Authors: Rayven T. Hill
Fugitive Justice (18 page)
~*~
ANNIE TURNED OFF the television and sat back, surprised and disturbed at the announcement of Merrilla Overstone’s death. She’d hoped the woman would recover well enough to speak coherently, possibly for long enough to identify her real shooter.
Things were looking worse and worse for Jake.
And for her.
The last part of the story had contained video of the bank robbery, with the footage of the actual shooting removed. At least Lisa had kept her word and not mentioned Jake’s name. No doubt convinced of his innocence, she’d urged members of the public to contact her or the police if they recognized the suspect.
Matty had been asking about his father again, and Annie was finding it hard to skirt around the truth. And it looked like there was going to be at least one more night without Jake’s presence.
She sighed and went into the kitchen for her cell phone, then sat at the table nursing a cup of coffee and dialed Jake’s number.
“I’m on the streets,” Jake said. “I have a lead. I’m looking for a guy named Dewey Hicks. He might be behind this whole thing.” She listened with hope in her heart as he filled her in on the events of the afternoon. “He’s a night owl. I might have to wait until a little later to track him down.”
That was good news, and Annie hoped the information Jake would be sure to get would clear his name and bring him home to his family.
“I wonder if I should call Hank,” Annie said. “He might be able to get me something on Hicks.”
“I’m sure Hank’ll discover the guy has a record a mile long,” Jake said. “But right now, it’s only a name. It doesn’t prove anything. I’m pretty sure I can track him down without Hank’s help. Once I do, I’ll find out what’s going on. If I get something solid, I’ll let you know. Then you can talk to Hank.”
“I’ll put it off until tomorrow, but we have another problem,” Annie said. “Lisa just announced on the news that Merrilla Overstone died less than an hour ago.”
Jake took a sharp breath and remained quiet.
“That means you’re wanted for two murders now,” Annie said. “Two murders you didn’t commit.”
“And my best witness is dead. That sure throws a wrench into things.”
Annie told Jake about her afternoon excursion, and about the keys she’d discovered and what she had done with them. “I don’t like breaking the law,” she said. “But I had to do something.”
“I guess I’m breaking a few laws myself,” Jake said. “But it seems like it’s the only way to get anything done. We’re in this thing alone.”
“Speaking of being alone, where’re you going to sleep tonight?”
Jake chuckled. “I haven’t decided yet. The cops are bound to be all over this now that Merrilla’s dead, and I’ve no idea what Hank might do. I can’t go back to Sammy’s place.” He paused. “But don’t worry. I’ll find someplace nice and warm to curl up.”
“I hope the safety deposit box keys lead somewhere,” Annie said. “I’ll talk to Hank tomorrow and see if I can get something out of him without mentioning anything specific.”
“Knowing Hank, he’ll get around to mentioning the keys. He’s gonna know they’re from you.”
“Doesn’t matter. He won’t pursue it. He’s got enough to handle right now.”
“I’d better go,” Jake said. “My charge is getting low, and I don’t know where to charge it up again.”
“You still have money left?”
“Lots of money. At least a couple hundred. As long as I don’t have to pay too many people off, I’ll be okay.”
“Let me know if you find Hicks, and I’ll talk to you soon,” Annie said, then hung up the phone.
Finally, things were starting to happen, but she didn’t know how much longer either of them could hold out. Some of her regular clients had contacted her regarding research and background checks that couldn’t wait. She’d put off returning their calls; her heart wasn’t in it right now.
As long as she had nothing else pressing to do, she’d call them back first thing in the morning. A bit of mundane research might be what she needed to take her mind off her current predicament.
Until she came up with another idea, she’d have to leave their future up to Jake.
Wednesday, 8:44 p.m.
FOR THE THIRD TIME in the last two hours, Jake pulled open the pitted wooden door of Gully’s Bar and stepped into the smoke-filled room. The last time he’d wandered in and looked around, the bartender had given him a curious glance before turning back to serve a customer. The same bartender now paused his task of polishing the drab bar and turned his eyes toward Jake.
If the proprietor’s piercing look was any indication, perhaps the two punks weren’t the only ones who thought Jake was a cop. With two full days’ growth of beard on his face, and his short-cropped hair, he probably looked like a cop trying too hard not to look like a cop.
Jake went to the bar and climbed onto a stool, spinning it around to face the dimly lit room. The barroom was filling up with noisy customers. Half of the tables were occupied by groups of two or three. The rest of the patrons hung around pool tables or lounged on barstools to his right and left.
Dewey Hicks could very well be among them. The problem was, Jake had no way of knowing what the guy looked like.
The two hoods he’d questioned had said Hicks hung around here a lot. That meant he should be known by any other punks who happened to frequent this seedy establishment. And drinkers were arriving in droves. Jake decided that this time, he was gonna hang around as long as was necessary. But he’d have to buy a drink to keep the bartender from eyeing him.
“What can I get for you?”
Jake spun his stool to face the bartender. “Draft.”
The guy nodded and left without a word.
Jake peeled a ten-dollar bill from his dwindling stash, laid it on the bar, and waited for the bartender to return.
“Want change?”
Jake shook his head. “Keep the change. By the way, I’m looking for Dewey Hicks. You seen him around yet?”
The bartender frowned and folded the ten, dropping it into his shirt pocket. “Don’t know no Hicks.”
“You sure? I’m supposed to meet him here. Got a package for him from Mikey.”
The man’s frown deepened. “Don’t know no Mikey, either.”
Jake decided he probably did look like a cop.
He shrugged and took a small sip of beer. From the corner of his eye, he watched the bartender move away to look after another customer.
Sliding his beer over with him, Jake moved to the next stool. He kept his head down and his eyes up, training them on a grimy mirror that backed a long row of spirits behind the bar. Through the mirror, he had almost a full view of the entire room.
Customers came and went, and Jake waited.
A few minutes later, the bartender looked around, probably checking to see if anyone needed his immediate attention, then wiped his hands on his jeans and slipped out from behind the bar. He moved toward the back of the room and stopped beside a couple of guys who lounged at a small round table.
The bartender leaned over and his lips moved. The slimy-looking guy he was addressing glanced toward the bar and gave a slight nod. Then, tilting his chair back on two legs, the guy dropped a foot on a chair beside him and crossed his arms. Jake felt curious eyes on his back as he watched the punk through the mirror.
The bartender returned and served up some drinks to thirsty patrons, then leaned against a cabinet and yawned.
Pushing back his beer, Jake slipped off the barstool and stood. In his peripheral vision, he saw the guy he hoped was Hicks drop his foot to the floor and sit forward. His eyes followed as Jake ambled toward the door and pulled it open.
Jake stepped from the bar and headed across the street. He reached the sidewalk on the other side and turned his head, taking an indifferent glance toward the bar. The punk and two of his friends stood on the sidewalk, watching him. Jake stuffed his hands into his pockets and strolled casually up the street.
He hoped the punks were following him. A glance into the window of a storefront assured him they were.
Half a block later, Jake turned into an alley. He’d checked out the entire area earlier, and he knew the alley was a dead end, stopping a hundred feet ahead at a high wooden fence. He was betting the punks knew it, too. The only exit from the darkened lane was either through one of the doors on either side, or back the way he’d come.
Jake reached the end of the alley and made a pretense of trying to work his way over the fence, then appeared to give up and turn back.
The three punks were heading down the alley, one in front, the other two close behind.
They stopped. “I hear you’re looking for me,” the one in front said, crossing his arms.
Jake stopped five feet away. “You Hicks?”
“Who wants to know?”
Jake stepped closer and held out his hand. “Mikey sent me.”
Hicks looked curiously at the outstretched hand, then glared at Jake. “Who’s Mikey?”
Without warning, Jake’s hand shot up, and his fingers wrapped around Hicks’s throat and squeezed. His free hand was clenched into a fist and ready as the other two punks moved in. He caught the closest one full in the face, and the startled man went down onto his back, holding his bruised nose and howling in pain.
The other guy paused midstride, then turned and beat a path out of the alley faster than Jake had ever seen anyone run. The guy probably figured he’d sooner deal with a betrayed Hicks later rather than taking a chance against Jake’s massive fist and ending up like his partner.
Hicks cursed between gasping breaths, struggling with both hands to free himself from Jake’s grasp, but Jake held on.
The guy on the ground groaned again, then rolled to unsteady feet and stumbled away, his hands nursing his bruised and bleeding face.
“What … what d’you want?” Hicks managed to spit out between curse words and shallow breaths.
Jake turned around and dragged an angry Hicks with him, trapping the punk between himself and the fence.
Hicks backed up and thumped against the wooden barrier. He didn’t look so tough now, and he cowered in fear as Jake moved in and towered over him.
“I didn’t do nothin’ to you.”
Jake leaned in, his face inches from the trembling man. “You set me up.”
“I don’t even know who you are.”
Jake sighed. “You have a choice.”
Hicks looked confused. “What choice?”
“Which arm do you want me to break first?”
Hicks looked frantically towards the only path to escape, then looked up at Jake and remained quiet.
Jake grabbed Hicks by his right arm. “We’ll do this one first and leave the other one for later.”
“Wait. You don’t wanna do that.”
Jake shrugged and tightened his grip. “You’re right. I really don’t, but I guess I have to. It’ll make me feel bad for a while, but I’ll get over it.”
“I … I mean, you don’t hafta do that. What d’you wanna know?”
“I want to know about the bank robbery. Who robbed the Commerce Bank?”
“Wasn’t me.”
“I know it wasn’t you,” Jake said. “You’re just a measly little punk, and you’re gonna tell me who did.”
Hicks bit his lip and looked frantically around.
Jake twisted the arm, and Hicks howled. “All right. I’ll tell you.”
“Who robbed the bank?”
Hicks paused, looked at Jake’s bulging biceps, then said in a low voice, “It was Ace.”
“Ace who?”
“Don’t know. Just Ace.”
“Where can I find this Ace character?”
Hicks shook his head. “I don’t see him around much. Haven’t seen him since yesterday morning. He lives north, near the bank. That’s all I know.”
“What’s he look like?”
“He looks a bit like you. Big. Muscles all over the place.”
Jake dropped Hicks’s arm and moved back a step. “Tell me about Merrilla Overstone.”
Hicks looked genuinely confused. “Don’t know nobody named Overstone.”
Jake leaned in and scowled. “The woman who was shot.”
Hicks’s expression didn’t change.
“You know me, don’t you?” Jake asked.
Hicks gave a weak nod.
“You set me up. You planted the money in my garage.”
The punk’s eyes told Jake he had.
“Ace paid you to plant the money?”
Another nod.
As long as Hicks wasn’t feeding him a line, it appeared Ace had been the one who had shot Merrilla Overstone, then had hired Hicks to help with the frame job.
Jake straightened up and crossed his arms. “You might see me around again. And if you do, you’d better know where I can find Ace.”
“I … I’ll see what I can do.”
“You don’t want your arms broken, am I right?”
Hicks nodded vigorously.
Jake stepped aside. “You can go now, but remember, I’m watching you.”
Hicks scurried past Jake and raced from the alley.
Jake watched him go, sure that Hicks would be having a nasty talk with his two friends before long. But they were all punks, and Jake still had to find one more punk—a guy named Ace.
DAY 4 - Thursday, 6:45 a.m.
NILES OVERSTONE awoke with a sudden start and sat up in bed. Though he was dead tired, he hadn’t been sleeping soundly the last two nights, and the faint sound of someone moving around had brought him out of his shallow sleep.
The morning sun was streaming through his window, lighting up his bedroom. At first he thought Merrilla was awake and getting dressed quietly like she always did, doing her best to let him sleep for another half hour.
Then the awful reality hit him again. Merrilla wasn’t coming home. The last few weeks they’d planned together had vanished. He lay back and closed his eyes, squeezing away fresh tears.
After the death of his wife, the police had unsealed his house and allowed him to return. At first he hadn’t wanted to, but he and his wife had talked about this at length a few weeks ago. Merrilla’s wishes had been that he stay in their house, and she’d persisted until he made her that promise. Her imminent death had been a tough subject to discuss, but once they’d both come to accept the inevitable, it was one of the things his wife had been determined about.