Red-Hot Vengeance (5 page)

Williams let himself be kissed with passion. The closeness and warmth of Kyle’s body, the soft caresses of his hands, and their tongues dancing an amorous waltz made Williams feel whole. The problems usually invading his mind were blurred by the only thought of Kyle and the awareness of his presence.

Kyle pushed Williams away from him and looked into his eyes. Williams was hardly blinking at all. His eyes were slightly watered and his pupils were widened into two tiny black mirrors. Kyle ran his fingers through his lover’s curly hair. He took a steady posture and cleared his voice.

“How can I live without thee, how forgo

Thy sweet converse and love so dearly joined

To live again in these wild woods forlorn?” Kyle made a pause and breathed before continuing.

“Should God create another Eve… Uh, no wait,” he said, frowning.

“Should God create another Josh, and I

Another rib afford, yet loss of thee

Would never from my heart; no no, I feel

Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state

Mine shall never be parted, bliss or woe.”

“Wow,” Williams said. “You actually learned Milton by heart, that’s… wow.”

“Because I know you like it,” Kyle winked. “Happy anniversary, Josh.”

“Thanks. I feel bad now, because I have nothing for you,” Williams sighed.

“Josh, holding you in my arms right now is the most beautiful gift I could wish for.”

Williams was led by the hand into the kitchen where the table was set. A nice perfume emanated from the oven. There were three candles in the middle of the table.

“One for each year,” Kyle explained. “Sit down.”

“Don’t you need a hand?” Williams offered.

“No, you look exhausted. Let me take care of you.”

Williams smiled and obeyed. After all, his lover was so good at cooking and serving the most delicious meals with the most precious wine that he needn’t worry. He allowed himself to sit back and enjoy dinner.

**

“Hey, you look good,” Cowley exclaimed when she saw Williams come into the office.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile.

“How come?” Cowley asked. “I mean, yesterday was a pretty bad day, so…” she added when she noticed that her question might seem impolite. “What’s your secret?”

“A morning walk through Central Park?” Williams was still smiling. There was more than Central Park to his good mood, but Cowley didn’t need to know that.

“Central Park?” Cowley’s tone denoted surprise. “Isn’t that a bit far from your place for a morning walk?”

“Nope.” Williams simply answered.

“Did you move?” Cowley insisted with enthusiasm. She liked knowing the whereabouts of her colleagues.

“Yep.”

“Where? When?” she added.

“Central Park, about four months ago.” Williams knew the conversation could last for a while so he walked toward the coffee machine.

“Four months?” Cowley said, following him. “And you’re only telling me this now?”

“You didn’t ask before.” Williams wanted his tone to sound conclusive, cutting short Cowley’s questions. She seemed to be reflecting so he thought it had worked and started sipping on his coffee.

“Why did you move?” Cowley asked after a pause.

Williams rolled his eyes. “Personal reasons,” he said, this time more decisively.

Williams had his reasons for not wishing to share that he had moved in with his boyfriend. Many years ago, when he had announced to his family that he liked men, they had all stopped talking to him, except his younger sister. His parents had thrown him out of the house. And when he’d asked his older sister for help, she’d laughed at him. Luckily, his other sister, who was studying in another city, had welcomed him to her student flat.

They’d lived in that small space for a almost five years. After much trouble, they’d eventually been able to get a bigger flat in Manhattan. Williams was more and more successful at the police academy, while his sister worked on her PhD at university. Some years later, she’d been offered a position in Toronto and had moved, leaving Williams alone in the apartment.

Williams had never seen his family in Chicago again. He had tried to talk to them several times on the phone, but they would always hang up as soon as his sister passed over the receiver. Williams was of course deeply hurt of losing his family. But he refused to get married with a woman and be sad for his whole life just to please them. He refused to stop being himself.

Those were probably the reasons why he lacked self-confidence. Dr Gomes, his psychoanalyst, kept telling him that he had to look at the future rather than the past. Thus, four months back, Williams had decided to apply that advice and had moved in with Kyle. They had been together for three years, and Williams had never been happier. So it seemed like the good time to take the relationship to the next stage.

“Why are you so secretive about yourself?” Cowley asked, pulling Williams away from his memories.

“Personal reasons,” he repeated. “And I just told you where I live; is that being secretive?” he added with a grin. “Besides, I don’t know much about you either.”

“Because there’s nothing to know about me,” Cowley laughed. “I’m bloody uninteresting.”

“No one’s uninteresting.”

“Then I must be the exception that confirms the rule.” Williams was staring at her interrogatively so she continued. “I’ve spent my whole life in New York, I was a cheerleader in high school, and I live with my mom and our cat,” she lectured.

“How about the rest of your family, your dad?” Williams asked, still sipping on his coffee.

“I… don’t wish to talk about him,” Cowley answered as the smile disappeared from her face.

“Why not?” Williams insisted.

“Personal reasons.”

“Ah. So you see my point, now,” he concluded. Cowley nodded, half agreeing half apologizing. Williams didn’t let the silent make her feel bad. “Anyway,” he said to change subject. “What do we know about Carter?”

“He punched me,” Cowley growled.

“And ran away,” Williams finished. “Let’s see the bright side: at least we know he’s back in New York.”

“Yes. He didn’t change at all,” Cowley indicated. “But, his face is known to everyone in this department, so we have a good chance of catching him.”

“How long do you think he’s been back?”

“Without us knowing? I’d like to think that he just arrived,” she answered with not much confidence. “How about the ruby, do you think he has it?”

“I don’t know,” Williams winced. “I did see it on that counter, but it was gone after the chaos.”

“I don’t think he was carrying it when he punched me. He only had his gun. And he dropped it when he surrendered.”

“He surrendered?” Williams asked in an astonished voice.

“Yeah, I should have been more surprised at the time,” Cowley admitted. “Then maybe I’d have seen the punch coming.”

“Stop blaming yourself,” Williams reassured her. “It could have been anyone.”

“But it was me.”

Williams feigned he didn’t hear her last remark. He poured himself a second cup of coffee instead. “Why would he surrender? It makes absolutely no sense,” he wondered out loud.

“Well, his intention wasn’t
actually
to surrender,” Cowley said. “He did escape in less than five minutes, you know.”

“Yep, right. You know what, I’ll go ask his former landlord. Maybe he knows something.” Williams gave his cup to Cowley and walked out of the room.

An hour later, Williams was back at the office. He hadn’t been able to find anything. Carter’s old apartment was empty since he’d left the year before; no one wanted to live in a garage. Williams had asked the owner if he knew anything, but obviously, Carter hadn’t left any address.

Meanwhile, Cowley been looking for him in online data, but without any result so far. There was no phone number associated with his name, no credit card, and no address either.

“There must be a trace of him somewhere,” Williams said. “Except if he’s improved in that domain.”

“What do you mean, improved?”

“Carter is so confident in his escape skills that he usually doesn’t bother to really erase his traces,” Williams explained.

“Weird,” Cowley reacted. “Maybe he’s not actually in New York,” she tried. “Maybe he was just dropping by for that auction sale.”

“That’s not like him either,” Williams contested.

“You seem to know him a lot,” Cowley noticed suspiciously.

“I’ve been confronted to him in the past,” Williams said. “And as I was never able to catch him—and keep him—I started doing research to know him better in the hope of predicting his moves.”

“Good initiative.”

“Yep, but it hasn’t really paid off,” Williams regretted.

“Where did you do that research?” Cowley asked.

“Mostly asking a former FBI agent who had worked on his case. And with some of Carter’s friends,” he exposed as if filling a form. “But that was quite a while ago, I don’t know where those people are now.”

“Except for one.”

“Who?”

“Rafael López,” Cowley said as if it was obvious.

“Yep. He’s a bit angry at me, so I don’t know if he’ll talk, but I can try.” Williams pulled his jacket back on. “Keep trying to track the ruby. See you later.”

**

Following Cowley’s advice, and as he often did when it came to knowing about Carter’s whereabouts (because she kept an analytical mind while he tended to get fast angry or annoyed), Williams headed for Lower Manhattan and the pub where López worked. As soon as he walked in, he knew something was wrong. He sat at the bar and waited. Waited for a long time. López eventually showed up in front of him.

“Hello,” he said in a low voice. “What can I get you?”

“What’s wrong?” Williams asked. “I’m used to seeing you a lot more cheerful than that.”

“I have… personal problems,” the bartender answered under his breath.

“I can help, you know,” Williams offered.

“I don’t think you can.”

“I—”

“Are you gonna drink anything?” López interrupted. “My boss doesn’t like it when people come here only to talk to me.”

“Sure, give me a beer,” Williams complied. He waited again while López poured the drink. “Tell me what’s going on,” he said when his friend came back to him. “I know you,” he continued because López wasn’t answering. “And I know the difference between a little personal problem and an oh-my-god-I’m-in-deep-shit problem. So talk.”

López raised his eyes to meet Williams’ hard look. The cop instantly saw that López had been crying.

“I’ve been threatened,” López said. “A woman. She asked for Reese. And because I didn’t give her what she wanted, she said she would destroy the pub.”

“What did she want to know?” Williams asked.

“She was just looking for Reese,” López answered in a voice so low that Williams almost had to read on his lips. “But she was so scary and looked so determined to kill Reese that I didn’t want to risk giving him up. I know he can defend himself, but… you know.”

“Hm…” Williams reflected. “And had you ever seen her before?”

“No. Never.”

“What does she look like?”

“Blond, brown eyes. Dressed entirely in black. She wore a lot of rings.” That description rang a bell, but Williams didn’t have time to ponder it. “She’ll be here any minute now,” López said. “You shouldn’t stay here.”

“Of course I’ll stay. I’ll go sit over there and watch her moves. I’ll be ready in case she tries anything,” Williams promised.

A blond woman corresponding to López’s description soon walked into the pub. She stretched her hand toward the bartender. López shook his head slowly. Williams got up. His eyes widened when he saw how fast the woman had pointed the gun at him.

“No!” López shouted. He clung to her arm, making the shot go into the furniture instead of Williams’ head.

“You really
are
a fucking nuisance, mister López,” the woman spat at him. She hit him with the back of her gun and he fell behind the counter.

People were screaming and fighting their way out of the pub. Williams was hiding behind a table. He took out his gun and risked an eye over the table. He saw the woman shoot López. The bartender yelled in pain. Williams raged. If he had called for backup right away, the situation would certainly not have been so bad. From where he was, he couldn’t see López, but he could still hear him, which meant he was alive. All was not lost. He had to stop that woman before she made her promise real.

“Turn around and drop the weapon,” Williams shouted.

But instead of paying him any attention, she ran to the door and fired three times. A second later, a rocket was fired into the pub. Williams jumped under the tables once more. The noise of the explosion was deafening. People screamed for help. Blood splashed on the bottles. Soon the whole place was on fire.

Williams swore. The explosion had made him momentarily deaf. His vision was blurred by blood and sweat. He got up and walked dizzily in between the tables. There were people crouching with their hands over their heads, crying, praying, coughing. Williams did his best to help them out.