Darkness & Shadows (30 page)

He shrugged. “It’s been a rough few days.”

“Patrick, this is way too dangerous. You’re in over your head.”

“I’ve got no choice,” he said, looking at what was once his garage. “I’m in it now, whether I like it or not.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Patrick reached for the door handle. “I honestly have no idea. I need to process everything, figure it all out. Right now, I just want to get some sleep.”

Erika fell back in her seat and gazed at him with what he could tell was genuine worry. “What can I do in the meantime?”

“Keep everything under wraps, okay? I’ll let you know when I have more.”

“Please, Patrick,” she said, “just be careful.”

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He entered the house thinking about what Erika had said.
Just be careful.
He was way beyond that point. Right now he was all about staying alive. Patrick turned to close the front door.

“Welcome home.”

He spun around and froze.

Tristan relaxed on the recliner, Bullet facing her with rapt attention. She threw the dog some popcorn; he snatched it midair.

“Jeez,” Patrick said, “I need to tie a damned bell around your neck just to keep track of you.”

“You’ll forgive me for breaking and entering this once, I hope, considering the circumstances.”

He sat on the couch with a weary sigh.

“Saw you on the news last night,” she said and smiled. “Sure are getting a lot of coverage lately. You’re almost like a celeb.”

He gave her a glare. Her face flashed serious. She looked at her feet, scratched her head. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He loosened up some, took in a cleansing breath. “Just glad you were able to get away. I can handle this. For you it would have been a completely different story.”

She watched him for a moment, her smile curving toward what looked like appreciation. Then she said, “So what happened?”

He gave her the whole story and when he was done said, “Pike’s seriously got it in for me.”

“Pike’s full of hot air,” she said, waving it off with a hand. “Typical cop intimidation bullshit. He’s got nothing on you.”

“He’s working like hell to find something. His people are combing the compound for evidence.”

“They won’t find anything.”

“How about the window that got shot out? He seemed very interested in that.”

“They don’t know
how
it got shot. And they won’t.”

“Can’t the ballistics guys figure it out?”

“I shot at Wesley with a revolver. No shell casings in the house, and even if they find a bullet outside, they can’t prove you were there, or that you had anything to do with it—so all they have is a broken window.”

“What about gun residue? They can test for that, right?”

“They can, but trust me, they won’t. That window was shattered all to pieces. They don’t have time to go through every shard, and even if they did, there’s still nothing to connect you. The place has been empty for weeks, and the jackasses forgot to activate the alarm. Anyone could have gone in there and broken that window. I’d love to see Pike try to pin that on you.”

“I wouldn’t.”

She fell back into the chair, rolled her eyes, aimed the remote at the TV.

“He’ll be watching me now.”

She was flipping through channels. “He already is.”

“What?”

She regarded the window. “Rob’s Electrical Service van. Parked across the street, about four houses down.”

Patrick frowned.

“Rob and his electrical service don’t exist. It’s the bucket squad. Pike and his goons are officially round-the-clock-on-your-ass.”

Patrick’s cheeks flushed warm.

“True story,” she said with a shrug, still watching the TV.

“
What the
…? Are they bugging the place, too?”

“Not anymore.” Without taking her eyes off the screen, she lifted a hand and opened it, revealing two very smashed and flattened microphones.

Patrick stared at them. His cheeks were no longer warm; they were burning. He moved his gaze up to her and said, “And you’re sitting here relaxed and watching TV?”

“What was I supposed to do? Invite them in for a refreshing beverage? Settle down. I’ve got this.”

Patrick hurtled off the couch and began pacing, hands locked behind his head. “This is really bad.” He stopped to look at her. “Did they see you come in?”

“Honestly, Patrick. Really?”

“What the hell do we do now?”

“Tell ’em to bring it on. Just more stupid cops, as far as I’m concerned. Besides, we’ve got a bigger problem.”

“What now?”

“Wesley Clark is coming for us… if he’s not already here.”

That made Patrick’s stomach turn cold. “What makes you so sure? Wouldn’t that be too risky for him?”

“Not as risky as having two people floating around who know he’s still alive. Guaranteed, he wants to finish up what he couldn’t do at the compound.”

“You sure?”

“Patrick, he’s a criminal. I’m a criminal. I know how their minds work, and that one’s about as crazy-assed as they come. Make no mistake: Wesley Clark is fixing to climb all up in our shit.”

“So what do we do?”

“We need to get out of here, and we need to do it fast.”

“We can’t run for the rest of our lives.”

“You’re right. We can’t. We need a plan, and I’ve got one.”

He gave her an expectant stare.

She said, “The key to all this is your Charlene.”

“Marybeth.”

“Whatever. The point is, you’ve been thinking like a reporter.”

“Because I am one.”

“If you want to win this game, you need to start thinking like a criminal.”

“Okay then, criminal, tell me.”

“We need to go back to where this all began.”

“Already been to Las Brisas and the compound.”

“There you go, thinking like a damned reporter again. Knock it off.”

“What, then?”

“Follow the body,” she said. “Follow Marybeth.”

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“Mexico?” Patrick said.

“Yes,
Mexico.
Don’t know why you didn’t go there to begin with.”

“I didn’t
go there
to begin
with
because I didn’t know about the connection until after she was found. Besides, it’s a waste of time. The cops can’t get any info from authorities. They can’t even get her body back here.”

She shook her head, pursing her lips. “Reporter.”

“Stop it.”

“Look, my instincts tell me there’s a helluva lot more to this story than what anybody knows, and it’s not going to just drive itself across the border and present itself to the cops. We need to go there and find it.”

“But how will you cross the border? You’re on parole.”

“Really, Patrick. You begged me to break into Security Central where I almost got caught and arrested, and now you’re worried about parole violations?”

He didn’t have an answer for that one.

“Look,” she said. “I’ve been watching you stumble over yourself too long. Now your life’s in danger, and mine, too. You’ve been completely missing the ball. I’m taking it from here.”

He crossed his arms and gave her a scowl.

“Sorry, but it’s true. You’ve managed to get Psycho Dude From Hell and Dumbo-Cop both on your tail. Good job. If you want to live and keep both our asses out of jail, you need to turn this over to me. Now, are you in or not?”

He gaped at her, wondering if he looked as utterly clueless as he felt.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said. “Now, first things first. Got any cash available?”

“About three thousand that I can get my hands on right away.”

“Take twenty-five hundred. Draining the account raises a red flag. After that, don’t use any credit or debit cards. From here on, we only deal in cash.”

He nodded.

“Next there’s a dick with resources we need to lose.”

“What about the psychotic with the grudge?”

“That’ll take a bit more effort. For now, head to the bank and grab the green. We’ll meet at a designated rendezvous, throw the cops off our trail from there. Wesley too, if he’s watching us.”

Patrick looked at Bullet. The dog perked his ears. Patrick gave Tristan a fretful stare.

“I know,” she said, “I love the guy too, but I’m sorry, you’re going to have to put him up somewhere.”

Patrick frowned. Bullet whimpered.

“Is there somebody you trust where you know he’ll be safe?”

“I can leave him with Erika, but what do I tell her?”

“As little as possible. The less she knows, the better off she’ll be. Tell her that if she asks.”

Patrick looked at Bullet, nodding, troubled by the thought of leaving his boy behind, realizing how much he was going to miss him.

“Take a cab to Erika’s,” Tristan said. “I don’t want you using my car anymore. Now that we know the cops are watching your every move, they can easily trace my plates, and I want to remain invisible. Then go straight to the bank.
Quickly
. We don’t have
much time. Leave your phone here, too. It’s got GPS tracking on it.”

“But how do I lose the cops before I get to the rendezvous point?”

“You won’t. I’ll explain later. After you get the money, go to Sangria Market on the corner of Phelps and Lacy. There’s a pay phone all the way in back. I’ll call you at one p.m. on the nose. Be there and be ready to take instructions. Now, let’s get this party started.”

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When Erika opened her door, she didn’t even ask what was wrong, but Patrick knew the troubled look on his face spoke volumes.

He handed her the leash. “Would you mind?”

Bullet let out a low whimper.

Erika smiled with worry. “Of course not.”

Patrick stooped to his knees, began scratching under his boy’s chin, the weight of the moment too heavy for him. For the first time since he’d brought Bullet home, they would be separated, possibly for days, possibly longer. The dog was his world, his kindred spirit, and he wasn’t sure how they’d manage without each other. Patrick wasn’t even sure if he’d return from Mexico alive.

He looked deep into Bullet’s eyes and said, “I’m not abandoning you. I’m coming back. I promise.”

Bullet kept his eyes on him and tilted his head, as if to say,
But I don’t understand.
He let out a whine, more soulful and troubled than Patrick had ever heard from him. It hit Patrick hard. He ran a hand over Bullet’s head and again said, “I promise.”

He stood to find Erika looking just as troubled, his pain reflected in her eyes. The words caught in his throat when he said, “He means the world to me. Please… please take care of my boy.”

“I will,” she said, softly. “You won’t have to worry about him, but I’m worried about you. Please, Patrick, take care of yourself.”

Bullet lifted his head and let out a long, penetrating howl.

Patrick’s eyes filled with tears. He swallowed hard, turned and walked away, feeling as if he were leaving his whole life behind.

And maybe he was.

As the cab pulled away, he could see Erika and Bullet standing in the doorway. He turned his head forward, drew in a strained breath, his ache drilling deeper with each mile.

On the main road, he forced himself to focus on other things. Tristan had told him to be mindful of anyone who might be following him. He gazed into the side view at the two lanes behind him, both filled with cars, wondering if any of them was the enemy. Not that he could tell anymore. The enemy was multiplying, the lines becoming more blurred as his life spun closer toward danger. He’d hoped to make things better when all this started, but all he’d really done was create a mess. Now he wondered whether he was headed for an even bigger one.

He felt so lost, so untethered. So alone.

Patrick waited in the back of the market for Tristan’s call, cash heavy in his pocket. The phone rang exactly at one o’clock. The woman was nothing if not precise.

“Walk two blocks north,” she said. “Go left on Johnson. There’s a little dive bar called Flirty’s about a hundred feet down on the right. Go inside.”

“Then what?” he said, watching a woman move down the market aisle, her little boy smiling in the cart without a care in the world. He envied the boy.

“I’ll be waiting,” Tristan said.