The Chase (10 page)

“Sort of. I can be there in the next hour.”

“Better hurry. He’ll be going into surgery shortly.”

“What is the extent of his injuries?”

“Sir, if you were family—”

“I’m the closest he has.”

The woman hesitated.

“Is he dying?” Tigo asked.

“Mr. Jackson has internal bleeding. He’s critical but conscious.”

“I’m leaving now.” Tigo hung up. This sounded legit, but he didn’t plan to take any chances and risk walking into a firefight at the hospital parking lot. He called the ER at Ben Taub to confirm Joseph Jackson was being treated. Bingo — fourth floor, critical wound unit. This was the real deal. Jo-Jack must fear for his life or he wouldn’t have had a call placed to Tigo.

Glancing at Kariss, he had an idea. Why not invite her to accompany him and Ryan on a field trip to the hospital? She’d see firsthand what happens when someone crossed the wrong people or was seen tagging along with an FBI special agent. Maybe a long look at Jo-Jack would persuade her to abandon this unrealistic quest. Her book using Cherished Doe had potential, and he wished her well. Her interest in his current case was another matter, one she didn’t need to be a part of. Harsh reality, but a good lesson.

JULY

K
ariss sat alone in one of the waiting rooms of the medical center’s surgical area and waited. Jo-Jack’s surgery had taken over three hours, and he hadn’t been moved to recovery yet. Needing a decent cup of coffee, she texted Tigo and told him she was headed to the McDonald’s located in the hospital’s basement. She didn’t want either agent to exit the surgical area and not be able to locate her.

As she took the elevator down, she pondered Jo-Jack’s situation. She didn’t see how an injured man could survive a knife wound to the abdomen, and the longer the doctors kept him in surgery the less she counted on Jo-Jack’s chances of survival. How did people live in such fear and chaos? This wasn’t a movie. It was real life. Men like Tigo and Ryan worked in an unsafe environment to ensure the safety of those living in Houston and the surrounding area. The agents had a tough job, one she didn’t want but one she valued.

You’d better suck it up and deal with the reality of crime if you’re going to run with the big dogs.

Back in the waiting room now, the bitter coffee left a horrible taste in her mouth that breath mints only temporarily disguised. Her concern for Jo-Jack, a man she’d never met, hindered her creativity and ability to take notes. She closed her eyes. Her parents would pray in this situation, and perhaps she should too.

Vicki’s pregnancy had jolted Kariss too. Her sister shouldn’t have married Wyatt. He had a reputation of sleeping with women and stringing them along like abacus beads. When the thrill vanished, he dumped them. Vicki had fallen for his lines every time he proved unfaithful. Why the man wanted her to marry him was obvious — he had political aspirations, and Vicki was his arm ornament.

Shaking her head to dispel the many thoughts bombarding her brain, Kariss walked across the room to a window. Outside gray clouds hovered over the city and darkened the room.

The sound of male voices coming down the hall broke the silence of her thoughts. Two men, both wearing black head bandanas and black T-shirts strolled into the vacant waiting room. Perhaps if she hadn’t been privy to Jo-Jack’s informant work and Tigo’s run-in with a gang, she wouldn’t feel so apprehensive. She eased into a dimly lit corner and hoped their visit was short lived.

“He’s still in surgery. So what do we do?” one man said in Spanish.

“We’ll get our chance.”

The first man swore. “I don’t like sticking around hospitals. Too many cops here.”

“Don’t have a choice. We gotta finish what we started. I thought he’d bleed out.”

“Let’s hope he didn’t talk. No matter. He’s a dead man for claiming he slept with my sister.”

“What about Cheeky?”

“I’ll take care of him.”

Kariss’s heart ached from its incessant pounding. Could they hear her reaction? They were talking murder, and she knew they meant Jo-Jack. Or anyone who got in their way. That meant Tigo or Ryan. Her friends could walk down the hall any minute and get nailed by these guys. She had to warn them … Tigo and Ryan carried guns … The men in the waiting room must have weapons too.

Heroics weren’t on the list of traits required for a writer. But she could text Tigo and warn him. Gulping in air, she walked back into the waiting room to where her purse rested and grabbed her phone and laptop.

She waited and stared out the window while straining to hear any more conversation.

Moments crept by. Finally her cell buzzed with a text.

No problem. She’d simply gather up her things and stroll past the two men. Pretend she didn’t understand them and possibly give them a smile and take note of any distinguishing physical features. That made sense. If only her knees would stop shaking so she could move. Holding onto her cell phone, she sensed the men’s eyes on her, and again her heart thudded until her chest hurt. The tattoos on their upper arms … weren’t those gang signs?

Kariss turned around. The open waiting area allowed her to leave freely, but they would get a clear look at her.

“How long do we wait?” one man said.

“For as long as it takes.” The other man laughed

She caught a glimpse of the scoffer’s face, one she sealed into memory. Her unsteady legs moved her on. The clip of footsteps approaching the waiting room sent fear to her fingertips.

Stay calm. The two men on a murder mission have no clue you understood them.

Whoever walked her way might not be Tigo or Ryan though. She was safe unless the terror in her face gave her away.

Tigo and Ryan came into view, and she dropped her phone, its guts spewing over the floor. She caught Tigo’s gaze and hoped the stats about nonverbal body language were right.

Her jaw tightened, and she hurried toward them, hoping her terrified gaze alerted them to the men seated behind her. She mouthed “two men” then “not good.”

Both agents pulled their weapons, the metal glistening. This happened in other writers’ books. Not hers. Not real life. Her pulse sped faster. Ryan pushed her behind him.

The two killers stood and hurried into the hall, passing Kariss, Ryan and Tigo.

“¡Detente! ¡Policía!”
Tigo said in Spanish, but they kept moving.

Gunfire pierced the air, and Kariss sank to the floor, paralyzed by horror.

Scuffling.

Tigo’s repeated demands for them to stop.

Screams.

Footsteps racing away.

Moments later Tigo’s voice drew her back to reality. “It’s over, Kariss.”

She opened her eyes to blood splattered on the walls and a man’s body sprawled facedown on the floor. The sterile surroundings had been contaminated.

“Don’t look at him.” Tigo’s once-firm voice now held compassion. A security guard stood over the man’s body. Tigo bent beside her. “Stay here. Do
not
answer any questions about what you witnessed.”

She drew in air, determined not to show weakness. Her experience with dead bodies had been through photos. Not this. “Where’s Ryan?”

“Chasing down the other guy. I’m going to help.”

Kariss slowly stood and faced the security guard. A small crowd formed behind her. A movie script. The good guys always won.

The security guard hurried to her side. “Miss, are you all right?”

She nodded. Of course she’d be okay. The trauma was mental not physical. Acid rose from her stomach, but she fought it. Tigo and Ryan would find the other man.

Her gaze trailed away from the body then back again. Police officers arrived, probably from the ER, and surrounded the body. All asked her questions, but just as Tigo instructed, she didn’t give a statement.

Kariss sank back to the floor and stared at the blood on the walls, the body, and the police officers for what seemed like an hour — or was it simply minutes? A life had been wasted in the name of violence. She shivered. No wonder Tigo invested his time and knowledge to end gang warfare.

Finally the two agents came around the corner. Kariss just wanted to make sure they were unharmed and to hear the man had been apprehended.

“I didn’t say anything to them.” She hoped her words sounded braver than she felt.

“Good.” Tigo nodded at Ryan, who passed them to stand inside the yellow crime-scene tape. “We didn’t catch him, Kariss.”

“That means I can identify him.” She looked into his face, knowing the answer yet fearing his response and the implication.

“Yes, it does. They’re members of the Arroyos.”

Her life now balanced on the same tightrope as Jo-Jack’s.

Tigo’s job description didn’t include babysitting women writers who’d gotten themselves in over their heads in … research. But he wanted to make sure Kariss wasn’t in shock over what she’d seen. She needed to be escorted from this scene before her face or name was flashed across the evening news. The media would soon swarm the area like flies at a dumpster.

He left her alone while he wove through the small crowd to Ryan, who’d knelt to examine the body. The dead man’s bandana had been pushed back when he fell, revealing the Arroyos’ gang sign. “Hey,” Tigo said. “I’m getting Kariss out of the hospital.”

“Good idea. I’ll handle things here and report in later.” Standing, Tigo caught Kariss’s attention — obviously shaken, as was evident in her eyes, but in control. She was stronger than he’d given her credit for. He walked to her side and helped her up from the floor. “I’m getting you away from this before the media arrive.”

“You mean the vultures?”

Odd response since she’d been one.

They made their way onto an empty elevator. Her face reflected the shock of what had just happened. “If … if I’m interpreting this right, by leaving the scene I’m making sure the media can’t snap pictures and link me to the crime.”

“Correct. I don’t think this is your idea of publicity and promotion.”

“Thank you. I don’t have a death wish either.” She patted his arm. “I’m okay on my own.”

“Those aren’t the words of a fluff writer.”

“I’ve never been fluff. And thanks for getting me out of here.”

The elevator door opened to a handful of media types.

“Kariss,” said a man who needed a haircut. “How did you get here so fast? That firefight just happened.”

She lifted her head, and Tigo could tell by her demeanor that she’d assumed a role. Good for her.

“Hi, Mike. Looks like you arrived too late,” she said as she exited the elevator.

The elevator filled behind her, leaving Mike behind. His attention whipped to the closing door and back to her. “You got an exclusive? How do you rate?”

She smiled. “I’m a professional, and I have my contacts.”

“Care to share how you were tipped off?”

“I don’t think so.” She tilted her head.

“Okay, what network or newspaper? I’ve done my homework, and no one owns up to bringing you onboard.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“What about giving me your number so we can catch up?”

“We just did.”

“Kariss, there’s a ton of history between us.”

“Leave it there.”

Tigo touched the small of her back and kept her moving toward the hospital’s entrance. She had history with the Mike guy? Once outside, her body relaxed under his touch, and he removed his hand. She might not feel at ease if she considered the fact that the man she’d recognized could be waiting for them somewhere in the parking lot.

“Tell me the shooting on the surgical floor didn’t happen,” she said. “I want to be assured I’m in the middle of a nightmare.”

“Can’t do it. Did you take good notes?”

“That’s not funny.”

He pointed toward his truck. “I agree. Let’s hurry along in case the shooter stayed behind for target practice.”

“You mean us, don’t you?”

“Exactly.”

She quickened her steps. “How is Jo-Jack doing?”

“He’d just been moved to recovery when you texted me. Confirmed the Arroyos had worked him over and sunk a knife into his stomach. Left him for dead. We couldn’t get any more information.”

“Tigo, I’ve never seen a real dead body before. Not like what’s back there.”

“I hope it’s your last.” But it wouldn’t be his last. When the Arroyos lined up their victims like pinballs, he didn’t want to end up in their scopes. Neither did he want Kariss alongside him.

“I hope Mike doesn’t mention me in his column. At least he thinks I’m a reporter.”

“I think you’re safe there. Do you feel up to describing the shooter for us? We’ll also see if the security camera’s footage caught the two men’s faces.”

“To see if they’re in the system?”

“Yes, Kariss.” She’d been listening and watching far too many crime shows. “Putting a name with a face and getting out a warrant is smarter than waiting for him to come after you.”

“You’re rather blunt.”

“I have to be. Anything else would have gotten me and other good people killed a long time ago. I’m sorry to have brought you here today. Not one of my best decisions.”

“Tigo, am I the only witness?”

“Looks like it. Another one may turn up later.”

“How did the two men get past the hospital’s metal detectors?”

“Good question.”

“This is more dangerous than I thought.”

“You’ve entered real life. Not a crime file or a website.”