Fire Escape - Book Three: Troubled Heroes Series (An Action Thriller) (27 page)

             
The cop car merged into traffic and drove out of sight, giving him a chance to leave. Thankfully the pedestrian traffic was thick and he was able to blend in, as long as he kept his head low. He walked down into a nearby subway station and went into the bathroom, quickly nodding at a man he almost ran in to. Stopping at the mirror, he grimaced. His facial hair was getting dark and he ran his hand down his cheek. His black eye was fading, but still very noticeable. The dark bags under his eyes helped accentuate it. At least his beard would help hide his face.

             
Running some water, he cupped as much as he could and splashed it on his face. His eyes burned. His skin was gritty. He needed to brush his teeth. It was all simple things he took for granted.

             
His phone buzzed in his pocket and it was Casey. His heart skipped a beat, wondering what sort of news he had to spill.

             
"Yeah?"

             
"Where are you?"

             
"This might sound crazy, but is it okay to talk on phones? You think they'll go as far as listening over something like arson?"

             
"I don't know," Casey said. "I doubt it."

             
"I'll just leave it as, I'm safe right now. What's up?" Michael leaned against the sink, still shocked at the reflection looking back at him.

             
"Gregg is still reporting to work. I'm down the street from the firehouse and he's out washing the truck. Seems to be in a good mood. He's an arrogant son of a bitch, isn't he?"

             
Michael walked back out into the main area of the subway, feeling uncomfortable with the amount of people coming and going. Rush hour was now at its peak and his risk of being spotted went up. Walking back up the stairs and onto the street level, he walked right past an NYPD cruiser parked on the curb. Keeping his cool was hard, but with his hoodie pulled up, he was able to get by without raising too much of a suspicion. He never thought he'd be so happy for cold weather, but right now, it was helping him.

             
"Mikey, you there?"

             
"Yeah, man, sorry. It's kinda hard to talk on the phone and look over my shoulder at the same time. I need to get off the street. Especially right now."

             
"What's your plan?"

             
Taking a deep breath, Michael crossed the street. "You say Gregg is washing the rig right now?"

             
"Yeah."

             
"Did you see him go in to work this morning?"

             
"No, why?"

             
"One of the first things we do at the beginning of the day shift is wash the trucks. That means he's just coming on for his tour." Michael adjusted his hat and made a quick turn into an alley. Never before had he noticed so many cops, but now they were everywhere. He wasn't sure if that was out of the ordinary or if before, he just didn't give a damn.

             
"Get to the point, Mikey. I can't sit here much longer. Gregg will see me again."

             
"That means I have until this evening to do some looking around. I'm gonna head over to his place. Look, we've been on here long enough. It seems like tapping our phones is a little crazy, but right now, I don't want to think anything is out of their realm. I'll be in contact with you. Keep your phone nearby."

             
He ended the call and quickened his pace down the alley. Even in broad daylight, there were sketchy people everywhere. He avoided eye contact with them, not wanting to send the wrong message. Gregg's apartment was just a few blocks away. What if they were watching his place? Would that be somewhere they'd expect him to go? He'd keep his distance, and if there was anything near, he'd stay away. He had to do something. He didn't want to be out on the streets any more than he had to. The longer he was out, the greater the chances would be of him getting caught.

             
The walk seemed to take forever. He wanted to break into an all out run, but that would look crazy. Keeping a normal pace was hard, especially with the anticipation that he was feeling. He saw the apartment building just half a block down. There didn't seem to be any cruisers or NYPD personnel around. What if they were waiting inside? He had to hope they were casing the more obvious places, like his own apartment and his mother's house. Even the firehouse. They had never mentioned Gregg's name to him, so they didn't know he was on to him.

             
Michael waited out on the stoop. Just like his place, you had to have a code to access the inside. Patiently, he watched, finally jumping at the chance when a woman held the door open for her two young children to come through. Without seeming weird, Michael helped her hold it, flashing a polite smile at her as she rustled them up and out onto the curb. Without skipping a beat, he went inside.

             
Eva had mentioned the apartment number he lived in. He had a hard time remembering right off, but thought hard. It was the fifth floor, unit five twelve. He couldn't even remember why she had told him, but was thankful he had remembered. Rather than take the elevator with people, he found the stairs and jogged up, his body objecting to the sudden physicality.

             
Catching his breath at the top of the stairs, he opened the door, glad that the hallway was vacant. Five twelve was at the end. How was he going to bust in without being loud? He had his Swiss army knife. Maybe he could pick the lock.

             
Studying the doorknob, he kept watching to make sure no one was coming. His hands were shaky and he dropped the knife. Sweat poured from his brow. He tried to remember how he had done this. He had broken into cars and things as a kid. He used to be really good at getting doors open. Now he was used to just kicking them down in fires. That wouldn't work. It would draw way too much attention.

             
He tried each tool on the knife. Nothing was working. He opened the smallest knife, gently hitting the handle, maneuvering the blade into the key slot. It went in, fitting almost perfectly. Giving it another tap, he heard the lock click. Did it work? Was luck finally on his side? He turned the knob and a rush of relief poured over him. Behind the door revealed Gregg's place. He removed the knife and slipped it back into his pocket.

             
Shutting the door behind him, Michael began to look around. On one wall in his living room sat different firefighter memorabilia, ranging from newspaper articles to pictures taken at different functions. Michael walked through the living area and into the kitchen. So far, nothing stuck out to him. He opened up closets and cabinets, even checked under the sink. His hopes of finding something began to fade. Maybe Gregg didn't keep that stuff there.

             
He went into the bedroom. His bed wasn't made and his laundry was scattered all over the floor. He slid open his closet. Damn it! Nothing! He scanned the bathroom. There was a narrow towel closet that drew his attention. Thinking he'd have the same result, he went ahead and checked just to make sure. Before him sat the gas can that Casey had witnessed him filling up. He clicked a quick picture with his phone. Of course, it wouldn't be enough evidence to allow the police to believe him, but it was hopefully something.

             
Pausing, heat rushed over him when he heard the door squeak open. Voices, inaudible at first, but obviously in the apartment. Was it Gregg? Wasn't he just at work? Michael hugged the wall, trying to control his breathing. What in the hell was going on? Did they see him break in?

             
"Detectives, I'm glad to be of any help. Like I said, none of us at the station have heard from him. I worked all last night and just filled in this morning for a few hours for another guy. You had good timing catching me just getting home."

             
Was he on the phone? Michael scooted back into the bedroom. There was a window on the far wall. It would be his only way out. Tiptoeing, he felt as if he were being loud. How had Gregg not heard him?

             
"I'll let you know if I hear of anything. Yes, Detective Vasquez, you bet. Thanks for calling. I'm sorry it's gotten to this point. McGinnis really fooled a lot of us. It's a damn shame. He's a damn fine firefighter."

             
Michael heard Gregg hang the phone up. He was walking somewhere, and his shadow showed he was nearing the hallway. Scooting toward the window, he pulled up on the pain and pushed the curtain away. There was a metal fire escape below, and he kicked his legs out first. Now completely outside, he turned to shut the window. Gregg was standing right over him, his arrogant smirk sending a chill through Michael.

             
"Well, well, look who decided to stop by. You find anything interesting?"

             
Michael didn't respond, and pushed away from the building. Gregg leaned his head out and it took everything he had not to punch him.

             
"I just got off of the phone with your friends. They're really looking for you." His eyes moved down to the street. "Oh look, there's someone who might be interested in you right now."

             
Michael noticed the cop car and flew down the steps. The cruiser blared its siren and Michael broke into an all out sprint, his lungs burning and his legs screaming out in pain.

             
"See you soon, McGinnis!" Gregg yelled from above.

             
The cop car's tires screeched as Michael took a quick detour down the alley. Hurdling over some trash right in the middle of his path, he looked behind him to see that one cop was on foot, about fifty feet behind him. Pushing hard, he fought against himself. This was not the time to get caught. How could he be so stupid?

             
Gasping, he took another sharp turn. Where did this guy's partner go in the car? He expected to see it jump out at him at any time, hitting him blindside.

             
"Stop! NYPD!"

             
Looking back again, Michael saw that the older and more heavy set man was falling behind. His body language looked like a man beaten, but he still didn't want to give up. Though he had the upper hand on the cop, he didn't slow his pace. It was certain they had called for backup. He had to find a hiding spot and lay low for awhile.

             
He stayed in the shadows of the alleys, realizing that he had completely lost him. A siren echoed off the high rises and he knew it was because of him. He found his way inside of an abandoned building. The floor beneath him was shaky, but at least he was alone and away from the search party.

             
Leaning against the wall, he slid his back down against the bricks until he was sitting. His heart was racing out of his chest and he buried his face in his hands. How in the hell was he going to get out of this? Gregg's apartment gave him nothing and now he, as well as the detectives, knew he had broke in.

             
His phone was down to fifteen percent on its battery life, so he powered it down for the time being. What good would it be to him anyway? Casey would just call with more bad news. He didn't want Eva calling him and risk being taken in as an accessory to the crimes.

             
Hopefully an idea would hit him soon, but for now, he was going to lay low for awhile. He licked his lips but no moisture came off on them. His stomach growled. It had been almost a complete day since he had eaten and his system was feeling the effects of it. He pulled his knees into his chest and tried to stay warm. It began to rain and just as luck would have it, the building leaked. Moving out of the way of a drip right over his head, he kicked aside some loose boards and tried to rest. He felt hopeless. He had been on the run for a day now and was completely miserable. Would it get to the point where he'd have to make the decision to turn himself in? Hopefully not. An idea or plan would come along before then. It had to.

Chapter Nineteen

              Eva couldn't stand staying in the apartment much longer. The news talked about Mikey and that he had been spotted, but there wasn't much more mention about it. Was that a good thing? She didn't know. The only thing she was sure of was that staying home for another five minutes was going to drive her completely insane.

             
It had just got done raining when she made it down to the street. The cold air cut through her light coat like a knife, and she slouched to try to keep warm. She wasn't sure where she was going to go. She was still pissed off at her father and hadn't talked to him since their breakfast together. He had called several times and she let the voicemail pick up every time.

             
Walking through the crowd, she could swear she kept spotting Mikey within the groups of people. Taking a second glance, it was just her imagination. She missed him so much and wasn't sure if things would ever get back to normal.