Avenging Alex (14 page)

Alex grabbed his arm. “You can't leave me here by myself.”

He loosened her grip. “I won't be gone long.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

He glanced over her shoulder toward her travel case. “You know that gun I'm not supposed to know you have? I don't wanna know where you got it from, but if anybody comes here and tries to get in, use it. Don't look at me like that. I'm no Barney Fife. You need to protect yourself; I get that. But you need to be careful with it.”

He kissed her and admonished her to lock the door behind him.

It was nine o'clock when John got back to Monrovia. The usually quiet neighborhood had returned to itself. Other than the occasional car passing through, the only noise on the street was the distant bark of a dog. There were still lights on at most of the houses, but Alex's stood ominously dark and still as if to warn of a crime that had taken place there, and maybe even one that was yet to come.

The groceries were untouched on the counter: warm milk, broken eggs. A pitcher of watered-down lemonade was on the kitchen table, a deck of playing cards, a broken lamp, crumpled area rugs, the strewn dirt from the potted plant. Definite signs of a struggle. As he picked up trash and wiped up spills he contemplated what he'd overlooked earlier that would redeem him. He found a discarded tract underneath one of the rugs and stared at it, hoping it would provide an answer. “Judgment Day,” he whispered. What was the link? If Jamilah and the baby were still alive he wondered for how long. After securing the house he headed back to Santa Monica.

 

 

“Who is it?”

“It's me. John.”

Alex hesitated before opening the door. After John dashed inside she locked it behind him. “Did you find anything that could help?”

“No.”

“Anything turn up on Ade?”

“Not yet.” John dragged into the room, peeled off his jacket, and flopped down in a chair next to the window, rubbing his eyes. “You should try to get some sleep.”

“I can't sleep.”

“Try.”

Alex pulled at the oversized T-shirt she was wearing, walked over, and knelt down in front of the beleaguered inspector. “This is what happens when I let my guard down. I let myself believe that we actually had a future together. The FBI agent and the fugitive. Sounds like one of those cheesy Lifetime movies, doesn't it? Just once I wanted it to be true.”

He looked at her with weary regret. She reached up, caressed his head and the stubble on his face. He closed his eyes, breathing in the fragrance of the vanilla bath oils on her skin. She climbed into his lap and kissed the prickly hairs of his neck until her lips found his. Feeling his body's reaction on her bare buttocks, she pulled her T-shirt off.

“Make love to me,” she whispered.

“Alex, we . . . Not like this.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. “Please.”

He took her face in his hands and ran his fingers through her hair. She rose up and led him over to the bed, and he kicked off his shoes, disrobed, and climbed in next to her. Kissing her wet, salty tears, he rolled over on top of her, gently resting the weight of his frame and entered her with measured intensity. He hissed and the contour of her body gradually surrendered to him with every metered stroke.

Alex gasped and cried, “Stop.”

“What's the matter? Am I hurting you?”

“No. I can't do this. Not now. It doesn't feel right.”

John sighed and pulled out.

“I'm sorry.”

“C'mere.” John lay on his side and pulled Alex into him. He kissed her softly on the lips. “You don't have anything to be sorry for. There's a lot going on. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do.”

“I just need you to hold me.”

“I can do that.”

John enveloped Alex into his arms and she snuggled close to his chest, breathing in his scent. Secured by his embrace she eventually drifted to sleep.

Alex awoke on the verge of hysterics the next morning when she saw that John wasn't there. She threw back the covers, jumped up, and ran to the window. She could see the parking lot but not his truck. Her cell phone rang and she leapt across the bed to answer it.

“Hello . . . Hello . . . Mama, is that you? John? Hello?”

The call ended. She looked to see what number registered; it listed
UNKNOWN
. Still she hit redial as if expecting it to go through. She spotted a note written on the hotel stationary next to the lamp and picked it up.

She grabbed her bag from the side of the bed and checked to make sure her gun was still in it. She then pulled out her undergarments, a pair of skinny jeans, and a sweater, and went into the bathroom. Several minutes later she returned to discover that while she was dressing the unknown caller had called again.

There was a light tapping at the door.

Alex reached for her gun. “John?”

“Yeah.”

She put her gun away and quickly unlocked the door. John pushed in, bearing coffee and a bag from a nearby deli. He'd also apparently gone home to clean up and change clothes.

“I got you something to eat.”

She forced a smile and took the coffee. “Thank you. But, I'm really not hungry.”

“Come on. When was the last time you ate?”

“Um, yesterday afternoon, I think.”

He sat down next to her on the bed and opened the bag. “Look, I got bagels and sausage and biscuits. I didn't know what you would have a taste for.”

“I don't want anything.”

“You gotta eat something.”

Her stomach agreed. She jumped when her cell phone rang again.
UNKNOWN.

“That's the third time this morning.”

John picked it up but didn't say anything right away. He listened, trying to hear background noises. A few seconds passed before he spoke. “Who is this?”

There was no answer.

 

 

The woman on the other end quickly pressed the end button on her cell phone. “
Carajo,
” she spat, tossing her long, straight hair.

“Did she answer?” the balding captor asked, entering the room carrying grocery bags.

The woman paced the floor of the sparsely furnished room. “Did you get rid of the van?”

“Of course I did. I know what I'm doin'. But, apparently he didn't think of everything. How long are we supposed to keep them here?”

“We keep them until we are told otherwise,” the woman countered.

“I don't like this. I didn't sign on to be some damn babysitter for two old people and a screamin' brat.”

The Latin beauty arched her brow, sauntered toward the man, and snatched one of the bags from him. “You are getting paid to do what you are told.” She examined the contents of the bag. “
Idiota. Le supusieron traer detrás un inhalador para la mujer. ¡Usted no puede hacer cualquier cosa a la derecha!
”

“Hey, speak English, Pilar. I don't know what the hell you're sayin'.”

The woman threw up her hands. “I said you are an idiot. You were supposed to bring back an asthma inhaler for the woman.”

“What was I gonna do, pull one out of my ass? You need a prescription for those things.”

“You need to call and make sure this gets taken care of.”

“I don't take orders from you,” the man huffed.

“You work for my father. You work for me.
¿Entiendes?
”

 

 

John swiped the card key to the door of his office and went in to find Harley Donovan there alone.

“Where the hell have you been?” Donovan demanded, hanging up the phone.

“I'll explain later,” John replied as he sat down to log in to his computer.

Donovan reached over him and placed his hands over his keyboard. “I think you'd better explain now, buddy. Toliver's been askin' about you every five minutes. He's pissed that you haven't checked in or answered his calls, but I've been coverin' for your ass. Hey, remember me? I'm your partner. Whatever you're doin' if it affects you it affects me too. If somethin' is goin' down with this case I need to know about it. You need to start thinkin' with your big head and not with your little one.”

John fell back in his chair. “What have you told him?”

“I told him that Lorraine is ridin' you about this separation and you're tryin' to work out custody issues with her. You know the little general is only goin' to buy that for so long.”

“You better not let him hear you calling him that.”

“No chance of that. He went downtown. So, you wanna tell me what's goin' on?”

“All right . . . Janette Sullivan and the baby were kidnapped yesterday.”

“You already told me that.”

“I think this Ade Obafemi is mixed up in this somehow.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because he's missing too. I went by his place last night and he wasn't there. I went back there this morning. His bed doesn't look like it's been slept in. Everything looked like it did when I went there yesterday. There wasn't any indication that he'd been there in the last twenty-four hours. No sightings of him at the bus station or the airport.”

“Where'd you stash the girl?”

John looked at his partner and then glanced around the office. “I can't tell you that.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Somehow somebody found out where we were keeping her and that wasn't by chance. There's a leak somewhere. Somebody is either working for or with Rivera and I'm not telling anybody anything until I get some answers.”

“You don't think it was me, do you?”

John pushed away from his desk and moved to the window.

“You're in this shit up to your eyeballs, John.” Donovan rubbed his hand over his facial stubble. “You need to tell me where she is so I can help you, buddy.”

“I can't do that.”

“John.”

“Look, Harley. Janette Sullivan and that baby could be dead because I screwed up. I'm not going to let that happen to Al . . . Adriane.”

“So, you're just gonna go solo on this? Toliver's not gonna like that shit at all. Your ass is seriously on the line here.”

“And if I tell you where she is yours will be too.”

“Thanks for the concern, but I can take care of myself.”

“Okay. You wanna do something? Help me track down the people who took Janette Sullivan. If we can find them they could lead us to Rivera.”

“Where do we start?”

“With Obafemi's daughter in Chicago or his son. They may have heard from him.”

“Okay, I'm on it. What are you gonna do?”

“I need to check into something. After that I'm going back over to Monrovia to canvass the neighborhood again. Somebody has to remember seeing something.”

Remembering what Alex asked him to do in regard to keeping his promise to contact Betty Ellis if anything happened to her, he logged in to his computer and searched out anything current he could find on Tirrell Ellis. The query turned up information regarding the 2008 shooting that left him paralyzed, and the details that allegedly tied him to Xavier Rivera. He also found the names of Betty Ellis listed as his grandmother and that of his brother Kevin, who was also shot. There was no other mention of Tirrell beyond the shooting, but he did discover that Kevin Ellis was now a district attorney. He deleted his search history before logging off the computer. Examining the envelope Alex entrusted him with, he pondered his next move.

 

 

Ade winced as he nursed the gash in his forehead. Jamilah refused to look at him as she cradled a sleeping Cerena in her arms.

“I do not blame you for hating me,” he said.

“I asked you not to speak to me,” Jamilah snapped. “You have deceived me in the worst possible way. I couldn't care less what you have to say now.”

“I didn't realize what was being thrust upon me. I thought you were who and what they told me you were. But, you weren't like they led me to believe at all.”

Jamilah sneered. “Who exactly did you think I was?”

“They told me that you and your daughter were criminals. Drug dealers. Fugitives. They showed me newspapers that claimed she was responsible for the deaths of many people. I didn't know there was a baby involved. All I was supposed to do was gain your trust and get close to you in exchange for the wellbeing of my family.”

“My daughter is no murderer and neither am I. But, I can't say the same for the people you did all this for. Xavier Rivera. He is the drug-dealing murderer who is after my daughter.”

Ade looked forlorn. “They gave me no choice. I didn't know what to do. I needed to protect my family.

“At the expense of my family.”

“I was put in an untenable position. I knew this kind of ruthlessness in Nigeria. I brought my family to this country to get away from that.”

“So, how did they come to find you, the Yellow Pages?”

“The girl, Pilar. She approached me a few months ago in the very market where we met. I can only assume now that she had already been watching you.”

“So, you have proven to be no better than the cruelty you chose to flee. You do realize that these people have no intention of keeping their word.” Jamilah held her chest and wheezed and coughed. “Whatever you were promised is all a lie. What would your Busola say if she could see the kind of man you are now? I hope it was worth it.”

“Janette—”

“Do not speak to me. Leave me alone.”

Jamilah looked around the cluttered room, trying to determine where they were being held. Taking care not to wake Cerena, she stood and walked over to a window that was secured by bars and bolted to a metal frame; wooden boards were nailed on the other side.

Ade went to the window and grunted as he yanked at them unsuccessfully.

Jamilah scoffed. “Where was this demonstration of manliness before you were trapped in this ‘untenable position'?”

Pilar unlocked the door and Gil stepped into the room carrying a tray of food and plopped it down on a table. “Eat up,” he sneered.

Jamilah glared at him. “I don't want anything from you people.”

“It is not our intention to do you any harm, but you need to eat,” Pilar injected. “There's a bottle for the baby.”

“I don't want anything from you people,” Jamilah snapped.

“It is not poison.” Pilar picked up a piece of toast and took a bite. “You see? If we wanted you dead you would be already.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Your daughter.”

Ade cagily watched the man guarding the door. He focused in on the gun in his hand as he moved toward the tray and picked up one of the steaming hot cups of coffee.

“You better not be thinkin' about doin' what I think you are, old man.”

Ade slowly raised the cup to his lips, blew, and took a sip.

Cerena stirred in Jamilah's arms and started fussing. “She needs changing.”

The man stepped outside the door to retrieve a bag and tossed it inside the room. A package of diapers and baby wipes fell out on the floor.

“You see, we are not barbarians.” Pilar's smile was drenched in deception. “I even have a prescription for your inhalers.”

“Oh, and how exactly did you manage that?”

“You would be surprised what you can accomplish in this country with the right connections. Or perhaps you wouldn't, after all, that is how you and your daughter were able to assume new identities and go into hiding, is it not?”

She turned and swiftly left the room. The man followed and locked the door behind them.

 

 

John reviewed his notes to see if there was anything or anyone on Huntington that he failed to question. When the mailman drove up he glanced at his watch and decided to act on a hunch. As the wiry man stepped outside his truck John flashed his badge. “Excuse me, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“What's this about?” the man asked.

“Do you work this neighborhood every day?”

“Not if it's my day off.”

“Were you here about this time yesterday?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I was.”

“Did you deliver mail to this house?”

“Yeah, why? Did something happen?”

“Have you ever seen the people who live here?”

“Yeah, uh, Miss Janette. She's a real nice lady and that daughter of hers . . . Man, I'm tellin' you what. Both of 'em look like they could give you a run for your money, you know what I mean?”

John cut through his mannish amusement. “Do you remember seeing anything out of the ordinary yesterday? A car that you didn't recognize? A truck or van? Anything at all?”

The man pulled his cap off and scratched his thinning hair. “Well, now let me see. I did see a van. It was dark, maybe blue . . . No, I believe it was black.”

John perked up. “What else? Can you remember anything distinctive about the van?”

“I remember that it was hanging out in the street enough for me to have to go around it to get to the mailbox. I really hate when that happens. You tell people all the time not to block their mailboxes, but do they listen?”

“Did you happen to catch the number on the license plate?”

“No, but then again I wasn't looking at it. The windows had a heavy tint to 'em, though. Did something happen to Miss Janette or her daughter?”