by Dale Mayer
Eventually Baylor walked back over and handed her a phone. “This is for you. Don’t call anyone please. It’s mostly for us to get in touch with you.”
She accepted it in surprise.
“Okay, we’re leaving now.”
“Fine,” she said. “If I’m lucky, I’ll just go right back to sleep.”
He shook his head at that. “I highly doubt it.”
“I do too,” she said, with a tight smile, “but that’s not the issue. I’ll be fine here.”
He smiled and said, “And you’re sure I can’t go alone, huh?”
“Absolutely not,” she said emphatically.
“Fine,” he said, and, with that, he turned and headed toward the door.
She called out, “Baylor?”
He turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised.
She whispered, “Be careful.”
He smiled, then nodded and said, “I will. Promise.” And, with that, the two men walked out the door.
As soon as the door shut, she hopped out of bed and raced into the living room. It was her own fault, but now she felt such an incredible sense of aloneness that she didn’t quite know what to do with herself. She walked to the window, then stepped to the side and peered out. Darkness was all around her. Shadows with long fingers seemed to reach for her. She sat on the couch, curled up in a corner, and closed her eyes. All she could hope is that they would make it back soon. Almost immediately her phone buzzed. She looked at it and saw a message from Baylor and smiled.
Somebody’s outside looking after you, so relax.
She chuckled out loud, and, with a much happier frame of mind, she grabbed a throw from the back of the couch and spread it out over her and settled down to try to nap again.
*
Downstairs in the entrance hallway, Baylor smiled at Hudson. “How long do you think it took her to get out of bed?”
The two men laughed, and Hudson said, “She would have come out immediately.” They exited the apartment building and headed into the back alley, where they picked up their vehicle and drove down to the other apartments. “Do you really think the brother is the one you found?”
“I was thinking about it. Their features are both quite similar,” he said. “Even in the photos.” He brought out his phone and pulled up the photos, and there was definitely a resemblance.
“We didn’t ask her to identify him with the two brothers beside each other. I don’t know if she would have been able to tell them apart.”
“Good point,” Baylor said. “What do you think this other guy’s game is?”
“I’m wondering if he isn’t some kind of middleman. Somebody might have hired some work done or was looking at getting something done, and I’m wondering who all the players are. I think he’s already pretty entrenched in this field,” he said, “and had some stake in it.”
“Do you think he killed one of the brothers?”
“I think he’s capable of having killed him, but I don’t know if he did or not. Other than getting paid, I don’t know what his endgame is, and I would really like to find out.”
“He won’t like the interference.”
“I know. All the more reason to go give his tail a shake and see what kind of move he makes.”
At that, Hudson just shook his head. “Drop me off here,” he said, pointing to the corner. Baylor quickly pulled over and let his friend out, who looked down and said, “Stay safe.” And with that Hudson shut the door and disappeared into the shadows.
Only a little farther up, Baylor parked the vehicle, popped out, and walked into the apartment building, heading straight up to the floor in question. He went back to the same apartment, thinking it would make sense if this were actually the brother’s hidey-hole apartment because, while Baylor didn’t want to make a judgment on the way the guy lived, it was superclean, as in maybe never even been lived in before. Either that or it was a front.
As he walked up to the apartment, he thought he heard a noise on the inside. Hesitating, he waited a little bit, trying to see if anybody would come out. Sure enough, the doorknob turned, just as Baylor ducked around the corner. And out came the middleman guy Baylor was looking for.
He turned and locked up the door calmly, as if the apartment were his, and then headed down the hallway.
This was Baylor’s opportunity to talk to him, but, at the same time, a part of him wanted to see inside the apartment now and figure out just what the hell this middleman had been doing in there. Baylor waited until the guy disappeared down the hallway, and he quickly let himself in again.
Once inside, he stopped, adjusted to the shadows, and looked around. It looked a little more lived in now, yet not by much. But it’s obvious that unpaid middleman guy had been here for a reason. Food was on the counter, take-out packages neatly cleaned up but not put in the fridge. There was cutlery and a cup, as if this guy were actually living here, but, then again, maybe it was his buddy’s place, or maybe he was just making convenient use of an otherwise empty location. Everybody needed another place to live.
After all, Baylor was doing the same thing himself in the safe house. Nobody was supposed to know about it, and he expected others might have similar places. As he went through the apartment, he realized the drawers were mostly empty, the night tables too, and even the coffee table was bare, so that is likely what this place was—a refuge. A couple fingerprints were on the coffee table, where the take-out food was. He quickly used some plastic in his wallet and took a sample, then photographed it and sent it off to Mason. He had some ways of getting answers that the others didn’t necessarily have the same access to. Still, even with Mason’s extraordinary access, getting a name on these international criminals was rarely a true ID. The bad guys of the world had many, many aliases. Baylor shook his head at the injustice of it all.
And, with that done, Baylor did another quick glance around and slipped out of the apartment. As he headed down the hallway in the same direction that the other guy had left, Baylor dashed down the stairs. Just as he went toward the front door to leave the building, a voice called out from behind him. He turned to see the middleman he’d been chasing was now behind him and holding a handgun.
“What the hell are you doing back here again?” he snarled.
“Wow,” Baylor said. “Is that any way to welcome somebody?”
“There’s no welcome for you here,” he snapped. “What were you doing in the apartment?”
“It occurred to me,” Baylor said, “that maybe the dead guy wasn’t who I thought he was. I was thinking that maybe it was his brother instead.”
At that, the gunman stopped, his eyebrows shooting up. “What?”
It was obvious he hadn’t considered that idea. “Hear me out. Their features are quite similar. Their heights and builds are very much the same. They’re not twins obviously, but, in death, it’s amazing just how much the twisted features can resemble each other even more and throw off the initial impression,” he said.
The gunman shook his head. “I doubt it in this case.”
“Why is that?”
But he didn’t have an answer, or if he did, he wouldn’t share it.
“Did you actually see the body?” he asked the gun-toting middleman.
“I did,” he said.
“So you don’t know for sure. It could have been him or his brother.”
“It has to be him though,” he said.
“Why is that?” Baylor asked, but, at that, the gunman shut up again. “Listen. I get that you have some kind of relationship, even if it’s a business one,” he said, “but you also know how twisted this can get. Plus, death is not only is an ending for some but also an opportunity for others.” At that, the gunman frowned and stared off in the distance. “Particularly if he owes you money or if he was supposed to do something and didn’t, or if he got a better offer.”
At the sound of a better offer, the guy looked almost apoplectic. “He better not have a better offer,” he growled.
“Is his brother in the same industry?”
“No,” he said, “the brother, he’s a good guy.”
“You mean, was.”
He shook his head. “No. That would be a shit move if that’s what he did,” he said. “Horton is a good guy.”
“And the dead guy?”
“That’s Henry,” he said.
“Right, so Henry and Horton are brothers. One is in the industry and got into trouble. The other one has probably been trying to get his brother out of trouble for a long time.” Hence his association with a bad apple brother made Horton seem like a bad apple too. Sad, but easily understood.
“Isn’t that always the way?” the middleman said, fatigue in his voice, as if suddenly tired of everything.
“Look. I get it. It’s not the world that we want to live in, but somehow we got into this, and now it’s almost impossible to get out,” he said. “I just need to make sure that I’ve got the true ID for the dead guy.”
“What do you care about it?”
“He’s been going after a young woman,” Baylor said. “I need to know he can’t go after her anymore.”
The gunman snorted. “God almighty, this guy and his dick. Jesus. He can’t ever seem to make a reasonable decision without getting into trouble.”
“Well, he obviously was doing something for you.”
“He was. And he screwed that up too. But now, if I find out that he’s still alive and that he’s left me holding the bag, I’ll be beyond pissed.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” Baylor said quietly. “That’s not what anybody wants.”
“No, it isn’t, but too often it’s what we end up with. Incompetence, arrogance, and greed.”
Baylor couldn’t argue with that sentiment. He saw it time and time again himself. “And if you were hired by any of the governments involved in this kidnapping,” he said, “the guy who was kidnapped has died.”
There was a sudden silence in the air. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said briskly.
“I know you’re trying to tell me that you don’t know anything about it, but hear me when I tell you that the couple who was kidnapped—the governor and his wife—are dead. Both of them. Which puts those involved up on felony charges.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” he said, waving the gun around, “and you can’t say that I did.”
“Well, the guy you’re looking for? If he survived? … Was he involved in the kidnapping? If so, he’s one of the few who actually survived,” he said.
“Not my problem,” he said, and he took several steps backward.
“Let’s hope you don’t stay in the business,” Baylor said. “Governments can’t afford to let anybody know what they’ve gotten involved in. They often hire contractors to take care of business, but, when something goes bad, you can bet the contractors would be the ones left holding the bag in the end.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the gunman said. “Don’t go walking into that apartment anymore, you hear me?” he snapped. And then, as if uncaring of what Baylor did, he turned and walked away. But there was just enough speed to his step that it was more like running away.
Baylor headed back outside and leaned against the wall in the shadows, studying the surroundings.
Hudson slipped up beside him and asked, “How did that go?”
Baylor quickly reiterated the conversation with his new friend.
“Interesting,” Hudson murmured. “Not exactly definitive but …”
“I know. I don’t think the apartment belongs to either of the brothers. I think it’s this middleman guy’s secondary property.”
“Well, we know all about that too,” he said.
“I need an address for the brother. The good guy. For Horton.”
Hudson pulled out his phone because he had been sent a message earlier. “Here it is,” Hudson said, holding up his phone.
“How far away is it?” Baylor asked.
“Just a few blocks, so let’s go take a look,” Hudson said. “Let’s see if we can ditch a tail on the way. I’m afraid this guy will come after us.”
“I don’t know,” Baylor said. “I don’t think he wants anything to do with us at this point.”
“If he’s smart, he won’t,” he said. “Enough shit is about to hit the fan without more of that.”
“I hear you there.” Baylor sent a quick message to Dane, who was watching the apartment. Any movement on the apartment?
Dane immediately texted back. Nope. All is well.
Baylor looked at Hudson. “Let’s go.” And they slipped away to the new destination.
Chapter 8
Gizella slept fitfully on the couch. When she felt hands slide beneath her and lift her, she opened her eyes to see Baylor, carrying her into the bedroom.
“So you made it, did you?” she murmured. He chuckled, the rumble that rippled under her ear making her smile. “Don’t do that,” she said. “It tickles.” The rumble repeated. She chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you had fun. But was it successful?”
“Very,” he said.
Something in his tone of voice had her shifting in his arms, her eyes open, staring up at him. “Tell me more.”
“Why don’t you go back to sleep?” he said.
“No,” she said, “that’s not happening. At least not now. You’ve just given me enough to keep me awake.”
He rolled his eyes at her. “I haven’t given you anything.”
“True enough. I’ve had to drag every bit out of you,” she said in exasperation. She yawned, as he placed her on the bed. Then she yawned again.
“See? You’re tired. Just try to sleep.”
“No,” she said, “I’m not that tired. Besides, you’re just dying to tell me what you found.”
“I am not,” he said, with a gentle laugh.
“Sure you are,” she said. “You want to show me how smart you are.”
“No, I really don’t,” he said, chuckling still.
“Fine, but did you figure out where and what?”
“Yes,” he said, “although the cops would have to verify.”
“So was it him?”
“Well, it was his brother, so now we’re looking for whoever killed him.”
“And you don’t think it was the brother?”
“I do think it was the brother. I think it was your captor.”
“Ugh. He’s just the kind who would kill his own brother to save his ass. Although I’m not at all happy to know that he’s still alive. I thought I was somewhat safe, and now that’s out the window.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. That’s why I had to figure it out, so we’d know for sure what we were up against.”
She stared out into the early morning light. “What time is it?”
“Five.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Wow,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“Well, we’re working on it,” he said. “I will be soon.”
“I don’t get it,” she asked. “You must be exhausted.”
“Not just yet,” he said, “but soon.”
“Do you have to report in or what?”
“Something like that.” He looked over at her bed and then back at the living room.
She immediately shifted to the side and said, “I’d sleep better if you were here.”
He snorted at that. “I’m not quite ready to crash.”
“Says you,” she said, curling up on the side. “I think you’d sleep much better right now.”
He looked at her, as if considering his options. Finally he sighed and laid down beside her and said, “Now go back to sleep.”
“Only if you do first,” she muttered. But she felt her eyelids starting to close again.
He reached over, gently squeezed her shoulder, and said, “I’m fine, and nobody died tonight.”
She twisted on the bed, so she could look up at him. “Nobody?”
He shook his head. “Nobody. I
didn’t kill anybody.”
She smiled up at him. “Okay. Now I’ll sleep better.” With that, she closed her eyes, curled into him, feeling sleep overtaking her. When he relaxed by her side, he dropped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. She snuggled in and fell asleep.
When she woke the next time, she was alone on the bed again. She wondered how that worked. It’s like she could wake up for the darndest things, but then somebody could actually get up and leave the bedroom, and she didn’t even wake up once. It was so stupid. But it was what it was.
She got up, found the change of clothes and, delighted, stepped into a hot shower. After dressing in the jeans and t-shirt, she brushed out her hair, and rebraided it, before walking back out. She smelled coffee in the kitchen and followed the scent to find Baylor sitting at the table with his laptop, working away.
“Did you get any sleep at all?” she asked.
He looked up, smiled, and said, “I did. I got four solid hours.”
“Wow,” she said, with an eye roll.
He chuckled. “Hey, that’s often all I get on a mission. Sometimes less.”
“You can’t work like that,” she said.
“We’re used to it, and it’s typically fairly short durations.”
She shrugged because there was no point in arguing with him. “Are you also used to working with no coffee?”
“Nope,” he said, “if I have to, I will, but I much prefer having my coffee.” He pointed at the coffeemaker and said, “Help yourself.”
She refilled his cup at the same time and then sat down beside him at the laptop. “Did you get anywhere?”
“Well, we’ve got a list of known associates, and we did check the dead brother, Horton’s, apartment last night, but actually quite a few people were in there. So we’re waiting for it to be empty.”
“People, as in police?”
“As in family mostly,” he said thoughtfully. “No sign of your perv, the presumed killer.”
“Ah, so did this poor dead brother have a wife and kids or something?”
