by Cade Brogan
A taxi driver pulled up in front of the neighbor’s house and honked.
A street sweeper made his way down the block.
And a white sedan sped off.
*
Rylee got out, slipping on her jacket, and adjusting her firearm.
“I don’t know how you stand it,” Claire said, “wearing a coat in this weather. I’d be sweating my ass off.”
“You’d get used to it if you wore a shoulder holster.”
“Yeah, but why would I want to when I could carry on my hip and be comfortable? Why do you wear one?”
“At first,” Rylee responded, “it was because having it on my shoulder distributed the weight to my upper body.” She looked over, her tone lowering. “I had back problems after I got shot. By the time they got better, I kind of liked it, liked the feel of a gun under my arm.”
“Huh. I might have to try one sometime.”
“It’ll really speed up your draw, especially if you’re in a seatbelt,” Rylee continued, “but you gotta watch that your finger stays off the trigger.” She winked. “The muzzle’s angled up toward your armpit. Pull it by accident, and you hit your brachial artery.”
“Ouch,” Claire responded. “I think I’ll keep mine on my hip if you don’t mind.”
“Rule number one, never change something that’s working for you,” Rylee said, “especially something that has to do with your gun.” She took a breath, her stomach going rock hard, and her voice lowering. “I want to see what they know about Abby before we tell ‘em that Piper’s dead.”
“Makes sense,” Claire responded, making her way around bags of garbage to get to the stairwell, “because once they get the news, they’re probably done talking.”
When Rylee knocked on the second-floor door, she stood back. They waited three minutes before an African American male in his mid-forties answered.
“Help you with something?”
“Mr. Attwater?”
“Ain’t no Mr. Attwater. Now, you ask for Ms. Attwater, and I’ll tell you she ain’t home.”
Rylee smiled. Smart ass. “Are you Piper Attwater’s dad?”
“Who wants to know?” he asked, tugging his ribbed undershirt over his oversized belly.
“Detective Hayes,” Rylee responded, showing her badge. “And my partner, Detective Robbins.”
“Okay, okay, I’m her dad,” the smart ass answered, smirking again. “So, what’d she do this time?”
“You mind if we come in, Mr—”
“Smith.”
“You mind if we come in… Mr. Smith?”
“Hey, Piper,” he bellowed, leaving them in the hallway, “you get your ass outta bed and get the fuck out here. You got cops wantin’ to talk to ya.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PatientZero.com
ON THE VERGE OF PANDEMIC
An anonymous public health official has admitted to a dangerous mutation of the Armageddon Virus, allowing it to infiltrate human lungs. This discovery of air-borne transmission was made during the most recent round of autopsies and could “cause a devastating viral outbreak with mortality rates higher than any on record." According to the same source, and confirmed by an independent expert, it is "highly unlikely" that this mutation occurred naturally, fueling fears that the Chi-town Spree Killer is a scientist "playing God," a scientist who is determined to unleash a human-made global pandemic. An official announcement will be forthcoming. In the meantime, we urge you to keep public contact to a minimum, eliminate public outings as much as possible, and assure that you have at least a thirty-day supply of food and water. Count on us to post updates as they become available.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Shit.”
“What?”
“This,” Rylee said, handing her phone to Claire.
Claire furrowed her brow, reading. “You’d think they could’ve given us a heads-up before talking to the press,” she muttered, handing it back.
“They would have if it had been an approved press release,” Rylee responded. “We have pretty good people to work with, people who don’t make our jobs harder if they can help it. When you get to know them better, you’ll see what I’m talking about.” She pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “But leaks happen,” she continued, “and heaven knows we have our share. Sometimes there’s nothing you can do about them but react. My guess, some do-gooder down the chain seized an opportunity, thinking he was saving the world, without considering the importance of planning.” She looked over, momentarily meeting her gaze. “I look for panic in the streets before we finish our shift.”
“Yep,” Claire said. “And in the grocery stores, especially in low-income areas.”
“Sad,” Rylee responded, “that we’ll be arresting people over bottles of water and cans of soup before the day’s end.”
“Yeah, sad,” Claire said. “Just goes to show that having a fancy degree doesn’t mean you have common sense.”
“Nope, it sure doesn’t,” Rylee responded. “You’d think someone as smart as the science guys would know that grocery stores need time to get enough food and water on their shelves to last a city this size for thirty days. Not having enough does nothing more than scare people to death.”
“And even if there was enough,” Claire added, “there’s gonna be people, a lot of ‘em, who can’t afford to buy a month’s supply of anything. I mean, a lot of people live paycheck to paycheck.”
“It’s a bad situation, that’s for sure,” Rylee said, crossing a familiar intersection. “Hey, you mind if I swing by home for a minute?”
“No, not at all,” Claire answered, checking her watch. “But you know what, I should too, so how about you drop me off at my car? Then we can meet up after lunch?”
Rylee nodded, rolling down the ramp, and merging onto the Dan Ryan. “Sounds good,” she answered, falling silent as her thoughts returned to Piper—You can stop yelling, Mr. Smith, because she’s not in her bedroom. She was out last night, in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I’m so sorry…I’m so, so sorry to inform you that she succumbed to the virus. She’s not in her bedroom, Mr. Smith, she’s at the morgue. Her words had upset him, but not nearly enough. And when he’d claimed not to know how to reach Piper’s mother, she’d known he was lying. All of it, it broke her heart—that Piper had had it so rough; that she’d died so young; and that when she found Abby—and she would find her—she’d be heartbroken as well.
As if a mind-reader, Claire spoke up. “So, do you think Abby was at Piper’s last night?”
“No,” Rylee answered, replaying the dad’s denial in her mind. “At least I don’t think Smith saw her.” She exhaled. “But then again, would he even have noticed?”
“I don’t think so,” Claire answered. “If he got home from work at six, as he said, I figure he was plastered by seven o’clock.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“You believe what he said about Piper’s mom being gone?” Claire asked. “I mean because the guy lied about everything else.”
“Yeah, I know,” Rylee responded, “but I believe him on that one. Mainly, because I have the feeling she’s a hooker in the red-light district, and if I’m right, he’d cover for her, you know, tell us she was home when she wasn’t.” She curled her upper lip. “Man… talk about neglect, that poor kid didn’t have a chance.”
“Kids,” Claire corrected. “You think we should call the hotline, make a child neglect report?”
“Yeah, probably. Won’t help Piper, but maybe they can get services in there, give ‘em a parenting class, some alcohol treatment, maybe help her little brother.”
“I’ll call it in on my way home,” Claire responded, opening her door.
She pitched in, pulled her weight, that’s one thing Rylee could say for her. “See you at one,” Rylee said, pulling off.
*
“Afternoon,” Elizabeth greeted, passing the next-door neighbor on the stairwell. Her nod was curt, but her tone was pleasant, her plan
ts leaving her in the best of moods. She picked up her newspaper, singing the lyrics of her favorite gospel tune, “Lord, I’m bowing in obedience… Yes, I’m bowing in obedience…Oh, I’m bowing in obedience to You.” Snuggles lifted his head when she unlocked the door. “You stay away from me,” she snarled, “and I’ll stay away from you.” She caught her breath, reading the headline for the lead story—NINETY-TWO-YEAR-OLD AND THREE TEENAGERS FOUND DEAD AT LOVING ARMS. She held her breath, dialing what had become a familiar number.
“We’re so sorry to have missed your call. Please be assured that at Loving Arms, your loved one is our number one priority. If you wish, leave your name and number after the tone, and we’ll call you back as soon as one of our staff becomes available…BEEP.”
“This is Dr. J—Dr. Elizabeth Fields. I just learned that you lost a patient last night, a patient who had better not have been my beloved grandmother. Call me before you do anything else.” With that, she rattled off her number and went in to take a shower.
*
Claire turned the deadbolt. “Elizabeth…Elizabeth, are you home?” she called out, pausing to scratch Snuggles’ belly as she made her way past the sofa. At the sound of water, she headed for the bedroom, seeing a glimmer of light peeking out from underneath the bathroom door. Before she could knock, it opened—allowing a glimpse of Elizabeth without clothing.
“Out!” Elizabeth screeched, slamming the door. “Get out! Get out of here, right now!”
Claire caught her breath. “I’m going,” she said softly. “I’m going, just calm down.”
*
“I take it she’s not home,” Rylee greeted, coming through the door with brown bags in both arms.
“No,” Kenzie answered, “and I’ve called everyone I can think of.” She followed along. “I think we need to make a police report.”
“Not anymore we don’t,” Rylee responded, setting what she hoped was a month’s supply of food on the counter. “I have groceries for Grams and Gramps that need to be brought in. When I get back, I’ll explain.”
Kenzie followed her to the porch. “You know something about Abby?”
“Not that much,” Rylee said, stepping onto the bed of her pickup. “But I have news about Piper. Let me set these down, and we’ll talk.”
Kenzie rested her hands on her hips. “You promised that you’d call me.”
“Yeah, if I knew something,” Rylee responded. “But I don’t. At least I don’t know that much.” She touched Kenzie’s back, guiding her toward the sofa. “That, and I wanted to talk with you in person.”
“So, it’s bad then,” Kenzie said, reading her like a book.
“Especially for Piper,” Rylee answered. “Found her dead this morning at that new senior facility, Loving Arms. No clue what she was doing there in the middle of the night. Best guess, she came in contact with the virus on her way there and died before she could get inside. We should know more after the autopsy.”
Kenzie’s lower lip quivered. “And Abby, was she with her?”
Rylee shook her head, momentarily breaking eye contact. “No, we don’t believe so.”
“Don’t believe so?” Kenzie peeped. “That means you think there’s a chance that she was.”
“No, it just means that we can’t be one-hundred percent sure that she wasn’t,” Rylee said softly, hating to admit to the slight chance that Abby had been at Piper’s house. “Hardly anything’s one-hundred percent when it comes to homicides.”
“Homicides,” Kenzie squeaked, her eyes teeming with tears. “I can’t lose her. I can’t lose my only daughter.”
“You’re not gonna lose her,” Rylee responded. “We found Piper with two girls I’ve never seen before. If they’d been kids Abby hung around with; I’d have recognized them.” She stroked her cheek with the back of her hand. “Honey, I promise you, there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, to make us think that Abby was with them.”
“But she snuck out,” Kenzie whimpered, “and the only reason she’d have done that was to be with Piper. I know that. I know that much for sure.” She buried her face in her hands. “I can’t lose her, Rye. I just can’t lose her.”
“It’ll be okay,” Rylee said, peering into her eyes. “We’re not gonna lose her.” She swallowed, feeling the weight of her words. “We’re not gonna lose our girl. She’s out there, and I’ll find her.” Dear Lord, please let her be alive. She glanced at her watch, feeling sick to her stomach. “Crap, it’s almost one, I’ve gotta get back.” She grimaced. “But I don’t want to go.”
“It’s okay,” Kenzie said, kissing her lips. “Go. I’m alright. I feel better knowing that you’re out there looking for Abby.”
“How about if I call Grams and Gramps?” Rylee asked. “See if they’ll come over and hang out?”
“That’d be nice,” Kenzie responded, catching sight of her phone, and realizing that it had been more than fifteen minutes since she’d called Abby’s number. “While you call them, I’m gonna try Abby one more time,” she said, pressing speaker, and dialing.
“Good idea,” Rylee responded. “Keep trying.” She furrowed her brow, locking gazes with Kenzie when a man with a familiar New York accent answered her call. “Frank? Frank Hopper?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Hayes,” Rylee said, her heart freezing between thumps, “Hayes, from Homicide... I—uh—I—uh—need to hang up and call you right back.”
*
“Abby’s phone was inside Piper’s bag,” Rylee said, stepping in from the porch. “That’s all I know.” She touched Kenzie’s cheek, her tone softening as she kissed her forehead. “I have a one o’clock with Ben, but after that, I’ll head over to the crime lab. Frank just started with the bag, so by then, he should know more. I’ll call you when I know something. I promise.”
Kenzie nodded, tears falling.
“God,” Rylee groaned, her heart aching beyond the confines of the organ. “I hate to leave you like this. You have to know that if I could, I’d stay home and hold you.”
“I do, but I’m okay,” Kenzie responded, saying it when it wasn’t so. “I am. You have a job to do, and you need to go.” She forced a thin smile. “Your grandma and grandpa will be here any moment. We’ll plant redbuds, fill out place cards, and wait for your call.” Pre-made wedding favors would’ve been so much easier, but right now they were both thankful that Kenzie had this project to keep her occupied. “Now go on, don’t worry about me. You’ve got enough to worry about.”
“Okay, I’m going,” Rylee said, kissing her. “I’ll call you.”
*
Kenzie climbed the stairs, collecting Abby’s stuffed Teddy as she sat down on her bed. So, grown up, and yet, such a little girl. As she buried her face in his fluffy brown fur, she entertained the thought that God might be punishing her. God does not punish people for who they love, she reminded herself, closing her eyes, and praying that it was so. She’s in your hands, Lord. Please, I beg you, bring her home safely. She rested Teddy’s head on Abby’s pillow, smoothed the patchwork quilt she’d made for her last summer, and when the doorbell rang, made her way downstairs to answer. “Hey, you two,” she greeted, tears behind her smile. “I’m glad you came over.”
“Aw, sweetie,” Gladys responded, gathering her in for a hug. “I’m sure Abby’s fine. She’s probably just gotten off somewhere like kids do from time to time.”
“Remember that night Rylee took off?” Omar asked, meeting his wife’s eye.
“You bet I do,” Gladys answered. “And she does too, just ask her.”
Omar chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure she does,” he responded. “You know that’s the only time I ever got out the paddle?”
“I know,” Gladys said. “I could hardly believe it when I saw it. And then when you finished with that, you grounded her for the entire month.”
“Yes, I did,” Omar said with a firm nod. “I had visions of finding her in a ditch the whole damn night. If you ask me, she deserved a helluva lot more than t
en licks and a month.”
“She did scare us half to death, that’s for sure,” Gladys continued, “and we searched for her for hours upon hours. It was daybreak before we finally found her.”
“And by the time we did,” Omar said, “you were certain she’d been kidnapped by a serial killer.”
Gladys nodded. “But that’s not how it turned out.”
“No,” Omar said, “because most things don’t materialize like we fear they will.”
“So, where was she?” Kenzie asked, feeling better.
“As it turned out,” Omar answered, “she’d snuck off with my floodlight around midnight, thinking she’d gig for catfish.” He shook his head. “Kids. She got this crazy idea that they’d be hungrier in the wee hours of the morning.”
“Sounds like Rylee,” Kenzie responded, stepping toward the kitchen. “I made some lemonade,” she said. “Or if you’d rather, I have iced tea or coffee. You want something?”
“Lemonade sounds wonderful,” Gladys answered. “And after that,” she continued, “we want to see your little forest of wedding favors.” She smiled. “Rylee says they’re as cute as anything she’s seen for a long time.”
“Come on, I’ll show you,” Kenzie said, smiling. “They’re in the sunroom.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
ChiTownBreakingNews.com
BREAKING NEWS
Riots erupt outside area grocery stores as desperate shoppers fight over remaining items with one eyewitness describing her fellow shoppers as “people behaving like wild animals.” When asked to provide specific details, she reported seeing one young woman being yanked out of the way by her hair, an elderly man take a blow to his head, and several customers with bloody knuckles. In other related news, businesses across the city are closing their doors due to staff shortage. “I just don’t believe they all have the flu,” one manager said. “I think they’re staying home, scared after the recent public health warnings. They’d rather call in sick and risk losing their jobs than risk exposure to the Armageddon Virus. I can’t say that I blame them.”
