ON The Run (An Ozzie Novak Thriller, Book 6) (Redemption Thriller Series 18)

by John W. Mefford

  Beard Man tossed me a blanket. I’d been shivering but hadn’t noticed. “You’ve done enough. Let’s leave it to the experts, okay?”

  I didn’t respond in any way. I only looked out across the lake as lights now peppered the dark surface. Every few minutes, the divers would pop out of the water and give a thumbs-down, each one feeling like it was snuffing out the flame of hope that allowed me to breathe, to function.

  After an hour, Beard Man said he needed to head back to the shore and get more tanks for his crew. I wanted to stay, to jump on another boat. In fact, I started yelling and cussing, demanding that he listen to me.

  He grabbed me by the shoulders. “I hate to tell you this, sir, but if she fell off that bridge, she’s probably already dead.”

  “That’s bullshit! Your team is still diving There’s a chance. We need to expand our search.”

  “Sir, sir. Please listen. This is no longer a search-and-rescue mission. We’re looking for a dead body.”

  I felt like all my bones had turned to rubber as my own life took yet another dive. And this time, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see the surface again.

  3

  There were voices all around me, and wind was smacking the plastic sheet that had been erected on the west side of the bridge to block most of the horizontal rain that was still falling from the starless sky. To me, it was all white noise.

  Still wet, I stood under the bridge where the cops had set up a command center for the operation. My eyes were glued to the lake and the surrounding space. Every time a light flashed in one area, I’d swing my neck in that direction, like a cat fixated on the red light from a laser pointer. I counted at least a dozen lights, some very faint along the far shore.

  “Mr. Novak.”

  I didn’t bother turning around. It was a young officer assigned to give me updates every fifteen minutes. This would be the sixth such update since I’d been dropped off at the command center.

  “Sir, we’ve yet to find the body, uh…or any sign of your wife.”

  There was a pause. He pulled around to where I could see him in my peripheral vision. He was young, freckle-faced. Like most of the officers, he was wearing a raincoat and a hat that was covered with clear plastic. His name was Officer Rucker or Tucker or something like that. I couldn’t recall.

  “I know you’re still hoping that we’ll find her alive, but…” He stopped, adjusted his hat, and looked over to the gaggle of people behind me.

  I still didn’t respond. And I damn sure didn’t want to hear another person tell me it was a lost cause.

  “Anyway…” He shuffled his feet. “Detective Valentine is now on-site and in charge of the investigation.”

  “I asked for Porter. Captain Rick Porter.” Initially, I’d actually requested Detective Brook Pressler, a good friend of mine. If there was an Austin Police Department employee who would go to any lengths to find Nicole, it was Brook. But right after Tucker or Rucker had run off to look into Brook’s whereabouts, I’d recalled that Brook had taken a leave of absence. She’d been put through the wringer by a psycho boyfriend. She’d told Nicole and me that she was headed to some unnamed Caribbean island and would be off the grid for a few weeks. And she wasn’t taking her cell phone. At the time, I couldn’t have been more proud of her for recognizing the need to heal. But now I needed her…well, her and an accompanying miracle.

  “Sorry, sir, but Captain Porter was assigned to a task force, and he’s not available to take on new investigations. Valentine is getting debriefed and will speak with you in a moment.”

  I instantly felt unimportant. No Brook, no Porter. I’d just been handed off to some detective scrub. Didn’t anyone understand that this was my fucking wife? Despite the blustery wind, I felt balls of fire behind my eyes. I stared straight ahead, my body as tense as a steel band.

  “Sir, it’s awfully cold out here. Can I get you a coat or a dry blanket?”

  I looked down and saw the wet blanket at my feet. I picked it up, gave it to the officer, my eyes still on the water.

  He mumbled something and walked off. A moment later—hell, it might have been an hour later—a man walked up and introduced himself as Shane Valentine. He extended his hand, but I kept mine at my waist.

  “A few things to go over, Mr. Novak.” He cleared his throat.

  I finally took my eyes off the lake. I could see his Adam’s apple bob out. He was thin, lanky, stood about my height of six-three. His brown hair was parted down the middle, and he had a hook nose. Reminded me of some comedian. I couldn’t recall the name. Again, my memory was mush.

  “Yeah?” I finally spoke.

  “You’ve been getting updates from Officer Tucker.”

  Tucker. Right. “Yeah,” I confirmed in a monotone voice.

  “So, we have more than fifty officers either in the water or along the shore, searching for your wife.”

  “Okay.”

  “And as you know, nothing has turned up.”

  “How long has it been?” I asked, my eyes trained on the lake again.

  “According to the initial nine-one-one call we received, almost two hours. Now, that doesn’t mean your wife is deceased. Maybe she’s injured and lodged behind some log or bush that we haven’t seen. There is still hope.”

  My eyes went to his. He was trying to show confidence, even optimism, but it wasn’t working. I went back to the lake, as if it held some magical power to lift Nicole out of the water and carefully place her next to me.

  God, what I would give to hold her in my arms.

  I felt a tear bubble in my eye. I gritted my teeth and swallowed. “What else do you want from me?”

  “Mr. Novak, we’re already beginning our investigation into the crime. I have detectives on top of the bridge looking for evidence, but they’ve found nothing. Of course, the weather conditions have ruled out any hope of a fingerprint or trace evidence like blood or hair.”

  Him saying the word “blood” pulled my thoughts away from the water and back to what I’d witnessed from my seat at the café. The larger man had assaulted her and then shot her. At least I thought that was what had happened. I reenacted the scene, put myself in Nicole’s shoes, felt the bullets rip into my flesh. I put a hand over one of the bullet wounds and saw blood seep between my fingers. Then, a push over the railing. I was the one tumbling through the air, until I slammed into the water like it was a slab of black concrete. And then I went dark.

  “Mr. Novak, are you, uh…with me?”

  I pinched the corner of my eyes, took in a shaky breath. “Yeah. My late dad is Mr. Novak. Call me Ozzie.”

  “Right. Ozzie. So, I know you’ve provided the basic information about what you saw to two other officers, but it would help me immensely if you could repeat your story to me.”

  I picked up a scent of peppermint as he spoke. I turned to look at him. “You didn’t talk to other witnesses? I ran into at least two people who saw her falling…” My voice trailed off. A deep breath. “A kid who had a skateboard, a lady in a pink jogging suit.”

  He nodded. “Yes, we’ve spoken to them and three other witnesses. Thus far, no one saw anything happening on the bridge. Just her falling—”

  “Are you accusing me of lying?” The timbre of my voice was laced with iron teeth.

  He reset his feet. “Not at all. They only saw a person falling into the lake. They weren’t watching what might have happened on the bridge.”

  “Might?” I could feel my hand ball into a fist.

  He held up a defensive hand. “Mr. Novak…I mean, Ozzie. Please, I’m not against you. All I can share is what we’ve learned thus far. I’m sure other witnesses will come forward. After I speak with you, I’m going to make a brief statement to the press. They’re huddled under a canopy on Congress right now, waiting for me. I’m sure after that, more witnesses will come forward and share what they saw.”

  “You think someone might have watched her being assaulted and shot and didn’t do anything? They should be put in ja
il for fleeing the scene of a crime, or just give them to me and I’ll beat the shit out of them for not doing anything to help my wife.”

  Another surge of emotion. I leaned over, put my hands on my knees, and focused on the water lapping against the bridge’s support column. A moment passed, and I went back to standing. “Sorry,” I said with no energy.

  “I understand, sir.”

  I went ahead and gave him the complete play-by-play of what I’d seen, every last detail that had been permanently etched in my memory.

  “So, you didn’t get a good look at the perpetrator.”

  I shook my head. “I assume it was a man. He was tall, thick, but he was just a silhouette, just like her. There’s got to be cameras down the street, at a business or an intersection, that can pick up his mug, right?”

  “We’re hopeful, but if we see a lot of people on the videos, we need to be able to identify him.” He paused.

  Is he waiting for me to say something?

  Then he said, “I guess for now, we can look for men over six feet tall.”

  “Just takes man hours, unless you’re working alone,” I said.

  “I’ll get Tucker and a couple of others to start searching for video, city-owned and otherwise.” He began to walk away but stopped and looked at me. “You and Nicole…has everything been okay between you two?”

  I should have expected the question. But like everything else in this process, my former experience as a lawyer—and even my brief time as a private investigator—weren’t a lick of help. Those were jobs held by some other twenty-eight-year-old man, not this Ozzie Novak.

  “Fine. Great, even. Today is our one-year anniversary.”

  “Oh, well…” He looked off. It was obvious he wasn’t sure whether to say “Congrats” or “Damn, I’m sorry.”

  I said, “She’d just gotten back from a marketing conference in New York City. We’d just bought a house—”

  “I understand you were separated for a while. She still lived in your old home, and you live in an apartment with your daughter.”

  I could feel an icy patch form on the back of my neck. I tried not to show my disgust at where this conversation was going. “Was that a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “We live in the apartment together. We were separated briefly,” I said, knowing I sounded defensive. “We have two dogs, Baxter and Rainbow, and of course, my daughter, Mackenzie.”

  Oh God, Mackenzie. If Nicole was dead, this would crush my nine-year-old as much as it would crush me—maybe more. She’d already endured the death of her mother, my old high-school girlfriend. Mackenzie had immediately taken to Nicole, although Nicole would probably say she was even more in awe of her.

  “Where’s your new home?”

  “Old West Austin. It’s a 1950s bungalow. Nicole wanted a fixer-upper, one we could remodel with our family in mind.”

  I recalled the moment we’d found our soon-to-be new home. It had three bedrooms. The other home on our short list had only two bedrooms and cost about twenty grand less. When it came to decision time, the two of us alone in the dilapidated kitchen, she said to me, “Oz, I think I’m ready to have a child. Can you deal with more kids?”

  We’d hugged and kissed, and then made love for the first time in our new home.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked.

  “I was thinking about something. What?”

  “Your new home…sounds like a big project, and fun too, if you’re into that kind of thing.”

  I almost smiled. “I’m not. I have no handyman skills to speak of. Nicole, though, is very resourceful. She just figures out how to get stuff done.”

  He popped me on the shoulder, his mood once again somber. “I’m going to brief the press. After that, we could be swarmed with leads. You going to stay here long?”

  “Where else would I go?”

  “I just thought…you know, your daughter and all.”

  She was spending the night at her friend’s house. But in a few hours, I’d have to pick her up. My mouth opened, but no words came out.

  “No rush. I know this is difficult on you.”

  I only nodded, because I couldn’t begin to describe the hole in my gut.

  “We still have hope, Ozzie.”

  Hope. My chin dropped to my chest, and I prayed for a miracle.

  4

  A strange fog hovered about three feet off the muddy grounds of my apartment complex. I closed the door on my Cadillac, shielded my eyes from the low morning sun, and plodded toward the apartment door.

  When I’d left the command center, divers and cops had yet to find any trace of Nicole. With the rain stopping, they were bringing in dogs to see if they could help in the search. Detective Valentine said there was still a possibility she could have drifted to the shore and somehow found a way to safety, out of the weather, maybe with help from a stranger. He said it was possible she’d suffered a concussion from the fall, possibly lost her memory. Then he admitted that scenario was probably not likely and that I should prepare myself that they might not find her at all.

  But I’d known it the moment I saw the body tumbling through the air and splash into the lake. She was gone. Since then, it felt like my heart had been chiseled until there was nothing left but a pile of dust, which was then swept away overnight by the stormy winds.

  I walked into the apartment and was immediately swarmed by Baxter and Rainbow. They jumped on me, licking my face. Baxter, up on his hind legs, appeared to stare into my eyes as if he was wondering why I was so distraught. I’d never been that close to animals. Did he sense that something had happened to Nicole? I put my head against his and rubbed his ears.

  “She’s gone, buddy. She’s not coming back.” Tears bubbled in my eyes. Baxter licked my face, and Rainbow pawed at my waist. I opened the door and let them do their business in the grassy area.

  I knew I had to go pick up Mackenzie, who was three buildings down, at her friend’s place. Ariel had become her best friend since we’d moved in. And her father, Ervin, was a good guy, a good father.

  I dreaded the idea of telling Mackenzie—or anyone, really. I let the dogs back in—I didn’t bother cleaning off their muddy paws—and I just sat on the couch. I spotted a home-remodeling magazine, and then I found one of Nicole’s slippers under the coffee table. I walked into the bedroom, picked up the T-shirt she’d worn two nights ago, and held it against my chest. I took in the smell of her; I didn’t want to forget it. I didn’t want to lose anything about her or what she meant to me.

  They might never find Nicole.

  Not only was she gone…brutally murdered, but they might not ever find her body.

  My throat clamped shut. I couldn’t breathe. I pressed her shirt against my face as the whole scene played out in my head for the hundredth time. I stuck out a hand, as if I could go back in time, reach out and grab her as she flew through the air, and then set her gently on the ground. But even in my mental haze, I knew that would have been too late. I should have been with her on the bridge. We should have taken in the sunset together, watched the bats fly off, and then gone to the restaurant. No one would have harmed her.

  “Why?” I screamed out to no one as more tears materialized.

  It took a few minutes, but I pulled it together, grabbed a water from the fridge, and drank half the bottle. I washed off my face and decided I couldn’t put off the inevitable. I walked outside, slowly made my way down to the Sandbergs’ place, and rang the doorbell.

  Ervin answered the door with a mug of coffee in his hand and a big smile. I could hear the girls giggling in the background.

  I just stood there, my arms hanging at my side. His smile vanished. “Ozzie, what happened?”

  I told him. He hugged me. He’d once shared his story about losing his wife to cancer a few months ago, about how much all the stupid shit in life had clouded his perspective on what really mattered. He, his wife, and Ariel had cherished those last months together. During that time, he began to app
reciate the joy in the little things, to laugh a lot, and even to cry out of happiness. He’d learned to live in the moment. I’d never forgotten that discussion.

  Pick up the pieces, heal, forgive, and learn to live in the moment. And love in the moment. For Nicole. For Mackenzie. For our family.

  But I didn’t have months to prepare for the end. It had happened in mere seconds.

  “Do you need some more time before you tell Mackenzie?”

  “She might hear about it at school. It’s probably all over the media by now. They’re still looking for witnesses,” I said, wiping a hand across my face.

  “Do you want me and Ariel around when you tell her?”

  Decisions. I wasn’t sure what made sense about anything. “I think I’ll tell her alone. We might call you up later. I don’t know how she’s going to react.”

  “Just call if you need us. We’ll be down in five minutes.”

  I took Mackenzie home—the entire walk back, she peppered me with questions. She knew something was up. I couldn’t fake it. When we finally walked into the apartment, we sat on the couch, with the dogs at our feet. I told her what had happened, somehow managing not to break down in front of her. She lunged for me as if I were her life raft—I probably was—and then she bawled her eyes out. She asked lots of questions, cried lots of tears. I cried as well, not just from the loss of Nicole but from seeing my little girl’s heart crushed once again. Baxter and Rainbow both climbed onto the couch, and she hugged the dogs.

  Emotions calmed, I fixed her some breakfast: pancakes, bacon, and some blueberries. She ate most everything on her plate. I ate one piece of bacon and three blueberries. After that, I felt stuffed.

  As we finished up, she reached a hand down and stroked Rainbow’s head. She shifted her gaze across the kitchen and then out into the living room, as if she were imagining this new, forced change in her life. I was right there with her. I couldn’t picture the next few hours, let alone the days, weeks, and months ahead.

  “Do you mind if I tell this to Ariel?”