A Dark and Lonely Place (53 page)

“ Wrong-house raid. Tipster dropped a dime, said you and the little lady were holed up with an old buddy, your high school football coach.”

“Reggie? Hell, yeah. Haven’t seen him in years.”

“They hit the right house on the wrong street. The address they wanted was eleven twenty-four Northwest Twenty-third; they went to eleven twenty-four Northwest Twenty-fourth. Made a classic wrong house raid.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Happens,” Leon said.

“All the time,” John said. “How bad?”

“Ugly. Shut off the power, smashed windows, and busted down the doors as three sisters, ages seventy-nine, eighty-one, and eighty-seven, was sitting down to supper. The son of one of ’em was visiting to celebrate winning the title of county schoolteacher of the year. They bashed him acrost the head with a billy club, kicked him in the kidneys, and tased him. Twice. His mother had a heart attack and stopped breathing. All of ’em were cuffed, tear-gassed, and roughed up. Trashed that little house. Showed it on TV. I’ve seen plenty, but nothing worse. Tore the bottoms outta all the furniture—the couch, the chairs, the mattresses. Thought you was hiding inside ’em, I guess. A fat cop crawled through the attic and fell, crashed right through the ceiling into a bedroom. Emptied all the drawers, yanked clothes racks outta the closets, and tossed everything. Pulled down the drop ceiling in the kitchen and chased Sparky, the family cat those ladies loved like a child, out the back door. Got backed over by a fire truck brought in to blow the tear gas outta the house and light up the neighborhood in case you was hiding in the bushes. Then they turned loose a K-9 dog to track you, but it bit a pregnant woman taking out the garbage next door.”

“For God’s sake!” John said.

“You wore the badge too,” Leon said. “You were one of ’em.”

“Not me. I never did that.”

“Glad to hear it, Johnny. Whole damn neighborhood turned out. Those little ladies work hard in the community and their church. Everybody loves ’em. Twenty minutes later, rocks and bottles are bouncing
off police cars, and the grocery store on the next block is being looted and set afire. Motorists are being attacked, robbed, carjacked. And it’s spreading, Johnny, just like the bad ol’ days.”

“Damn. Did the chief, the mayor, or city manager step up to do a public mea culpa, suspend the bad guys, and promise to investigate how it happened, to calm things down?”

“Nope. Some sergeant’s the only one to speak up so far. Backed up the cops, said their info was good and they nearly had you, missed you by minutes. The little ladies are in the hospital; the one with the heart attack’s critical. The schoolteacher of the year got locked up for resisting arrest, said more charges are pending. He just bonded out. Had ’im on Channel Six, head bandaged, lip split. The poor man cried on camera. Swore the cops never knocked, never identified themselves as police, just busted in like a mob, demolished the place, threw the old ladies to the floor, cuffed ’em, then beat the crap out of him, trying to make him tell where you were. The man didn’t know. Gonna be a bad night here, Johnny.”

“Be careful,” John said. “Watch yourself.”

“People in that department are guilty of so much,” Leon said. “You’re not their only victim, Johnny. Tell me where you’re at so I can come lend a hand.”

John paused. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Leon. I do. But I’m not sure how to handle this. I’m responsible now for other people whose safety I can’t compromise. My family’s in a bad position because of me. Maybe I’ll just run.”

“Don’t be foolish, Johnny. Keep your cool. Tell me where you are so I can help protect you and them.”

“Thanks for the offer, Leon, but your resources are limited and their reach is so long.” He glanced at Laura, who was half listening but more focused on the scrapbook in front of her. She had moved a table lamp closer in order to read the sometimes faded old newsprint. “This whole thing is beginning to take on a life of its own,” John said. “You have no idea.”

“You may be right, but I’m in touch with folks who can help you. Getting some details tonight, directly from the source. We need to meet, sit down face-to-face.”

“Let me think on it overnight, Leon. I don’t want to risk security where I am now. I’m running out of places to hide. Let’s talk in the morning.”

“Okay, Johnny, but don’t wait too long, they’re pulling out all the stops. They tell the press they’re sure you’re still in Miami. Don’t believe they really think that for a minute. It’s all a smoke screen. Keep looking over your shoulder. Later.”

CHAPTER SIXTY

T
he late TV news covered rioting in Miami. Shopping centers, police substations, and motorists attacked, performances canceled at the Center for the Performing Arts, and classes suspended at Miami-Dade College, both downtown.

Residents stripped supermarket shelves of food and emergency supplies. Businesses were shuttered, locked down, and curfews declared. Trigger-happy Miamians were heavily armed and, in most cases, drunk and angry enough to open fire if provoked.

John watched the coverage, then roamed restlessly through the dark outside Gram’s house. He made sure their car was out of sight, watched for lights, and checked the lane from the main road for fresh tire tracks. He considered stretching a chain across it where it reached Gram’s property but decided against it. No chain would deter gunmen on foot.

Night birds called, crickets chirped, dogs barked in the distance. The bright quarter moon reigned over a star studded night made for love, fresh starts, and new beginnings, not bad endings. The night seemed peaceful, unlike chaotic Miami, hundreds of miles to the southeast. Yet the sweet-smelling night air in this place stirred memories John knew he never had and raised the hair on the back of his neck. How, and where, did this all go so wrong?

He closed his eyes for a long moment, took a deep breath, then went inside.

“Does Gram have an alarm system?”

“Didn’t need it when Grandpa was alive.” Laura shook her head. “Dogs are the best alarms. But hers got old. The last one died six months ago. Gram cried so. She said, ‘At my age, you realize you will never have all the dogs you wanted in your life.’ I was away, working
a lot, and thought it would be easier on her if she didn’t have a puppy. They’re so much work.”

“Yeah, you can’t beat ’em for cute, but in Gram’s case,” John said, “it’s probably best to adopt one or two healthy, mature dogs given up by people who can’t afford ’em. Can’t beat ’em for loyalty. They know instinctively that you saved their lives and they’d give theirs for you. You were right about Françoise. She’s got heart.”

“Wouldn’t scare a soul who saw her,” Laura said, “but she was the best early warning system.”

“Soon as I get the equipment,” John said, “I’ll install motion sensor lights outside.”

“You can do that yourself?”

“Of course. You have no idea how handy I am.” He hugged her.

“I’d keep you even if you weren’t.”

“How right are we for each other?”

“Perfect,” she said. “Always have been, always will be.”

He sighed. “Leon wants to meet, says he can help.”

“I trust him,” Laura said. “He was so committed to the mission the day I picked you up at the overpass. No way he or anyone could have foreseen that it would end the way it did. We can’t hold it against him.”

John nodded. “You’re right. But we don’t know exactly what’s happening in Miami, what duress Leon may be under.”

“He’s been there for us at every turn,” Laura said. “We have no choice. If he can get here, this is the safest place to meet.”

“We’re sitting ducks.” He frowned. “We have to protect Gram. This address is on your driver’s license, gun permit, and voter’s registration. They must have checked here early on and found you hadn’t come home. Gram either doesn’t remember or they talked to the woman who comes in to help her every day. They probably asked her to tip off the local police if you show your face. Either way, they’re coming for us, Laura. I can feel it.” He roamed through the house, turned off all but one light.

“Don’t even think about leaving without me,” she said. “Promise me you won’t.”

He said nothing.

She stared at him in silence, then checked on Gram, who was sleeping peacefully. When Laura joined John in her bedroom, she found
him watching the night from her window. He’d put together an escape plan, but there was only one way in and out by car, and a successful escape through the woods was doubtful at best. Laura had an ATV, a three-wheeler, in the barn, which was now a garage, along with her dark-blue Mustang and Gram’s Oldsmobile. The gas tanks were all full. He had checked them.

Her hair spilled across the pillow as black and shiny as a raven’s wing. She sat up as he came to bed. Silver moonlight filtered through the trees and the sheer curtains in her windows. She took his face in her hands.

“Let’s learn from the past, darlin’. We can’t ignore those who’ve gone before, John,” she said softly. “I feel so close to them. But I know now that if we carry the seeds of disaster in our genes, we have to outsmart that reckless death wish that took them to the brink. I want us to marry, have children, and live the life the first John and Laura never had but always wanted.

“The first John and Laura,” she repeated dreamily as he held her. “What if they weren’t the first? What if it was possible to dig deeper into the vast tapestry of the past and find others? What if this is something that happens every hundred years or so until we finally get it right?”

“If the pattern’s in our DNA, can we break it? Can we change our own destiny? Or does it always have to end the same way?” he wondered aloud.

“I don’t, I won’t, believe that,” she said, her arms around him. “Learning from the mistakes of the past helps us change the future. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“I know how this sounds,” he said, “but years ago a friend told me I had flashbacks and symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. I laughed it off, then. That was years before I ever picked up a gun and went to war—or pinned on a badge and patrolled Miami. But even then, violence was never a stranger. And when it came, I was ready, knew what to do, and had no fear. But now I do. My biggest fear is losing you. I can feel it. The end is coming. It’s real.”

“I wish we had met sooner and had more time together,” she said wistfully. “I feel cheated.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “When I
was young, I’d dream of Seattle, New Orleans, and a man. I could never quite see his face, but now I know it was you. When I saw those cities years later, I recognized them, knew the landmarks. Some were gone, others not exactly the way I’d seen them in my dreams. And you weren’t there either, but I felt your presence. Remember what your mother said about us?”

“She was right,” he said. “We were meant to be together, but the day we met, our lives took a downward spiral. The question is, how strong is the past? You think we have a chance? Does anybody?”

“We can change the end,” she whispered with absolute certainty, and gently raked her teeth across his ear. “But just in case, let’s make love now as if it’s for the last time.”

“We always do,” he whispered, and reached for her.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

T
hings have simmered down some,” Leon reported in an early call the next morning. Sporadic violence still flared, he said, which wasn’t unusual in Miami.

“But the hotel and tourism groups are afraid the press coverage might hurt business. They’re still demanding that the mayor ask the governor to send in the National Guard to keep the peace.

“The politicians are against it, say the police can handle it themselves. Hell, it was the police who started it.”

John agreed to meet, but before revealing his location, he asked Leon to dispose of the pre-paid cell phone he was using and call him back on a new one.

John, Laura, and Gram discussed the new echoes from the past at breakfast. Gram knew the story. So did they, now. In 1915, after John Ashley was sentenced to hang, his younger brother, Bobby, tried to save him. In a daring daylight attempt to break John out of jail, Bobby killed the jailer, then fought a gun battle in the street with Police Officer J. R. Riblet. The exchange fatally wounded both. Miamians, afraid that Ashley’s gang would raid the city, demanded that the mayor ask the governor to send in the National Guard to keep the peace.

“The more things change, the more they stay the same,” Gram said. She winked and sipped her tea, as she rocked in her favorite chair, a colorful, hand-knit afghan draped across the arm.

“We think it’s best,” Laura said eagerly, “to learn all we can from the past, then take a different path.”

Gram’s eyes grew sad as she listened and watched them together.

John was relieved when she said her home helper had the day off. They could decide what to do about the woman tomorrow.

Leon rang back on his new phone. “You won’t regret this, Johnny,” he said as he took down the address and directions. “I think things are looking up. We’ll be there as quick as we can.”

“We?” John asked, suddenly wary.

“A colleague’s coming along,” Leon said.

“Anybody I know?” John paced.

“Nope.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Not about him. You’ve got lotsa other things to worry about. Focus on them. This is somebody you want to see.”

“We trust you, man,” John said. “Don’t give us away.”

“Later, Johnny.”

It would take all day to reach Gram’s by car.

John and Laura spent hours deciphering Leugenia’s notes from the scrapbook margins and her Bible and talking with Gram. Sharp and clever, Gram had a quicker recall of events from eighty years ago than those that happened last week.

At four o’clock John and Laura had tea and biscuits, while Gram sipped her daily scotch and soda. “I’m younger than most people my age,” she said at one point. They agreed.

Laura raided the freezer, thawed a roast, and popped it into the oven with herbs from Gram’s garden, then scrubbed potatoes for baking. John savored the aroma and the atmosphere of comfortable domesticity, keenly aware that it might be only a brief and tantalizing taste, all they’d ever have, as the past closed in on them.