Dixon

by Kris Michaels

  "What?" Dixon shook his head staring at the building.

  "Your father?"

  "Dad?" He glanced at Joy. "I don't understand."

  "We have found the remains of a body in the house." The police officer offered the information.

  Dixon shook his head and clamped hold of her hand. Joy had to give him credit, the man could act. She almost thought Dixon believed the fucker had come back to life and may have been rambling around the house they'd been living in.

  "What?" Dixon stared at the shell of the house. Fire hoses snaked into the back of The Residence, and smoke poured heavenward from the openings.

  Joy carefully reached down and grabbed the glass lodged in her thigh. She closed her eyes as she pulled it out. Blood started to flow and drip down her leg. "Sir?" Joy made herself look up at the officer. "I think he got hit in the head, and I need stitches.” She lifted her blood-soaked hand.

  "Shit! Shackley, get the paramedics over here!" The other cop that had been talking with the neighbor turned and yelled through the sounds of the first responders.

  Officer Reyes turned to look for the paramedics. Dixon took the opportunity and glanced at her, winked, and then turned toward the building and settled into a blanked-out stare. Okay, so the man was acting. He needed time. Probably. There were a lot of questions that the cops would want answered. How he was going to answer them was beyond her, but the man was resourceful. Her answers would be legit. She went out to dinner with Dixon tonight and saw the ballet. They came back to his place for a good time. She knew nothing about his father and had no idea why someone would want to kill anyone. The interesting part of the evening would be to see what Smith and Dixon were going to say.

  She glanced over at Smith, who was now sitting up. The man's eyes drifted over to Dixon and then to Joy before they returned to Dixon, where they lingered. She lost sight of him when the paramedics sprinted across the distance that separated them. Shit was about to get interesting.

  Dixon let the emergency room physician examine him. He had been hit in the head by something, and the bump was plausible deniability.

  "Well, Mr. Simmons, all things considered, you've been extremely lucky. I'd like to keep you overnight to ensure there are no complications." The old doctor reached for his tablet and swiped across the surface.

  "No thank you, sir. I'll be fine." It would be a frostbitten day in hell before he'd stay in a building that anyone could enter and where security was a joke.

  The man dropped his hand from the small device and narrowed his stare at Dixon. "Do you have someone at home that can look after you? There is a protocol for concussions."

  "My friend, Joy. She was brought in with me. Stitches?" He glanced past the doctor to the other curtained off area where Joy had been wheeled. He’d heard her swear once or twice, so she was obviously fine.

  "I will be able to look after him, too." Smith's voice came from the other direction. Dixon glanced over at the man and winced at the black eye and cut that ran down the side of his face. It was closed with butterfly bandages.

  The doctor pointed at Smith in disbelief. "You need someone to look after you."

  "Joy." Both Dixon and Smith responded at the same time.

  "The woman over there?" The doctor pointed to the curtain. Dixon nodded his head and wanted to chuckle. The doctor had dismissed Joy. Big. Fucking. Mistake. "She needs bed rest–"

  "Mr. Simmons?" Officer Reyes exited Joy's curtained off area.

  Dixon looked at the man and blinked as if he'd never seen him before. "Yes?"

  The man stopped awkwardly and cleared his throat. "Sir, I was on scene and introduced myself."

  "I'm sorry, Officer...I'm really fuzzy on what happened. I remember being in the limo and then..." He glanced at the nurse that was walking down the hallway between curtains. "I was here?"

  "I'm excusing myself now, Mr. Simmons. I meant what I said about needing someone with you tonight if you decide to leave against medical orders."

  Dixon nodded at the doctor and looked over at the cop. "What happened?"

  "Well, sir, there was an explosion at your residence."

  "Yes, the doctor told me. But what happened? Was it a gas leak or something?"

  "I'm not sure, sir. The fire inspector is on scene now. However, we did find a victim in The Residence."

  "A victim?" He sent a surprised glance to Smith who frowned back at him.

  "Yes, sir. A male. Was your father home?"

  "He wasn't supposed to be." Dixon glanced at Smith. "Mr. Smith is his assistant. Was Dad supposed to be home?"

  "No sir, he is in Albany for the next two days. Some sort of political function at the state capital." It was the response they'd worked out if anyone turned up looking for his father. Dixon still hadn't found a way to permanently explain his father's disappearance. If only he could reach out to Guardian. Fuck him, he missed his organization's support.

  "Is there any chance he could have come home early?"

  "I don't think so. Smith, could you call him?" Dixon asked.

  Smith nodded and palmed the phone from his pocket. He hit send and...all eyes turned to the curtained off area where Joy had been taken. She stood barefoot at the curtain's partition wearing a pair of dingy blue scrubs that were rolled up several times, leaving a wide cuff at the bottom of her pant legs. The scrub top almost reached her knees. She held her hand out and looked at the phone that was ringing. "I found this on the sidewalk after the explosion. I thought it was Smith's because he was reaching for his when..."

  "Ma'am, I'll need to take that from you." The cop whipped a plastic evidence bag out of his cargo pocket and had Joy drop the phone into it.

  "Why would my father's phone be at the house?" Dixon glanced at Smith who looked just as shocked as he felt. They'd destroyed the phone his father was carrying. The number Smith had called should have rung through to nothing.

  "Do you think..." Smith reached for the stool beside the cop and plunked his ass down. "Could he have come back?"

  "Would he have driven or would he..."

  "Limo service." Both Smith and Dixon answered at the same time. Joy hobbled up to the side of his bed and grabbed the rail. To the casual observer she looked tiny and traumatized. Dixon knew better.

  "Which one?"

  Smith gave him the name of the limo service Dixon had used tonight. His thoughts raced. Could this be Guardian giving him an alibi? It had to be. The dead body, trace evidence...shit, was Jason still giving him high cover?

  "Sir?"

  Dixon flicked his eyes up to the officer. He'd zoned out. Fuck. He wiped his face with his hand. "Sorry officer, I was... What did you say?"

  "Where will you be going, in case we need to contact you?" Officer Reyes repeated the question for him.

  "I have an apartment." He rattled off the address and covered Joy's hand with his. "We will be there. Smith?"

  "I'll be with them, or I'll be at my apartment." The man rattled off another address.

  "One more question, why did you go to your father's residence tonight?" Reyes' eyes cut to him, sharp and intense.

  "He was out of town, and my apartment isn't as close to downtown. I use the upstairs bedroom most nights. He doesn't have a problem with it." Because the motherfucker was dead.

  "He?"

  "Sorry, my father," Dixon answered.

  "And you, sir?" He turned his gaze to Smith.

  "I forgot that Mr. Simmons, the senior, wanted me to go through some documents before his morning meeting. He asked me to confirm the numbers he was given...I was returning to do that."

  "Do you think it was him?" Dixon looked at the officer. He whispered the question in hopes of making the man believe he gave a shit.

  "We don't know, sir. We shouldn't speculate, and you need rest. The three of you are very lucky the explosion didn't kill you, too. Our detectives will be in contact. The district is stretched thin. I'll give them this initial information while they work the scene. You can expect a visit from them. I'
m sure they will have questions." He closed his small spiral notebook, sealed the baggie with the phone in it, pocketed both and nodded as he left.

  Dixon watched the cop leave and waited impatiently as the doctor was found to fill out his and Smith's discharge paperwork, against medical orders, and waited while the nurse ran Joy through the concussion protocol. Smith sat stoically through the process, although his face had gone ashen, and he looked like hell. They hobbled out of the emergency room together.

  "Where to?" Joy asked when she turned to him. Her mink was filthy, but it would keep her warm against the winter night. She'd shoved her feet into sneakers that were three sizes too big. A nurse had pulled them from the lost and found for her. Dixon didn't even want to think where they may have come from.

  "My apartment. Smith, I think for tonight it would behoove all of us to stay together." Dixon glanced at the Uber app on his phone. Their car was almost to the emergency room entrance.

  "Strength in numbers," Smith muttered.

  "Something like that," Dixon confirmed. The explosion, the dead man in the house, a phone that wasn't his fathers but was? Either Guardian was watching out for him, or someone was setting him up. He had no way of confirming either hypothesis. He trusted one person unconditionally, and he didn't have access to him.

  They got into the SUV that picked them up. Smith in the front and Joy in the back with him. She leaned against him, and he tucked her under his arm. The driver confirmed his apartment address, and they took off. Dixon stared out the backseat window. Smith was his father's employee. He didn't know squat about the man, but it was apparent someone wanted him at the house. He hadn't sent that text, and he hadn't actually seen the text to validate that Smith was telling the truth. He didn't know how they masked it with his number, but he'd find out.

  If they'd gone into the house, they would all be dead. As it was, they were extremely lucky Smith had shown up, just preventing them from going inside. Dixon glanced down at Joy. Her head rested on his chest, and her eyes were closed. Her long dark lashes rested on her cheeks. He wanted to believe she wasn't involved with the events of the night. His gut told him she wasn't, just like it was telling him Smith had no idea what was happening.

  The strands of the deadly web that surrounded him flashed as each strand connected to the other. He was standing at the center of those silk strings. He could feel the spider's weight as it approached. The fabric around him moved with each circumstance that presented itself, but he couldn't see where the damn spider was coming from, and that was a major concern.

  They exited the vehicle and made their way to his small apartment. "Joy, you use the shower first, then Smith. I'll order food." There was nothing in the place except for the dishes in the cupboard. Joy dropped her mink on the chair and headed back to his only bathroom. She flicked the heat on as she passed the thermostat.

  "She's been here before." Smith sat down on a stool at the counter in the kitchen.

  "Many times."

  "Is she...important to you?" Smith's head rested against his fist. His eyes were closed, and it looked as if he was struggling to stay awake.

  "She's...interesting to me. You know as well as I do that getting close to anyone is risky." Dixon saw the man's eyes open and slide to where he stood. The pain reflected there was almost palpable.

  "I've never had anyone. If she could be important, you need to make sure she stays safe. Send her away from this shit." The man rolled his shoulders and blinked at the oversized recliner. "Mind if I relax in that?"

  "Go ahead. Do you want me to wake you for food?" Dixon glanced at the clock. It was nearly four in the morning. Thank God for a city that never slept and had food delivery around the clock.

  "Yeah, sure, as long as it is after ten or so." He got up and dropped his overcoat onto the stool he was sitting on. "I don't have double vision or nausea. The concussion isn't bad. I just need to sleep it off."

  "You got it." Dixon watched the man sink into the recliner, kick the footrest out and lean back. Dixon did his rounds and inspected the small apartment for any unwanted electronics. He checked all the logical locations and a few where he'd place a device if he was setting up the joint. Nothing. Smith's heavy breathing sounded from the front room as he inspected everywhere but the bathroom. If someone bugged that room, they were stupid, but he'd check it before he showered. He shuffled through the flyers in the drawer and pulled two, one was from the corner bodega that stayed open all night. He'd place a grocery order. God only knew how long they'd be here. The shower turned off while he was on the phone finalizing his delivery. Joy walked out a couple minutes later. Her wet hair hung past her shoulders and was tossed from a towel drying. She had wrapped herself in a pale-yellow fleece blanket that had been tucked in the hall closet the day he moved in. It swaddled her and dragged on the floor, trailing behind her.

  "I seem to be out of clothes, and I don't have a comb. You wouldn't happen to have one, would you?" She gathered the blanket and wiggled up onto the stool across from him.

  "Afraid not. Do you have a place? I'm assuming you have one where you keep clothes and such." Weapons, knives, telephones. Dixon mentally ticked off the list of things he'd have in an apartment, at least if he had one his father or enemies wouldn't search.

  "Yeah. I'll go there in a little bit." She glanced over at Smith. He was asleep, and there was no faking it. The man's mouth hung open, and he was snoring. "We should probably talk."

  "Where do you want to start?"

  "Did you sweep the apartment?" Joy countered.

  "Everywhere but the bathroom."

  "I did that. Nothing that I could find." She wrapped a length of the blanket around her shoulders as Dixon took a stool beside her. They both stared at Smith. "Did you see the text he said he received?" Joy lowered her voice even though there didn't appear to be any need.

  Dixon glanced at the man's coat. He lifted it by the collar and patted the pockets down until he found the phone. The screen was locked, but it took less than a minute for him to bypass the safeguard.

  "Impressive, Mr. Simmons."

  "Child's play, Ms. Nguyen." Dixon sent Smith a long look before he hit the text icon. There were two threads on the phone. The identifier labeled one contact as The Boss. There was only one text and it read

  < carry on as directed>

  with no reply from Smith. It was dated the day Dixon's sperm donor died. He glanced at the time. About three hours before the event. The second was from his phone. It simply read,

 

  "Is that actually your number?" Joy asked, and Dixon hit the info button to check. It wasn't his number, yet his name was attached to it. He glanced over at Smith. The man pretended he wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, but he was savvy. He had street smarts, and he'd been able to exist around his old man for as long as Dixon had, so the wrong number on his phone labeled with his name was confusing and concerning. Dixon reached across the counter, grabbed his phone and sent a text to Smith's phone. It went through, and his name was also displayed. He toggled back to the first text message and showed the screen to Joy. “There’s a space between the D and the I in my name which allowed someone to send a text that Smith believed was from me.”

  "Well, that would do it. They couldn't have sent the text to him from your phone because you had it with you, so somehow they manipulated his phone without him knowing about it and sent a text."

  "Could be." Dixon placed Smith's phone on the counter along with his. "Or it could be he's in on the plan to kill me."

  "Us." Joy interjected.

  "Maybe." Dixon glanced at her when she whipped her head around to meet his gaze.

  "Say what now?"

  "We have a dead body in the remains of the house. Cops believe it is my old man."

  "But it's not."

  "Obviously, but I want to see what the cops say. If the people who I'm working with are behind the event, and they want to frame me, the cops will show up here and arrest me."<
br />
  "If not?"

  "Then they're giving me legitimacy. The old man dies in a tragic accident, and I garner the sympathy of the city."

  "Ingenious."

  "That it is."

  "Which do you think it is?"

  "My gut is telling me it is the latter. Not sure who would benefit from them framing me. The seat would go vacant, and the vote they want won't happen."

  "Vote?"

  Dixon smiled down at her and nodded. "Many, many threads being weaved, my dear."

  "But what could the motive be?" Joy bit her bottom lip a second. "Is there some sort of reason you'd kill your old man? I mean a will that named you heir or something?"

  "Not that I'm aware of and now with the house up in smoke, I'll probably never know." He'd searched the bastard's safes. There wasn't a will at the house. Justin had opened the safes the same day as the downstairs security system had been disabled, and they'd gained access to the basement. All he had to do was turn the handle, and the doors swung unobstructed. He'd never give Justin shit again as long as he lived. The man was a genius.

  "I admit I'm confused. I keep thinking if they wanted us dead, why not wait a couple hours? We would have been in the house. We'd be toast. And why send Smith?" She dropped her elbows to the counter behind her and leaned back still watching Smith sleep.

  "Too many questions and not enough answers." Dixon agreed.

  Joy sighed and shook her head. "Go shower. I'll stand watch over the bear in the chair and answer the door if the delivery people show up."

  Dixon glanced over at her. "In that?"

  "Shit, dude, this is New York. I'm sure these delivery guys working the late shift have seen it all." She pointed to the bathroom. "Go. I got us covered."

  Dixon stood and felt every muscle complain. "Sorry about the sudden end to our date."

  Her eyes lifted to his. "Date? Quick Draw, we don't date. Remember?"

  Dixon chuckled and leaned down to place a soft kiss on her lips. "Seems my rules have changed." He winked at her as he lifted away and headed toward the bathroom. The shell-shocked look he got was not the expression he was hoping for. He stepped into the bathroom as he heard her call his name in a whisper. He backed out so he could see her.