Fire Escape - Book Three: Troubled Heroes Series (An Action Thriller) (28 page)

             
She boarded the subway, headed toward his mother's house. Casey was back in town and she needed to be close to family. Maybe he had some news she hadn't heard that would ease her mind. Maybe just seeing his face would calm her nerves. It had been too long and being around familiarity might be the best thing for her.

             
Everywhere she went, she felt as if she were being watched. It probably wasn't her imagination. Mikey had told her that they'd have cops everywhere, especially near her. They must have thought he was stupid to assume he'd come around her. If only he could, even for a few seconds to at least let her know he was okay. For all Eva knew, he could be dead. This was a serious situation that she wasn't getting the full story on.

             
She got off of the train and noticed the overcast sky. It was making the evening shorter, blocking the sun, making night fall around the city. She hoped someone was home. She didn't even bother calling before heading that way. Stopping on the sidewalk in front of the house, she noticed a dark SUV parked down the street. Shaking her head, she fought the urge to wave at them. It was definitely a surveillance vehicle, making sure Mikey didn't have a lapse in judgment and show up.

             
Turning her attention back to the house, she saw the living room light on, as well as the glow from the TV. Hesitating a few more seconds, she pushed forward and knocked on the door. Casey answered, his eyes wide in surprise as he pulled her in for a hug.

             
"Eva, my dear! You're looking really good!"

             
She enjoyed the embrace and didn't want to let him go. Just his resemblance to Mikey made her long for her fiancé even more. His green eyes danced with amusement and his thick eyebrows spoke louder than words.

             
"I'm sorry I didn't call..."

             
"Forget about it. Come on in, it's cold out there." He shut the door behind her. "Can I take your coat?"

             
She pulled it off and let him have it, knowing he was taking full notice to her change in appearance.

             
"Is your mom around?" She asked, sitting on the couch.

             
"Yeah, she's here somewhere." Before he could say anything else, she came down the stairs, a smile replacing the creased brow and frown.

             
"Eva! Hey hon! You need anything to drink or eat?"

             
Eva held her hand up and shook her head. "No thanks, Ms. McGinnis. I'm okay." She bit her bottom lip. "I actually came over because I couldn't stand being alone much longer. I..." A tear caught in the corner of her eye and she wiped it away. "Have you heard from him?"

             
Their happy expressions faded and both of them looked at the floor. "No, Eva, not since I warned him about the warrant. He's been laying low. But as far as I can tell from the news, he's still out there," Casey replied, reaching out and grabbing her hand.

             
"I just don't know." Her voice shook and she failed at keeping her emotions in check.

             
"Don't know what, hon?" His mom asked. "Vent away. It seems you need it."

             
"How is he gonna get out of this?" Tears streamed down her face and Casey handed her a tissue. "He's out there like some damn criminal on the most wanted list. It's only a matter of time before he gets caught. You both know that. What happens next?"

             
Casey stood up and raked his hand through his hair. Damn it, just like Mikey would do when he was worried. "Mikey and I have been working together on trying to catch that Gregg Walsh guy in the act. I followed him the other night. He's the one up to it, we just don't have enough solid evidence to go with it. Mikey was actually on his way to talk to the detectives when the other arson happened."

             
"So how do we get enough evidence? I'm sure you noticed how cold it is out there tonight. He needs to be off of the streets."

             
"I know," Casey whispered, sitting back down. "My last interaction with Gregg showed me just how arrogant he is. He's gonna get cocky and that's when he'll make his mistake."

             
"I'm just worried. He's fragile. You know that better than anyone, Casey. With all of this bullshit he's dealing with, I can say I wouldn't blame him for drinking. It would be one of the few ways to deal with it all. God, I hope he stays strong."

             
His mom patted her leg. "He won't drink, Eva."

             
She glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, trying to keep the pessimism in check. "I hope you're right."

             
"I am. He's got a lot of things going on, most importantly, the baby you're carrying. That's his inspiration, and Eva, believe me when I say that you and the baby are what's on his mind. He's gonna come up with a solution to this and you are all gonna move on with your lives and have a beautiful family."

             
Eva loved her optimism, but just couldn't see it the same way. Right now, it was hopeless. Nothing was on their side. Was his mom that naive to not realize it, or in denial?

             
"I just can't stop worrying. Not until he's safe at home."

             
"No one expects you to stop worrying, Eva. That's impossible. What I'm saying is have faith. He's innocent. Justice has to prevail, otherwise, what's the point of being an American? I know this is not what you want to hear right now, but try to calm down. If not for you, for the baby. You need to stay healthy."

             
Eva nodded. "I appreciate you two letting me come over. I can't go through this alone."

             
"And we won't let you. He's special to all three of us," Casey said. "The door is always open. With everything Mikey has done for me, this is the least we can do for both of you."

***

              Michael shifted his weight and his body screamed out in pain. He was confused. Where the hell was he? As he came to, he realized he was in the abandoned building he had sought refuge in from the cops. Leaning against the wall, he shivered under his damp hoodie. It had been raining, and though he had gotten somewhat wet from the weather, at least he had better shelter than out on the streets.

             
According to his watch, an hour had passed. He felt so weak that he wasn't sure if he'd have the energy to outrun another cop if he was spotted again. It didn't matter. He had to find something to eat. He was shaky and some of his exhaustion probably stemmed from not having anything in his system.

             
Forcing himself to a standing position, he let out a deep groan. He edged his way to the front exit of the building, taking a long glance outside to make sure there were no cops around. His eyes scanned for any out of place vehicle or person who might be undercover.

             
The sun had set and the street lights were flickering on. Michael made it a point to walk in the shadows, using the darkness as another way of staying hidden. He pulled his hood on and buried his hands in his pockets. There were other people fitting the same description as him out and about. At least his behavior didn't seem too out of the ordinary for the neighborhood he was in.

             
He felt his phone in his pocket, still hesitant to turn it on. He needed to preserve the battery life for as long as possible, just in case he needed it. He also had some cash in his pocket. It wasn't much, but it would be enough to get him something to calm his  hunger pangs. The only issue was where he could go without getting spotted. Due to no access to TV's, he wasn't sure how much the news had been reporting about it. Since it was like hitting oil to the media, he would lean toward the fact that they were reporting on it like it was top notch news.

             
Michael scrubbed his hand down the side of his face. With the way his facial hair was growing in, there was a chance it would play in his favor. For once he was thankful for the fact that he had to shave daily or look like a hobo.

             
The only options he spotted to get food were bars. Bars on every corner, bars everywhere he looked. The heavy scent of burgers, fries, and junk food hovered around him, making his stomach growl even louder than before. He could be resilient. Just go in, eat quickly, and run out. Don't even consider a drink. Don't even allow a drink menu to get close. Taking a deep breath, he ducked inside the next bar he came across, his nerves relaxing when everyone seemed to be minding their own business. No one stopped and stared at him like in the movies. No one yelled out that he was the man the NYPD was looking for. Nope. Each and every person was engrossed in their own lives. A bar was probably the best place he could be, or at least he hoped.

             
Sitting at the far end, he caught the female bartender's attention right off. A flirtatious smile parted her lips and she leaned in close, her shirt cut low with every intention of showing off her cleavage. Michael pushed away, avoiding her advances. He was in no mood.

             
"What can I get for you, hon?" she asked, her long fingernails tapping at the surface of the bar.

             
"A burger and fries."

             
"And to drink? You look like a whiskey man."

             
"Pepsi."

             
"You're kidding, right?"

             
Michael arched his eyebrow, his patience gone before he ever tried to stay calm. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

             
She backed away from the bar and forced a laugh. "It's just... people don't generally come here for the food, if you know what I mean. And you, mister, look like you've had a hell of a day. A nice shot of whiskey might take the sting off."

             
He shook his head. She was good at reading him. "You have a keen eye for spotting things."

             
She edged the soda toward him, another smile on her face, this time more genuine and true. "I work this bar six days a week. I deal with a lot of people. Not sure what it is, but they love to pour their heart and soul out sitting right there where you are."

             
He drank down over half of the glass, savoring the instant sugar rush his body was craving. "Well you won't get that from me. Whatever people tell you, I'm sure my story is something you've never come across."

             
She folded her arms over her chest. "Try me."

             
"I think it'll do us both some good if I don't."

             
"I don't know, stranger. There's something about you that's alluring. You seem to have some mystery to you." She began to walk away and looked over her shoulder. "Maybe it's those green eyes against that darkness. Kinda like a little boy who is in trouble." She took a few more steps. "I'm gonna go check on your food. Our cook is pretty fast."

             
He didn't know who this girl was, but maybe she was right. Her job involved studying people, even if it was serving drinks. A lot could be told about a person by what he had in his glass. Looking around the room, he did some observing of his own. There were several groups of people here and there, all having a good time, oblivious to the fact that a wanted man was just a few feet away.

             
"Here's your burger. I'll leave you alone. Holler at me if you need anything. My name is Crystal."

             
"Thank you, Crystal." He wasted no time, digging into the food like it was a delicacy. The way he saw it, it was. It was the first meal he had since being on the run. He took heaving bites, savoring the juicy meat and crisp French fries.  He didn't give Crystal another chance to come talk to him. If she continued her observation of him, she might reveal the truth. He left her money to pay for the meal and a good tip, and ducked back out into the street, leaving fast in the hopes that he didn't make a lasting impression on her. The less people saw him, the better.

             
Another hour had passed since he had turned his phone off. Flipping it open, he would do a quick check for messages and updates from Casey and then turn it off again. Hoping for something, his stomach did a back flip when he saw he had a voicemail. He stood in the dark shadow of an alleyway and paced, wondering what the  message was, hoping for good news.

             
"Mikey McGinnis, this is your old pal Gregg Walsh. Man, you're famous here in New York now. Your face is painted all over the news. The cops want you back in their custody. How stupid was it to go torch another building once you were released? Or are you that crazy? Anyway, you and I both know the truth and it's time we end this once and for all. Call me when you get this. We have things to talk about."

             
Michael looked down at his phone, his gut reaction to throw it against the brick wall behind him. Gripping it tightly, he replayed the message as if he had missed some hidden meaning within it. Instead, Gregg's voice just sounded more evil, his laughter like nails on a chalk board. He hit the option to save it. Even though he didn't admit anything, it still could be considered evidence.