated.

  "This doesn't change anything," Palmer snarled.

  "No, it doesn't," I agreed. "The girl stays."

  "You won't get away with this," Palmer said. "I can have a dozen Santa Monica police officers here in a matter of minutes."

  "That would make a good story," I said. "The cops try and take a young woman against her will. The Times will put that one on the front page."

  Molly glared at her father and spoke in a low but controlled voice. "Dad, if you go through with that, I swear to God I will tell the world everything I know and everything I've seen. About you and about mom. I'm sick of this shit and I want out."

  Palmer surveyed the scene, looking at Molly, looking at me and looking down at Thorn. There was nothing he could really say at this point, nothing he could do to mollify his daughter's anger. Reality seemed to be dawning on him. He had lost his wife to a woman, he was losing an election to an immigrant, and he'd quite possibly lost the love of his daughter. As wealthy as he was, I wouldn't want to be in his shoes right now. But we do reap what we sow. And Rex Palmer's decisions, from marrying a woman he didn't love, to having a child because some people thought that was the right thing to do, to listening to bad advice from ambitious campaign consultants, were now coming back to haunt him.

  Crystal walked over to me. "So what happens now? I gather this wasn't exactly part of the plan."

  "He won't bring the police. But I think I'll need to call my guy at the Times. Just to be safe. In case I need to get our side of the story out."

  "Don't worry," she said. "I have a few contacts in the media, too. I have Wayne to thank for that."

  "Are you okay with looking after Molly for a few days, maybe a week or so?"

  "Sure," she said. "I like her. She needs someone to talk to and I might be someone who could help. At the very least I can listen, and that's a start. And after what I went through, I know a number of very good professionals who can help her."

  "I appreciate that," I said. "And I wish I had called you more. Life, work, it adds up to busy days."

  Crystal waved her hand. "Don't even think about it. But it does get a little lonely here. Wayne and I kept talking about starting a family, but, you know, that never happened. Spending some time with Molly will be fine. In fact, this might be good therapy for both of us."

  "I do feel the need to apologize," I said to her. "I had no clue these guys would turn up, or a brawl would ensue in the middle of your home. I wouldn't have brought you in on this if I thought it would be dangerous."

  "That's all right," she remarked with a slight smile. "Life is always exciting when you're around. I will say that."

  *

  Rex Palmer strode silently out the door, and I followed him to make sure he didn't come back. But there was no hesitation in his gait. He went directly into one of the light blue sedans now double-parked on Adelaide. The car sped off and I went back to tend to Thorn. Helping him up, I escorted him to the door and asked him if he needed any medical attention. He told me to go fuck myself. I took that as a no.

  Leaving Molly and Crystal in the massive, capable hands of Serge Markovich, I drove back home. It was less than half a mile away, but it felt like another world. There was nothing wrong with my neighborhood. Living at 4th and Montana was a very desirable place, the apartment buildings were kept up nicely, the neighbors were friendly. And we were a mere three blocks from the bluffs overlooking one of four oceans in the world. But it was not Adelaide Drive. I thought of the house Gail and I were buying. It was a modest house in a middle-class neighborhood. But it's where we'd start raising a family, and I've always believed a home is what you make it.

  It was a little past 8:00 pm when I walked into our apartment. Gail glanced at her watch and joked I was home early for a change. She was about to give me a kiss when Chewy jumped up and beat her to it.

  "My two favorite girls," I said and gave Gail's belly a soft rub. "I wonder what will happen if there's a third girl on the way."

  "You will be seriously outnumbered, my dear," Gail told me. "Tread carefully."

  "I've learned a lot about young women this week. Young men, too. Some of it good, some not. And I've learned a lot about parenting. Mostly what you shouldn't do."

  "I can't wait to hear," she said, and we sat down on the couch. Chewy tried to jump in between us, but I pushed her away. She glared at me, walked to the edge of the couch and curled up into a ball.

  "Looks like I'll need to make amends with someone," I said, looking over at the furriest member of our family.

  "She'll be fine, she lives in the moment. Doesn't harbor grudges."

  "Good to know."

  "So tell me about your day."

  "Oh, my," I started and detailed my past two days. My encounters with Desiree Brown and Xavier Bishop. And Kristy the screenwriter. With Riley Joyner and Connor Pierce and Alex Gateley. And of course, the elusive Molly Palmer. I talked about how they handled things when the pressure got cranked up. And I thought of my own experience when I was 18. This was a topic I had always skated around with Gail, but after my chat with Buster, it was now about to surface. Gail had never pushed me to talk about it, I guess she figured I'd tell her when the time felt right. And that time was now.

  It wasn't a surprise to Gail that my youth was radically different than the kids I was investigating this week. Molly and her friends were children of privilege, sent to fine school
s, raised by parents who could afford luxuries. But adversity touches everyone. It is like an invisible cloud that floats nearby, wafting in and enveloping you every now and then. You can't avoid it, you can only deal with it. Life makes sure of that.

  Gail knew my father had died before I was born, and my mother went back to school to become a nurse. I had told her that my mother had later died, but I didn't tell her how or when. I didn't like to talk about it. I didn't like to think about it. But this was a week where I was dealing with teenagers, schools, parenting and death. And it all just crystallized when I thought back to the summer right before I enrolled at USC.

  Everything had started off so nicely. I graduated from high school in early June, the weather was warm and life was easy. I had been granted a full scholarship to play football at USC that fall, so my future seemed secure. A few times a week I went onto the SC campus to hit the weight room and run on the track. I met a few other incoming freshmen and we became friends. I worked a few times a week at Dodger Stadium to earn spending money. It was an easy job and a fun job. I got to see baseball games for free, and what could be better than serving people soda and ice cream on a warm night. It was good exercise and I made some new friends there, too.

  But then everything changed. My mother had been feeling unwell for a few months, mostly fatigue and some body aches. In the beginning of July, she began to complain about a pain in her back when she breathed deeply. She thought it was a virus and assumed it would go away. But one morning I woke to see her lying on the floor, struggling to breathe. I called paramedics and they rushed her to the hospital. After she was stabilized, doctors did a chest X-ray and identified a mass on her lung. They ran a PET scan to determine how widespread the cancer was and it lit up like a Christmas tree. There were tumors riddled throughout her body. The doctors said her only option was chemotherapy, something my mother chose to decline. Having spent many years as a nurse, she had seen that chemo wasn't a cure. She felt it was too barbaric, that it didn't prolong life, it only prolonged pain. I spent the next few weeks at her side, helping her and comforting her, but she went quickly. She died during the second week of August.