Albatross (14 page)

Burns resisted the impulse to immediately assist David. Instead, he waited. Burns found waiting difficult. It was a new experience, too. It was not long before a new target came out of the shadows of the house across the street and started to walk slowly and carefully toward David, who seemed to be moving slightly. His target, who had also seen movement from David, dropped into a crouched position as he moved. He drew a gun and aimed at the barely moving therapist.

Burns had to make a decision—either let the target kill David or kill the target first. In a past life, Burns would had simply let the target kill his objective. Then his target would relax and leave, Burns would simply follow. That was the plan. Burns took another approach, one that was driven out of emotion rather than the cold, rational logic he was known for in critical missions. Completely out of character, Burns emerged from the edge of the neighboring house, aimed, and shot the target directly in the side of the shoulder. The target was thrown off balance. Two quick shots in the chest, and Burns was positive that his target was dead before he hit the ground.

Burns made his way around the fire and found David, who was either dead or unconscious. Glass and metal peppered his body and face. Though not lethal, the cuts on the face and near the eyes would have to be addressed quickly.

Burns checked David’s vitals. They were there.
Tough, old bastard
, Burns thought. Next, Burns rifled through David’s pockets and produced a smart phone. Next, he took David’s watch, bracelet, and pen and threw them near the burning car. Burns was about to throw the cell phone into the fire too, but then he decided to keep it. It was a burn phone. The smart phone was David’s, so this phone was not either. Maybe it was important. Burns slid it into his pocket. Burns then turned and walked to the man he had shot. He picked him up, carried him, got as close as he could to the flames, and threw the body into the burning car. Burns gently tossed the explosive he had taken with him where he had thrown the body as well. Burns picked David up and carried him to the target’s car across the street. Burns was aware that David’s injuries were pressing on his shoulders and back and that they had to hurt David. There was no choice. Finally, Burns made it to the car and could lay David on the backseat.
That has to be more comfortable for his former therapist
, Burns speculated. Burns entered the car as well, took the wheel, and started to drive out. Once at the top of the street, Burns triggered the explosive and created a second explosion. This would make the recovery of any bodies next to impossible. Hopefully, they would think the Caulfields were dead, and whoever had sent the hit men may think their guy had gone underground after he had completed the job.

Burns pulled up to his first car, which he had parked on the adjacent street. He got out and casually pulled the duffel bag luggage from the first car’s trunk and placed it in his new ride. Burns carefully pulled away, all eyes were on the burning inferno the next street over.

For Burns, this whole affair seemed normal with one exception: he had no memory of ever saving someone’s life. This was new. It was not a bad feeling but a new one. Then he thought about it some more. Burns had to acknowledge that he was actually happy to have saved David’s life. He also noted that he regretted not being able to save David’s wife. Burns was sure that this happy feeling and the regret associated with his actions were rare at best.

Samantha awoke with a sharp intake of air. It took her a moment to orient herself and remember that she was on a bus heading west. She also felt pain. Her wrists hurt but nothing like her backside. She had disposed of the knife, cell, and other materials at one of the bus stops. She had had an opportunity to get Wi-Fi and powered up her laptop. Her plan was to go to Madison, Wisconsin. She had been there before, and the people were nice, the cost of living low. Finding employment would be easier than on the East Coast. Her foster sister might come and visit her there as well. It would be nice to see a friendly face. Samantha logged on to her “escort page” site to check the boards in the area when she noticed private messages for Amber. The first one was about a week old, and there were three recent ones in rapid successions. Samantha’s heart dropped. Samantha and her sister, Becky, always had a communication system in place: if the phone numbers changed, Becky would contact Samantha’s work e-mail, which was on this escort site. Because Amber was the middle name Becky had given her, it made sense for her to contact her this way. If Samantha had to get a hold of Becky, there were at least two e-mail addresses, a home phone, and a cell phone she could use to contact her. Because Becky was a paralegal and lived close to her parents just outside of Lansing, Ohio, finding Becky would be less of an issue. Becky’s first e-mail read, “Hi, kiddo! Everything is all right, but I need some advice about Tony. The number is the same so call. Luv, B!” The second e-mail came three days after and was direr: “Heading to Syracuse, New York, to that college you got in but never went. Things are bad.” The last one had been sent last night: “Will have to move soon. Call ASAP. Still in the town of the college.”

Samantha got on her cell and called. The line picked up, but there was no answer. Barely able to breath, Samantha said, “Becky?”

A sharp intake of air, and then she heard her foster sister’s voice.

“Thank God! Where have you been?” Becky cried.

“What’s wrong?” Samantha pressed. The urgency in Becky’s voice made Samantha forget about her immediate pain.

“Tony and his girlfriend are dead. His girlfriend was in some kind of trouble with the mob, and they are dead—” Becky started to cry more.

“Becky … I need you to tell me where you are and what happened,” Samantha pushed. Samantha’s ability to isolate her emotions during crisis was excellent in times of emergency. It helped when she worked the emergency room; it more than helped when prostituting. It did, however, keep her emotionally removed from people who loved her. That was a drawback she often thought about. Samantha frequently wondered what it might be like to feel real closeness. Samantha pushed these thoughts out and focused on the crisis at hand.

Samantha noticed that Becky started to get control of her breath and started to pace it better. It took a minute and then she began very rapidly, “I am at the hotel we stayed at when you looked at that college. I was going to leave today if I hadn’t heard from you.”

“What’s going on?” Samantha’s said firmly.

“Tony had been seeing this girl for about eight months. She was pregnant with some other guy’s kid she used to see. Tony was always a sucker for girls who needed help. They start dating. It starts getting serious. She has the kid, and he’s really happy. One day, he brings the baby over for me to watch her right before I am on my way to work. I’m all pissed off, but I call in sick and watch the critter. I don’t hear from him. I call his cell from my house, and after a while, I go to his apartment, where there are cops everywhere. I find out from the landlord’s wife, who’s crying and shit, that Tony and his girlfriend are dead and they are looking for the child. I head home, and there are some pretty mean-looking guys. Gotta be from the mob, so I go to a hotel and try to think. I turn on the news, and there’s a picture of Tony and his girlfriend. The girlfriend’s old boyfriend is part of the mob, and it’s his kid. Now I got the fucking mob and cops looking for me, so I panic and get out of Dodge. What am I going to do?” and then she started to sob.

Samantha’s head was spinning. Here she was—she had just killed a woman, she had just left a former life that she liked, and now the only person in the world she knew who loved her was in trouble. And just for shits and giggles, Becky’s brother was dead, and there was a kid involved. Fuck.

“Are you there, Sam?” Becky pleaded.

“Becky, stay where you are. I am in Springfield, and I have to change routes. If you need to go, go to the fancy hotel we stayed at in the city. There’s a lot of people, and you should blend in. Okay?” Samantha asked.

Becky was still crying. Becky was older and had always had her head on straight. She stayed in school, and while she got into some trouble, she never got in too deep and stayed on the right side of the law. Becky loved her brother, Tony, and he loved her. Samantha had to speculate and guess at Becky’s pain. Losing him had to eat her up.
That’s another advantage of not feeling
, Samantha pondered. Samantha liked Tony, and he would look out for her; however, it was more out of duty and love for his biological sister. He was a nice guy though and should not have been killed for doing the right thing.

“Becky! I need to know you heard me and know what to do,” Samantha ordered.

That got her stepsister’s attention. She stopped crying for a moment and said, “Yes, I got the plan. When will you get here?”

“I’m on my way now. I will let you know when I know. Love ya,” Samantha added. Becky was the only person she had ever said that to and meant it.

“Love you. And be careful,” and with that, Becky hung up.

“What the fuck?” Samantha said to herself. The events of nearly eight hours ago now seemed to dissolve in importance, and her world was now focused on getting to Becky.

By the time Samantha found the next place to change her ticket, time for departure, and destination arrival, she was able to call Becky back with an estimate. Samantha did change the plan. She had Becky meet her at a location in New York City—the Marriott Hotel in Central Square. This would shorten the time to get to Becky, and it would keep Becky on the move so that she would be distracted. Becky was a thinker, and waiting in a hotel any longer than she had to would drive her crazy. This plan solved two problems at once. Becky sounded stronger, and she was happy to be doing something proactive. Once she hung up, Samantha thought about what to do after she had arrived. While there were less people on this ride, the bus ride heading northeast was actually tenser than the one leaving Virginia. Once either she or Becky was about halfway to their destination, they would call the other—that was the plan at least. So when a call came on Samantha’s cell only an hour into her trip, she was surprised and answered it quickly. Something was wrong.

“Becky? Are you all right?” Samantha asked, closer to panic than she ever had been. There was silence for a moment. The line was open, but no one said anything. Was it a former customer looking for a good time?

“Hello?” Samantha pressed. She then looked at the number, and it looked familiar.

“Dr. Caulfield?”

The silence broke on the other line.

“This is Alex Burns,” the voice said calmly.

Samantha had never heard his voice as strong and as clear.

“Alex?” she asked. She was confused. How did Burns get the phone she had given to David? Something was really wrong.

“Yes,” Burns responded matter-of-factly.

That was when Samantha’s confusion lifted and she felt the anger well up. “Yes? Do you know I almost got killed because of you?”

There was no response at first, and then he asked, “Are you alone?”

Samantha looked over the chairs in front and behind her and lowered her voice. “I am on a bus heading north, and I am lucky to be alive,” Samantha added. Samantha made sure not to mention where exactly she was headed. She really didn’t trust anyone.

“I am sorry.” Samantha could hear something in his voice. Softness? Sadness? Compassion? His apology did sound genuine. “Where are you headed?” Burns then asked.

“Why?” Samantha shot back. She believed it was Burns, but she was not about to risk her life or her sister’s life on a gamble.

“Look. I have Dr. Caulfield with me, and he is hurt. And I need help.”

My God
, Samantha thought,
can this day get any worse?

“Okay. Here’s the deal. The past eight hours have been pretty eventful.” And with that, Samantha summarized the events in Virginia with her assailant and murder victim, her trek heading out west, a wrinkle with her sister, and the time and general location of her final destination.

If Burns was either impressed or doubtful, he never conveyed it. He listened and then came up with a plan. “All right. Once you get to your destination and secure the area, contact me, and I will be in the city as well. And we’ll set up a meet.”

“Is David with you?” Samantha asked.

“Yes. He is unconscious.”

“What do you mean unconscious?” Samantha asked.

It was Burns’s turn to summarize the events of the past eight hours—his following the first target, following Caulfield to his home, the explosion, the killing of the second target, the money, guns, and clothes. He added that prior to leaving the state, he had located a somewhat secluded private medical practice, broke in and stole sedatives, antibiotics, and bandages. While he was able to clean and dress the wounds, it was clear that Caulfield might lose his eyesight. Getting emergency care from a hospital was not an option.

“So what the fuck is going on?” Samantha finally asked. There was hesitation, slight but evident.

“We’ll talk later. Suffice it to say that the people I used to work for are serious about cleaning up loose ends, and the sooner I get Dr. Caulfield to you, the better. I also think—”