Follow the Evidence (A Mac Everett Mystery Book 2) (22 page)

“Sergeant Hitchcock, he went to
find Superintendant Todd. They’re going to transfer some prisoner.”

“Buzz me in, will ya?” I said.

“Here, who are you?”

I showed him my ID again. The
sergeant pressed a button under the counter. The electric striker buzzed and I
pulled the door open. My thoughts and movements seemed to go into slow motion.
It was like swimming in thick murky water. I knew I was moving but couldn’t
see.
Sergeant Hitchcock, Superintendent Todd-Madison- what had she said?
Then it came to me.
Sergeant Hitchcock is Ian’s man.
I moved
deliberately through the unfamiliar halls looking for Madison or her aide.
Outside, Sergeant Hitchcock had tried to hide his face from me. Something was
wrong.

Major Core emerged from an office
with a sheaf of papers in his hand.

“Ah, it’s our intelligence expert,
well done, sir. We’re about to…”

I took the man by the arm. “Where’s
the Superintendant?”

“She’s gone to bring up the
prisoner,” Core replied. “She insisted doing it herself. She’s a bit of all
right. Quite something that one, isn’t she? Sergeant Hitchcock’s just gone
down.”

“Get some men down there,” I said
as I pushed passed him.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Core demanded.

“Trouble,” I shouted over my
shoulder. “Get some help.”

I didn’t wait to explain. I bolted
down the hall and hoped the major would be on my heels. I didn’t hold back as I
raced to the end of the hall, through the door, and down two flights of steps
to the subbasement. I bounded down the stairs two at a time. I was about a
third of the way to the bottom of the second flight of stairs when I heard
Madison shout. It wasn’t a shriek or a scream but a calm roar. She was giving
commands. As I neared the basement door, I heard her clearly.

“Freddie-put down the gun! Do it
now!”

I burst into the long dim basement
hall to a horrific scene I knew was about to get worse.

Ian, handcuffed behind his back,
was on Madison’s right. She was holding him by his left arm. Hitchcock had his
automatic zeroed in on them from about twenty feet away. He was between us with
his back to me.
It might be possible. He’s focused on Madison and Ian.
He
wasn’t far but I was unarmed.

“Step away from him, mum,” he
ordered.

Madison shook her head and said,
“He’s a prisoner Freddie. You can’t…”

I didn’t wait for her to finish,
but I was too late. I’d taken half a dozen strides toward Hitchcock when he
opened fire. The shots reverberated in the stone hall as it filled with an
acrid bluish haze. Ian dropped to his face, dead before he hit the floor.

I sprinted toward the armed man. My
pounding footfalls were lost in the reverberating hallway.
If I can just
make it before…
Madison leapt toward Hitchcock and he fired twice more. She
cried out, fell forward, and slid headfirst along the floor.

In that same instant, I was on him
from behind. I grabbed his gun hand in both of mine taking control of the
weapon. I used my height and weight advantage and spun in toward his body while
at the same time pulling the gun away from him. He was strong but I had
leverage. The gun twisted free. I heard a new sound, but stayed focused on
survival. He reacted quickly, giving me couple jabs to the ribs. The blows
stole my breath in a cloud of pain.

Holding Hitchcock’s Glock like a
club in my right hand, I smashed at his face, once, twice, three times. I heard
the sickening crack of bone and felt his warm blood splash my face. He screamed
and pushed me away clutching his face. I snapped my right foot out and caught
him in knee as we both fell backward. The knee gave way with a pop and he
screamed again. I landed hard a few feet in front of Madison. I sat gaping at
her. Her right arm lay in front of her, beckoning me as she had last night. I
watched her eyes, hoping to see some spark of life, but the warmth, hunger, and
longing were gone. Those beautiful eyes were empty, her pupils fixed and
dilated.

A sound clawed for my attention and
I looked to my right. Hitchcock, his face covered in blood, was fumbling with
his pant leg only a few feet from me. Suddenly, he drew a compact semi auto
from an ankle holster. Before I could bring the gun in my hand to bear, I heard
shouts. We both looked toward the sound.

“Drop the weapon sergeant! Do it
now, drop the weapon!” Major Core shouted.

It was Major Core with Hawes behind
him. Hitchcock turned toward the major while raising his weapon.

“Don’t do it sergeant,” Core
shouted.

Hitchcock kept turning, the weapon
rising. Two shots slammed into him and he fell sideways, a shocked look on his
face and two holes in his chest. He gasped once then expired.

I looked at the gun in my hand in
disbelief and then realized I hadn’t fired.

“Are you all right, sir?”
Lieutenant Hawes shouted as he rushed toward me. “We saw it all. we…I couldn’t
stop it,” he stuttered. “He nearly...he was reaching for another gun.”

I looked Lieutenant Hawes in eyes
and knew this young guy would take this hard.

Major Core was suddenly beside him.
“Damn shame,” he said. “You all right, Everett?

I nodded wearily.

“Go get some help down here,” Core
said to Hawes.

“Is she dead?” he said, froze in
place watching the expanding blood pool around Madison.

“Yeah, she’s dead,” I replied.

Hawes didn’t move.

Core shook him by the shoulder and
said, “Get going.”

The young cop took off running. The
older man turned and walked back down the hall. He disappeared up the steps,
his gun still in his hand. He left me sitting alone on the cold floor with
three lifeless corpses. I crawled closer to Madison, and took her hand. It was
still warm but wouldn’t be for long.

If uncovering corruption in the
Royal Bahamian Police Force had caused a ripple, getting three of their people
killed was like a cataclysmic volcanic eruption.

Madison had been right. Major Core
was a good interrogator. He questioned me for hours. Finally, the he asked for
a taped statement. I gave it to him. An hour later, I read it over, signed the
transcript, and three hours after that I was on Monday morning’s first flight
bound for Orlando. They’d gladly send me my bag, they said. Adair couldn’t get
me out of the country fast enough. Not that I could blame him, they hadn’t had
an in the line of duty death in ten years. They lost three people in that
basement corridor, though only one of them was worth grieving over. I was sorry
when the press played it up as a domestic dispute between former spouses but
what else could they do.

I hustled through the Orlando
Airport international arrivals concourse to the Customs and Immigration area. A
customs officer, who was already bored at eight-forty five in the morning, took
a cursory look at my passport, my bruised face, and my two-day stubble. He
passed me through without a single question despite my not having any luggage.
As I hurried through the long-term garage, the weight of everything that had
happened seemed to settle on me.

When I found my car, I dropped into
the Camaro’s seat. I tapped my head on the steering wheel a couple times trying
to clear the exhaustion and regret. I hadn’t been able to save Madison, but Lia
was still out there. Lord knows what’s happened to Jennifer Summers. I was due
to catch a break. I looked at my watch. It was nearly nine on Monday morning. I
cranked up the Camaro and pointed it toward home. Once I was on the road, I
dialed Stan.

“You’re up early,” he said. “When
are you heading back?”

“I just cleared customs.”

“When did you get in? You should
have called me. Let’s meet somewhere for breakfast. That diner down in Pine
Castle is close to the airport. It’ll take me thirty minutes to get there.”

Right now I didn’t want Stan
anywhere near what I needed to do. People close to me have a tendency to get
dead.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he
said. “The sheriff’s excited about the Intel you dug up. We need to…”

“I want to go home and get cleaned
up,” I said. “I haven’t had a shower in a couple days. I’ll call you later.”

I could hear the fatigue in my own
voice. I hoped Stan wouldn’t pick up on it.

“You’re working without a net on
this one ol’ buddy,” he said. “You’re gunna wish you had my help.”

“I already do, but I have to do it
my way. What do you have on Summers?”

“Did you know he’s not a U. S.
citizen?” Stan asked.

“I didn’t check his passport when
he hired me,” I said. “All I care about is if his check clears. Where the hell
is he from?”

“Have you heard of Uzbekistan?”

I had to think for a minute to
place it.

“Its north of Iran isn’t it?”

“Yep, it became independent after
the breakup of the Soviet Union. Parker Summers is from the capital, Tashkent.
He studied at Yale, speaks five languages, and was raised Russian Orthodox.”

“What has this got to do with…?”

I didn't have time to play twenty
questions the clock was ticking.

“Uzbekistan is on the State Department
watch list for Human Rights violations, human trafficking. Are you interested
now?”

“Yeah, I am,” I said.

What’s an Uzbek, married to a
Columbian doing in Orlando?

“I hope you didn’t deposit that
check from the guy. Parker Summers is in hock up to his eyebrows. He’s into
some shady stuff too, just what, isn’t clear. The criminal history check came
back clear but with flags from a handful of countries wanting updated
information on him.”

“Apparently he’s very popular in
Columbia right now,” I said. “Everybody wants him.”

“Where did you get that?”

“I have my sources too,” I said.
“Ian Todd said they have someone running the show here, but he didn’t know a
name. We have to find out who that is, if we’re going to get Lia back.”

“Any ideas?” Stan asked.

“My money’s on Parker Summers.”

“Summers…his daughter is missing.
Why would he involve his daughter?” Stan asked.

“If he owes a lot of money, maybe
he didn’t have a choice. In some countries, mothers sell their children for a
pittance. What do you think sex traders would pay for a well built twenty-two
year old American coed?”

“You think Summers sold his
daughter?” Stan said.

“He could have or she could be a
hostage to guarantee his cooperation.”

“He’d do that?”

“I don’t know,” I exclaimed. “I
only talked to him once. His wife was sure pissed with him. I’ll ask him next
time I see him. ‘Hey Parker-did you sell your daughter? I hear it’s a great way
to raise cash.’ Hell I don’t know.”

“I’m just asking…”

“Todd said Sergio sometimes took a
liking to certain women. I just don’t know if that’s what happened to Jennifer
or if that’s how Lia got caught up in this.” I said.

“We just have to keep looking,”
Stan replied.

“Did you find anything on the
property search?”

“He’s got a new house on Lake
Tibet-private road, security gate, and very private.”

“I didn’t know there were any
houses on that lake.”

“There weren’t. His is the first
and only,” Stan said. “The strange thing is he paid the taxes on the property
but it’s in some the name of some cooperation.”

“Maybe it’s a tax dodge,” I said.
“I thought you said he was in debt?”

“Building a big new house is a good
way to get in over your head,” Stan replied.

“I’ll check it out. Any chance of
getting some surveillance on him?” I asked.

“For what, being rich or in debt?”

I hated it when Stan was right.
There was no reason for the cops to watch Summers but that wouldn’t stop me.

I said. “Have you found any
property holdings for Diego or Sergio Sebastian?”

“Not yet, I’m still checking.
What’s this big plan you have to bust things open?”

“It might be better if you let me
play my own hand.”

“What’s got into you, Mac? You’re
acting stranger than usual,” he said.

I guessed he’d find out sooner or
later so I decided to tell him.

“The suspect I was interviewing-Ian
Todd and the cop I was working with in the Bahamas were both killed last
night.”

“Whoa!”

“Whoever is behind this could be
cleaning up loose ends. You know what that means?” I said.

Stan was quiet for a moment then
said, “We have to find Lia fast.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

I drove the rest of the way home
like a zombie. If I hit anything, the cops would just have to track me down. I
slipped into my parking spot and then in the back door of the Drunk Monk hoping
Ben Tracy had some eggs and sausage.

“Mac, where you been?” Ben asked.
“Whoa-you like shit if you don’t mind my sayin’. What happened to you?”

“Too much sun,” I replied as we
shook hands. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you sometime over a hot burger and a
cold beer. For now, can I get a couple scrambled eggs?”

“Sure,” he replied, “want some ham
and toast with them eggs?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much
trouble-that would be great.”

“Sit down. Have some coffee while I
get them eggs going.” He went to the walk-in freezer, came back a moment later,
and tossed me a plastic bag.

“Here, put this on that eye,” he
said handing me a bag of frozen peas and carrots. “I’m no vegetarian, but a
meat bandage is just a waste of a good steak, besides, I don’t mind throwing
out vegetables.”

The cold plastic bag conformed to
my face and felt real good.

“You offered to be my confessor
once,” Ben continued. “Two can play that game you know. You want to get
something off your chest. You
need
to get something off your chest?”

I leaned heavily on the stainless
steel prep counter with one hand and held the frozen veggies to my eye. “How
long have you got? I asked.