Edge of the Heat 5 (12 page)

The freeway exit loomed, so he put his phone down on his lap. He’d call when he was stopped.

Jerry covered the few miles to his house in minutes and stopped on the street on the side of his house so he was closer to the back door. He unlocked the back door and ran inside to his safe, grabbing his gun and holster quickly, and sprinting back out to his car. He fastened the gun in its holster under his shirt, in the small of his back while he ran. It felt good there. Heavy. Business-like. He climbed back in his car and sat for a second. This felt right. He didn’t know if Chester Wysong had any idea what he was talking about or not, but something about what he said had felt true to Jerry. And if someone was running around acting like a hit man, then Jerry felt safer this way. More equally matched.

His phone rang. He grabbed it, expecting Craig, but the screen told him Bayside Taxis was calling again.
Perfect
.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mr. Smith?” A clipped, female voice.

“Yes.”

“Hi, I'm Sandy from Bayside Taxis and I had some information for you about the fare you were asking about on Sunday night?” She sounded breathless, anxious. Like she really had news. Jerry sat up straight, half afraid to hear what she had to say.

“OK, great. Shoot.”

“Bayside Taxis picked up a woman on Eller’s Hill that night. I talked to the guy that picked her up myself today when he got off shift, cuz I don’t want any more ladies to get hurt, so I wanted to help, ya know?”

The inside of Jerry’s car seemed airless. Too still. His lungs worked frantically, trying to breathe nothing. A car slid past him on the main street. It seemed to float, soundlessly.

“Thank you, what did he say?” He heard himself talking and wasn’t sure how his larynx was functioning with no air.

“He said she fit the description except she was wearing black pants and a shirt, not a dress. He said he was s’posed to pick up a woman in front of 1504 Eller’s Hill Lane. When he got there she was standing in front of the gate. She got in and gave him an address and didn’t say another word. He dropped her off at the address. She paid him and gave him a $5 tip. And that’s it.”

Jerry’s chest screamed for air. He sucked in a breath. It didn’t seem to help.
So she did leave voluntarily. No one came and got her. And she changed her clothes? Why? How? Why?

Jerry spoke again, surprised at how he managed to get the words out even though he was drowning with no water. “Can you give me the address please?”

“Yeah, it was the corner of 67th Street and 2nd avenue.” 

Downtown.
“And did your driver say what she did when she got there?”

“She just got out and walked down the sidewalk.”

“Do you know which way?”

“No, sorry.”

“It’s OK, thanks. She wasn’t ... crying or anything, was she?”

“Crying? No, I don’t think so. At least he didn’t say anything. If you call back tonight after 10 you can talk to him yourself. Just ask the night dispatcher to patch you through to Izzy.”

“Izzy, OK, thank you very much, uh Sandy. You’ve really helped me out a lot.”

Her voice beamed. “Oh great mister, you gonna mention me in your article?”

“Yeah, sure, just watch for it.” Jerry’s voice trailed off and he clicked the end button on his phone.

It was time to get real with himself. He’d just
known
that something had happened to her at the wedding reception. That she had walked outside for some air and she’d been ... abducted or something. But now that was obviously not the case. So now what? What did this mean? That she just took off? Or was she abducted once she got dropped off downtown. But why change her clothes and go downtown in the first place? And where did she get her clothes? And what happened to her dress? That was less than a mile from her office. Maybe she walked to her office and got her car and ... and what? Left town? He should go up to the Eller’s Mansion and see if they’d found her dress in the trash or something.

But why. Why even search for her anymore? She obviously didn’t want anything to do with him. It was done. It was over. The thing that happened at her apartment was just a ... a what? A coincidence.

Jerry’s thoughts swam back and forth, his cheeks and ears heating up with the effort of keeping what now seemed like the obvious truth from himself.
She had not just left. She had
abandoned
him. And not because she had to. Because she wanted to.

Jerry’s phone buzzed in his hand. He looked down at it, more on reflex than because he had any reason or desire to. His brain felt numb. His heart felt like Sara had squeezed it and squashed it and thrown it in the trash.

Craig’s face flashed on his screen.
Craig. He should answer this.

“
Hello.”

“Jerry man! Thank God I finally got you!” Craig didn’t wait for an answer. Just kept talking. “I got a call from a buddy down at the Westwood Harbor PD last night, Jer. Gagne just put out an APB for you.”

Jerry’s head and heart temporarily shook off their recent injury and tried to get back in the game. “What? An APB? Like he’s going to arrest me?”

“Yeah.”

“What for?”

“S.R. 1900. Perverting the course of justice. I think he thinks you’re messing with evidence or something. Basically it’s an obstruction of justice statute and it could mean anything. Probably you’re just stepping on his toes a little too much.”

“What the actual fuck Craig? What’s wrong with these cops?”

“I don’t know man. From what I’ve heard Gagne’s a pretty straight-laced guy. You must have just rubbed him the wrong way. Or given him the wrong impression. And now he’s got a hard-on for you.”

“Great.” Jerry rubbed the back of his head and watched the traffic drive past his house on the street ahead of him. “So what do I do now?”

“Can you get out of there for a little bit? I don’t know Gagne but I think Hawk has talked to him before. Hawk could try to talk him into leaving you alone, but not till he comes back from his honeymoon.”

“Get out of here? Like leave town?”

“Yeah, I would. Just for a few days.”

“What about Sara?”

Craig sucked in a breath. “Yeah, that’s the hard part. Have you discovered anything?”

Just that she hates me. Just that she’s a liar. Just that I’m the worst judge of character in the world. Or maybe I’m a good judge of character and I’m working out some disgusting mommy-fantasy in real life.

“Not really. Things are getting a little weird, but I’m no closer to finding out where she is or what happened to her.”

“Well Gagne’s supposed to be a good investigator. I don’t think he’s just letting this thing sit. Even if he’s -” Craig’s words ceased to make any sense to Jerry as he tracked a black Suburban drive past the street he was on, and slow down like it was going to turn into his driveway. It passed out of his view, and the house was between him and the vehicle, but then it reappeared on the other side of the house. It didn’t park in his driveway, but rather sideways, at the end of it. If Jerry’s car would have been in the garage, he would have been blocked in.

“Uh Craig,” he said, cutting Craig off.

“Yeah?”

“Gagne just parked in front of my house.”

“Oh crap. You can see him?”

“Yeah, what should I do?”

“I don’t know man. If you can get out the back door before he says anything to you, you aren’t
technically
breaking the law.”

“I’m in my car, on the side street. I don’t think he’s seen me.”

“Maybe you should just take a little vacation Jer.”

“Yeah, maybe I should. I’ll call you later Craig. Thanks.”

Jerry put the phone down slowly on the seat next to him, hoping Gagne wasn’t watching him through his windshield right now. He cranked the engine and winced at the noise it made. He threw the car in reverse and backed slowly down the street, trying not to attract attention. Hopefully the detective’s eyes were plastered on the house, not behind it.

No one had gotten out of the Suburban by the time Jerry reached the far corner. He reversed through the intersection and turned onto Hickory street, driving carefully. He breathed a sigh of relief, but watched his rear view mirror. Things were getting out of hand.

He turned his mind to the reality of the situation. He didn’t want to be arrested again. Craig’s suggestion was a good one. Just get out of town for a little bit. Let someone smooth things over before he came back. He had been planning to go to Vegas in a few weeks anyway. He could call, get the date for his hotel room changed, and be there by tonight. But he didn’t have any bags or clothes or anything. Well, he had his wallet didn’t he? He could buy new clothes.

But what about Sara?
a small part of his mind offered up.
What about her? She’s probably fine somewhere, maybe having a good laugh over this,
Jerry thought bitterly.
But that’s not right. She’s not that type. There must have been a reason for what she did. Didn’t there?

Jerry drove through town, staying off the freeway for now. He remembered all too well how Craig and Hawk had tracked Norman Foster using the freeway overpass cameras when Foster had kidnapped Emma and Vivian. He needed to quit thinking about Sara and focus on the task at hand. Getting his ass out of this city before he ended up in a small stinking cell for the next 2 or 3 days was job number 1.

Jerry drove and tried not to think. Las Vegas. That would be the perfect place to let this blow over. And maybe do a little work on forgetting about Sara and her mess for good.

S
ara pulled the motel door shut behind her, polishing the handle with her flesh colored gloves as she did so. She didn’t look around, but her peripheral vision told her all was quiet in the parking lot. She walked across the street, the other way from her car. She entered and exited several stores and found a crowd of people to walk with. She shed her gloves and added sunglasses and scarves from her bag as it seemed prudent to do so. By the time she walked a block north of the motel again to get back to her car, she looked like a different person.

She drove away feeling the mid-afternoon sun on her arms. She lifted her face to the window and smelled the breeze. It still smelled hot and dry, like always, but there was an attractive lunch-time scent of desserts and pizza too. She was starving. Her mind did not turn to Manny. She did not brood over her kill. The act of killing never bothered her. It was what she had been raised to do, wasn’t it? Her father had started her with a mini bolt youth .22 rifle at 5 years old, shooting rats at a friend’s farm. The rifle had been a bit too big for her, but she was good with it anyway. By the times she was 7, she could hit running mice in the head, every time. That had only been the beginning of her weapons and killing training, but it was one of her most conflicted memories. Her and her dad, riding in the pickup together, the guns stowed behind the seat. The feel of the trigger under her finger, the loud crack of the bullet leaving the gun, and the instant satisfaction of the rodent falling down in its tracks. It seemed like a good memory, but it was all mixed in with her current feelings about what she'd been trained to do her whole life. She just avoided those feelings.

Killing people was different than killing rats, but she’d never killed a person who wasn’t just a rat in disguise. Men and women who didn’t value human life, human pain, human sacrifice. Who made their living exploiting other people, especially women and children. Those were the rats she took out these days. Manny had been her first kill in over a year. She wasn't sure how she felt about it. She knew for sure it was the easiest and cleanest way out of the mess for Jessica and Zoey. But what did it say about her and her place in the world now?

But then she realized again that she didn’t have a place right now. She wasn’t a hired killer ridding the world of evil men for her country anymore. She’d done Manny for free. No, not for free. For Jessica and Zoey. Jessica didn’t know that Sara had killed Manny for her, and she would no doubt be appalled if she ever found out. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Either way, Jessica was smart enough to know that the only way she would truly be free was with Manny dead. Guys like Manny meant it when they said “if I can’t have you, no one will” and they didn’t think twice about hurting and even sometimes killing ‘their’ women. Sara knew that as well as she knew the lines and planes of her own face.

Back to the plan for now
, she thought. She had really enjoyed being Sara Acosta. Now to try her hand at being Brook Barnes, stay one step ahead of her pursuers, and see if another, new life would be as enjoyable as the last one.
Not without Jerry
, her traitor mind whispered to her. She cut that voice off viciously. Jerry was an enigma, an unknown.
And nothing but trouble
, she stated emphatically.
No, he was the real thing
, the turncoat in her brain insisted. She shook her head and pressed her lips together. She didn’t know what Jerry was or wasn’t, but it didn’t matter, because she was never going to see him again.

The traitorous voice in her brain kept quiet, perhaps knowing that, at least was true. Sara turned her full attention back to the road and headed towards Jessica’s hotel.

She parked and jogged up to Jessica’s room, excited to see how baby Zoey was doing. She pressed her ear to the door, smiling at the pop music she heard blaring from inside. Jessica was getting to be a teenager. How wonderful. She knocked. The music instantly cut off. Sara smiled into the peephole and waited.

Jessica tore the door open. “Brook!” she cried, baby Zoey held in her arms, her eyes filling with tears.

“Oh, hey, what’s wrong?” Sara asked, moving inside the room and shutting the door, then hugging Jessica and moving her to sit on the bed.

“Nothing, really, I mean, I just am so happy to see you. I just. I’ve been thinking and you’ve been so good to me and I’ve been here just me and Zoey and ...” the tears really started to come now. Jessica’s breath hitched. Baby Zoey looked at her mom and burst into loud tears herself.