Insane City (37 page)

revolver out in front with both hands.

“No you fucking will
not
,” shouted Meghan. She jumped into the cruiser, slammed it into gear and

stomped the accelerator, yanking the wheel hard right. The cruiser fishtailed, and Meghan fought the

wheel. She got it straightened out just as she reached Brewer, who was standing next to Trevor, aiming

down. He saw her just in time to jump, landing on his side on the hood of the cruiser. Meghan drove

straight ahead, carrying him ten yards, almost to the pharmacy entrance. Then she slammed the brakes and

spun the wheel hard right, sending Brewer sliding off the hood and tumbling toward the building.

Forty-six seconds had passed.

Meghan circled the cruiser, tires screaming, back to where Trevor lay. She jumped out to look at

him. He was bleeding from his right leg. He was not moving but his eyes were open. He looked at her and

blinked.

She could hear the sound of sirens, much closer now.

“Meghan!”

She looked up and saw Seth, who’d driven the Escalade over, shouting out the window.

“Get in!” he said. “If the police get here, we’re totally fucked.”

Meghan stood up, took a step toward the Escalade.

Sirens.

“Come
on
, Meghan,” said Seth.

She looked down at Trevor. He blinked again.

“I don’t believe I’m doing this,” she said. She ran behind Trevor, got her arms under his, started

dragging him toward the cruiser.

“Meghan!” shouted Seth. “What are you
doing
?”

Meghan was in good shape, but Trevor was heavier than he looked. Meghan, grunting, got him a few

feet closer to the cruiser, then opened the rear door. She went to drag him again. He suddenly seemed to

grasp the plan and helped her, using his good leg and his arms. Together they got him into the cruiser.

Meghan closed the door. She could see flashing lights coming from the east on Miami Gardens Drive. She

jumped back into the driver’s seat, then leaned out the doorway and shouted to Seth. “NO MATTER

WHAT, GET BACK TO THE HOTEL, OK? JUST MAKE IT TO TINA’S WEDDING.”

Before Seth could answer, she slammed the door. The cruiser engine roared, the tires smoked, and

Meghan and Trevor shot across the parking lot, making a screaming right onto Miami Gardens Drive. The

Escalade was close behind.

Seventy-one seconds had passed since Meghan had touched Officer Delgado’s arm.

Castronovo emerged from the pharmacy, holding the Enfamil and the Huggies. The first thing he

noticed was a police cruiser and a black Escalade leaving the parking lot at a high rate of speed.

The second thing he noticed was the sound of sirens.

The third thing he noticed was Brewer, slowly getting to his feet, blood all over his front.

“What the fuck?” said Castronovo.

“Get in the car!” said Brewer, limping toward the Navigator and yanking open the passenger door.

“We have to get the fuck out of here
now
.”

Castronovo got into the driver’s seat and tossed the diapers and formula into the back. This was

when he noticed the fourth thing, which was that the backseat was empty.

“Where are the Haitians?” he said.

“Not now!” said Brewer. “Just go! GO!”

Castronovo reversed it fast and swung out into the parking lot. That was when he noticed the fifth

thing, which was a Miami-Dade police officer getting unsteadily to his feet. He looked over at Brewer

and said, “What the fuck
happened
out here?”

“Later,”
snapped Brewer. He pointed east. “That way.”

Castronovo turned right out of the parking lot on Miami Gardens Drive. Less than a minute later, the

first of the backup Miami-Dade Police units arrived from the west and pulled into the parking lot and

screeched to a halt next to Officer Delgado, who was standing on wobbly legs, looking around for his

weapon, knowing he was not going to be getting home anytime soon.

50

Blaze Gear checked her watch and allowed herself a small smile. They were wrapping up

the bridal timeline briefing, and they were right on schedule. They were now reviewing the cake-cutting

ceremony, which would be personally supervised by the internationally renowned master cake maker who

had created the cake and who had been flown in with an assistant first class from Paris.

Marcia had just raised a concern regarding the cake forks when Tracee reentered the suite and

reported that she had been unable to locate Meghan in the hotel or on the grounds. Marcia frowned at this

news, but Tina only smiled.

“She’ll show up,” said Tina. “She’s just punishing me because we had an argument last night. She

probably took a walk down the beach. But she’ll be here.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Marcia. She was feeling strangely mellow today after a night of deep

sleep, which was rare for her.

“Of course I’m right,” said Tina. “Mom, it’s Meghan. Right now she’s sitting under a palm tree,

smoking a joint.”

Marcia sighed. That would be Meghan, all right.

They resumed their discussion of Marcia’s fork concern. Nearby, on the screen of the muted TV,

Action 5 News anchorperson Lisbeth Renaldo was frowning into the camera over a superimposed

headline that said APE GANG STRIKES AGAIN. But none of the women were looking in that direction. They were on a

tight schedule.

51

For the fiftieth time in two minutes, Meghan glanced at the rearview mirror of the police cruiser.

The Escalade was still behind her. That was reassuring. She turned her head and took a quick look back

through the metal prisoner grille. Trevor was curled up on the backseat, not moving, but his eyes were

open and they met hers for a second.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

The police radio was active, emitting a constant stream of exchanges, most of which Meghan did not

understand. She found the volume knob and turned it all the way down. She was crossing West Dixie

Highway. Signs ahead told her that the road was about to dead-end into Biscayne Boulevard. Meghan

wasn’t sure where exactly she was, but figured that heading south would put her in roughly the direction

of Key Biscayne, so as she approached the traffic light she pulled into the right-hand lane and put on the

cruiser’s right-turn signal. Behind her, Seth did the same in the Escalade. They turned southbound on

Biscayne Boulevard and came to another light, which was red, with several cars stopped. Meghan pulled

up behind them and glanced into her rearview.

“Shit,” she said.

About a quarter mile behind her she saw a black Navigator turning from Miami Gardens Drive onto

Biscayne Boulevard. She looked up at the light; it was still red. Behind her, the Navigator had made the

turn and was coming fast.

“Shit,” she said again. She looked around the cruiser dashboard. Next to the radio was a panel of red

toggle switches, including one labeled SIREN and one labeled LIGHTBAR. She stuck her left arm out the window

and made a
Follow me
gesture to Seth. Then she flipped the siren and lightbar switches. She flinched at

the sudden loud whoop of the siren, then swerved right onto the right shoulder, passing the cars waiting at

the light. She waved again for Seth to follow, muttering, “Come
on
.” Two seconds later she saw Seth

coming around on the shoulder. She accelerated. Cars were pulling aside to let her by. She glanced into

the rearview and saw that Seth was keeping up. At the moment, she didn’t see the Navigator.

She gripped the wheel and stared ahead, heart pounding, trying to visualize a map of Miami, and a

way to get from here back to the hotel.

52

“I don’t believe this,” said Castronovo. “She’s using the fucking siren.”

“Go around,” said Brewer. He was holding a Huggies Little Snuggler disposable diaper to the

oozing wound Trevor had inflicted on his nose. “We can’t lose them.”

Castronovo drove onto the right shoulder and past the clot of cars. “What’re we gonna do?” he said.

“I’m gonna kill the fucking monkey.”

“OK, but what about the rest of them?”

Brewer thought about that. “First priority, we get the Haitians back,” he said. “Those were Mike’s

orders, get rid of the Haitians. We can’t admit we lost them because we stopped to buy fucking diapers.”

“Which was your idea.”

“All right, it was my idea, but we’re both fucked if Mike finds out.”

Castronovo nodded. “So what’s our plan?”

“We stop the Escalade, get the Haitians back, get rid of them.”

“Get rid of them how?”

“Whatever’s quickest.”

Castronovo gave him a look.

“I’m not saying that,” said Brewer, “necessarily. I’m saying we get them back and dump them

somewhere quick. Mike doesn’t have to know we never made it to Delray. What we
can’t
do is let Seth

take them back to the Ritz.”

“What about Seth and Meghan? They’ll be pissed off, we take the Haitians away. If they keep trying

to be heroes out here”—Castronovo glanced at his watch—“they could miss the wedding.”

“Not our problem. We report to Mike. If Meghan and Seth want to fuck up Tina’s wedding, that’s on

them. But they’re not gonna do that. Once they realize this stupid little game they’re playing is over,

they’ll go back to the Ritz. She’s not gonna piss off her daddy and he’s not gonna pass on all that money.”

“Do we call Mike? Tell him what’s going on?”

“Definitely not,” said Brewer. “Not until we have the Haitians back.”

“There they are,” said Castronovo. In the distance they could see the flashing lightbar of the police

cruiser. Castronovo put a little more pressure on the accelerator. The Navigator surged forward.

Brewer dabbed his oozing nose with the Little Snuggler and said, “I’m gonna kill that monkey.”