“For chrissake, don’t thank me. I’m just trying to keep you
alive.”
She started to back away, but he caught her shoulders, dragged
her up on her toes and kissed her, deep and thoroughly. “We’ll get through this,
all right?”
She nodded, still feeling the imprint of his mouth over hers.
“Okay.”
For the first time Alex smiled. “Time to go, Red.”
Wishing she didn’t have to relive the entire experience again
at the police station, she let Alex guide her out of the hotel room down the
hall to the elevator. At least they didn’t need a bellman.
All she had to carry was her purse.
* * *
Rina was edgy and nervous as they drove toward the
station. Several times along the way, she caught Alex checking the rearview
mirror to see if they were being followed. It was just a precaution, since no
one had followed them last night, but in the makeup mirror above her seat, she
found herself doing the same. Nothing looked suspicious, just the usual buzz of
traffic headed downtown.
“I’d better phone my mother,” she said. “I don’t think the
attack will make the Uvalde news, but it might.”
“Whatever you do, don’t tell her where to find you. Just give
her the disposable number and keep the story simple. A mugging. That’s all that
happened.”
“Got it.”
She kept the call brief, explaining about the men and the
shooting. “We just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Dear God, Alex shot the man?” her mother said.
“It was self-defense, Mom. The police understand what
happened.”
“Oh, dear. Is Alex all right?”
Sabrina flicked a glance in his direction, tried not to think
of that last hot kiss. “He’s fine.”
“I’m just so thankful he was with you when it happened. You’re
sure you’re okay?”
“We’re both okay.” She gave her mother the number on the
disposable phone, then signed off.
“Police headquarters are just up ahead,” Alex said.
Sabrina took a deep breath, bolstering her courage.
When was this ever going to end?
Twenty-Three
T
he pavement burned the soles of her
flip-flops as Rina approached the imposing, multistoried police headquarters
building on Travis Street in downtown Houston.
Alex checked in at the front desk, speaking with an attractive
blonde police officer, and a few minutes later, a young patrolman came out and
led them down a long white hallway into an interview room that held a table and
four black vinyl chairs. A mirror covered one wall, which Rina presumed was the
see-through kind she had seen on TV cop shows.
The young patrolman brought them each a foam cup of
coffee—thank you, God—and a few minutes later, Homicide Detective Colin Murphy
arrived, one of the two who had interviewed them last night at the minimart. A
freckle-faced man with red hair going to gray, Murphy settled into the chair
across from Alex and began asking questions.
“This won’t take long,” Murphy said. “There’s just a few more
things we need to go over.”
Most of the questions were the same as the ones he had asked
last night.
He got the same answers.
Rina had no trouble recalling what had happened. The incident
was burned into her brain.
“Depending on where our investigation leads,” Murphy said, “you
may be asked to come in and look at some mug shots, see if you can pick out the
other men who assaulted you.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Alex said.
Murphy skimmed through the pages of the police report.
“Anything else either of you want to add?”
Alex flicked her a glance. “Only that this isn’t the first
attempt on Ms. Eckhart’s life.”
Murphy’s head came up. “That so?”
Rina flicked Alex a warning glance, reminding him of the deal
they had made, then listened as he told Detective Murphy about the helo crash,
referring them to Sheriff Dickens, and the accident on the freeway.
“And you believe these incidents are all connected?”
“We aren’t completely sure,” Rina said before Alex could
answer, “but it’s possible.”
“Do you have any idea who might be behind the attacks?”
“At this point,” Alex said, “we have nothing more to go on than
a string of bad luck. We come up with something you’ll be the first to
know.”
Murphy turned in Rina’s direction. “You realize, Ms. Eckhart,
even if Justice here is right, we can’t offer you police protection. As far as
the department’s concerned, last night was a mugging gone bad. We don’t have
anything to tie what happened to you before with what happened at the
minimart.”
“Ms. Eckhart has private protection,” Alex reminded him.
“That being you.”
“That’s right. It’s my job to keep her safe.”
Murphy’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Seems to me you did a
fine job last night.”
Alex flicked Rina a glance and his mouth edged up. “That’s what
I get paid for.” A look passed between them, and Alex winked.
If she hadn’t been so depressed, Rina would have laughed.
* * *
Cell phone pressed to his ear, Henry tipped his recliner
forward, folding the footrest out of the way under his feet.
“Jesus Christ, tell me you haven’t screwed up again!”
Ignoring the irate voice on the other end of the line, Henry
grabbed the remote and turned the volume down on the TV. “The guy’s got fucking
nine lives.”
“What about the man he shot? The news report said he was dead.
Can the police connect him to Ortega?”
“I don’t think so. Hector knows a lot of people. I don’t think
he knew the dead guy personally, just paid some bangers to handle it for a
price.”
“Yeah—ten thousand dollars.”
“Hey, you only had to pay the first five since the job didn’t
get done.”
“I don’t give a crap. It’s money I can’t afford. I don’t like
it, Henry. I’m tired of sticking my neck out.”
“Well, I don’t like that we still don’t get the fucking
money!”
“Listen to me. This guy Justice isn’t a fool. He knows it’s one
of us—just not which one. We need to lay low for a while, let all this blow
over.”
No goddamn way,
Henry thought. He
needed his share of the money and he was going to get it. “You got a shitload of
bills. What do you plan to do about that?”
A disgruntled sigh seeped into the phone. “I’ll manage. Just
let it go. Ending up in jail isn’t part of my plan.”
It wasn’t Henry’s plan either, but he wasn’t about to walk away
from a deal worth millions. He needed Rina Eckhart dead, and he was going to
make that happen. Once it was accomplished, his old high school chum would owe
him big-time.
“Listen, Henry, it’s just too dangerous. If things change, I’ll
give you a call. Till then, it’s better if we don’t talk.”
Henry reached over and plucked his cigarette out of the
ashtray, took a heavy drag. He blew a smoke ring into the air, watched it float
away. “Whatever you say, boss.”
The phone went dead, and Henry smiled. So far he hadn’t been
able to get the job done, but neither had he left any trace that would lead back
to him or anyone else.
Still, in a way his boss was right. They needed to wait for the
right opportunity. He had connections of his own. He’d be able to work something
out.
He remembered the old saying.
If you want
something done right, do it yourself.
Henry leaned back in his recliner and turned the volume up on
the TV.
* * *
Alex sat next to Sabrina in Detective Danny Castillo’s
crowded office, his second stop at police headquarters. The office was small and
unimpressive, with manila files stacked on the floor and spread all over the
metal desk. A photo of Castillo’s wife and three kids sat on top, and framed
commendations hung on the walls.
“Thanks for giving us a hand with this, Detective,” Alex said,
taking Castillo’s measure. Head of the gang division, Castillo was a tall,
good-looking Hispanic man with short black hair combed straight back and
jet-black eyes.
“Happy to help if I can.”
Mentioning Trace’s name had gotten him the appointment, since
the two men had worked together before. Castillo seated himself, then leaned
forward in his chair, propping his forearms on the brown desk pad on top. His
shirtsleeves were rolled up and Alex noticed a small blue ink tattoo on his
wrist, wondered if he’d gotten it in his youth or from working undercover.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Castillo said. Over the phone,
Alex had told him about the homicide last night, so the detective knew most of
what had happened.
Digging out his iPhone, Alex replaced the battery, enabling the
phone, then turned it on and brought up the screen. He handed the phone to the
detective, showing him the photos he’d taken of the dead man’s arm, framed by
the cutout sleeves of his faded black T-shirt. The tat ran from wrist to
shoulder and wrapped all the way around the arm.
“I need a closer look,” Castillo said. “Let’s upload the photos
onto my computer.”
It didn’t take long to make the transfer from the cell phone
camera into Castillo’s machine. iPhones took great pictures and even at night,
these were good. Across the monitor, dragons and snakes in red, green and blue
crawled up the hard-muscled arm. Openmouthed skulls ate something that looked
like a human version of a vampire bat, and snakes wound their way out of the
skull’s empty eyes.
Castillo fixed his attention on the enlarged photo on the
computer screen.
“This wasn’t done in any prison. It’s really fine work. I’d say
it’s local. Artist named Leon Crutch does this kind of thing.”
Castillo studied the picture, his black eyes going over every
line. “Crutch always leaves his initials camouflaged somewhere in the design.”
He pointed to the screen. “See, here’s the
L
and
over here’s the
C.
Leon Crutch.” He looked up. “Even
if you don’t like the subject matter, the man’s a real artist.”
Alex made no comment. Tattoos weren’t high on his list of good
ideas. He kept imagining what the designs would look like when the skin beneath
the tat got old and saggy. “Any chance you could print that for me?”
Castillo clicked the mouse and a few seconds later, a copy of
the picture came out of the printer. Castillo made a copy for himself and handed
one of them to Alex.
He passed Sabrina the photo to hold on to. “I need to talk to
Crutch. Where do I find him?”
“He’s got a shop on Tetley Street, Living Color. Got an
apartment upstairs, so he’s usually around most of the day.” He slid his own
photocopy over to a corner of his desk. “Detectives on the case’ll want this
information. I’ll pass it on to them. They talk to you about Crutch, be better
if you don’t tell them how you got his name.”
“Not a problem.”
Castillo stood up from his chair, and Alex and Sabrina rose, as
well. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Eckhart.”
“You, too, Detective. Thank you for your help.”
“If you hear anything,” Alex said, “I’d appreciate a call. This
goes way deeper than a mugging. Someone wants Sabrina dead and whoever it is
isn’t going to stop until someone stops them.”
One of Castillo’s black eyebrows went up. “You tell the
detectives that?”
“I told Murphy. He’s the lead on the case. We don’t have enough
proof to name names. Maybe this will help.”
He held the door as Sabrina and Castillo walked out into the
hallway. The corridor was even busier than it was before, the elevators crowded
as Castillo accompanied them back to the main part of the building.
“I’ll let you know if anything comes up,” the detective
said.
“Appreciate it.” Alex led Sabrina across the lobby to the thick
glass doors, held them open to allow a heavyset woman and her two young boys to
walk past. Sabrina was quiet as they moved along the sidewalk toward the police
station parking lot, pigeons fluttering out of their way to let them pass.
“How would my cousins even know people like those?” she
asked.
“You mean street thugs? They’re like gutter rats. Easier to
find than you might think. These days, money buys damn near anything. You just
have to figure out who to ask.”
She just kept walking, looking even more exhausted than she had
that morning. He knew she was thinking about her family, wondering if one of
them was trying to kill her. She didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t really
blame her.
“Are we going to see this man, Crutch?”
“I am. First we’re going to the office. I’m leaving you there
with Jake and Ben till I get back.”
Sabrina stopped dead in her tracks, whirled and pressed a hand
against his chest. “I am not sitting in your office while your friends babysit.
I’m going with you, Alex. I want to hear what this man has to say.”
“It won’t take long and I need you someplace safe.”
“I’m safe with you. You proved that last night. I’ve never felt
safer in my life.”
He released a slow breath. He’d been careful driving to the
hotel last night and leaving again this morning. There had been no opportunity
to bug the car and his cell phone was once more disabled. Maybe if he let her go
with him to the tattoo parlor, she’d give him less flack when he left her with
Ben and Jake.
“It’s my life we’re talking about,” she pressed. “Besides, I
might think of something useful.”
Alex opened the passenger door. “Fine. But once we get there, I
do the talking.”
Sabrina just nodded and quietly climbed into the car. He wasn’t
fooled for a minute. She was pushing her luck and she was smart enough to know
it. But Tetley Street wasn’t in a bad section of town, and even with Jake and
Ben watching out for her, he would worry.
And dammit, when had worrying about Sabrina become way more
than a job?
* * *
Rebecca listened to the voice on Alex’s cell phone,
directing her call straight to the messaging center. She glanced back at the TV,
at the reporter broadcasting from the minimart parking lot where a vicious
mugging had occurred last night. One man was dead in a robbery attempt on Alex
Justice and Sabrina Eckhart as they walked out of the store.
The newscaster, a woman in her thirties with short blond hair,
spoke into the microphone as the camera swung toward the convenience mart.
“This is the second time in the past few weeks that Alexander
Justice, a private investigator with Atlas Security, has been in the news. The
first involved the case of ten-year-old Carrie Wiseman, the little girl who was
brutally raped and murdered three years ago.”
As the reporter went on to retell the story of Edward Bagley
and the accusations of his alleged involvement in the murder, Rebecca heard the
thud of heavy boots behind her and turned to see Joe McCauley shoving through
the back door into the kitchen. She ignored a little tremor of awareness as he
came up behind her.
“God, Joe, have you seen the news? Someone attacked Alex and
Sabrina last night on their way home from dinner. Alex killed one of them.”
His big hands came to rest gently on her shoulders. “I saw it.
It’s all right. Both of them are okay.”
She could feel the rise and fall of his powerful chest against
her back, and her heartbeat quickened. She turned to face him, forced herself to
take a step away. “I tried to call him. Alex isn’t answering his phone.”
“He’s turned it off. Probably trying to dodge the media.”
She grabbed her purse off the counter. “Something’s wrong. I
want to know what’s going on.” She and Alex had always been close. Even as kids,
they’d shared a sort of sixth sense that told them when one of them was in
trouble. Over the years that hadn’t changed.
Rebecca hadn’t seen Alex since they’d gone to the hospital
together to see Sabrina. He’d been frantic to get to her, terrified she had been
badly injured. Though her brother didn’t seem to know, it was clear he was at
least half in love with the woman. Now something else had happened.