Ivy's Twisted Vine Redux

Ivy’s Twisted Vine

Author’s Note

This is a work of fiction. All events and characters in this story are solely the product of the author’s imagination; any similarities between any characters and situations presented in this book to any individuals living or dead or actual places and situations are purely coincidental.

Prologue

South Memphis

Late September

9:15 p.m.

The midnight air rushed fiercely in Lt. Nicola Agosto’s face as he opened the unmarked squad car and hit the ground running half-stunned by the extreme intensity of the weather. Sprinting through the snowy slush, he tried to ignore his aching knees and brain-wrenching migraine.

Under no circumstances could he let this perp get away. He was the only lead they had in the Caesar Dominguez case.

Pushing past the pressure on his lungs, he gasped for a second wind. Plunging through large puddles of water and trying to avoid shards of broken glass that lined his path down the dark alleyway, he felt for his gun as he watched for any possible threat of an ambush.

Even at nearly thirty, Nicola was still quite agile. There was no cop on Truitt Street faster and no perp anywhere in Memphis smarter than he was,
or at least he liked to think s
o.

Stretching his legs out a little longer to close the gap between he and his prey, Nicola’s stride became more powerful as he went searing through the gusty wind. He smiled inwardly feeling invincible as he caught a glimpse of his shadow under the streetlights. He hoped that he would walk away victorious from the chase and go safely home to a cold empty bed and a strong lonely drink.

Hearing his partner Brooks somewhere behind him, Nicola jumped an old wooden fence and felt a sharp splinter rip into his skin.
Ahh!
Almost invincible.

Landing in a puddle of muddy half-frozen water, Nicola saw the young drug dealer run into a vacant house. Wiping the grit from his eyes and posting up, he ran to the side of the door and looked in quickly. Nothing.
Damn it.

Seeing Brooks follow over the fence, Nicola signaled into the house. Taking a deep breath, he burst through the door with his gun pointed, ready to fire. His adrenaline was pumping and his gear irritated him. Tugging at the top of his bulletproof vest with his index finger, he prepared to clear all of the downstairs rooms.

The perp-catching process,
as he had termed it
, was executed with total precision and extreme prejudice. After all, he had been chasing offenders for nearly a decade. It was simple enough to him. Don’t move to fast, because the runner would always lead you to where he was headed. Don’t move to slow, because you might lose him. And don’t move without your partner, because it was nothing like being caught in the jungle alone. It used to make him livid, but he didn’t even get angry anymore. He understood the game now.

The old house reeked of odors left by homeless crackheads that had used it for shelter. Cockroaches climbed the walls and hoards of rats hid in the corners peeping out past the shadows. Cold winds ripped through the dark, empty hallways and rattled the old hanging portraits.

Slowly, Nicola peered in every entry under nasty discolored dusty furniture and listened past the creaking sounds of wind and rain for a clue of where the young man was hiding. Finally as he focused in, he could hear movement upstairs.

Junkies and dealers alike were so stupid. Why would you go upstairs in a rickety old house? Anyone downstairs would be able to track you,
he thought to himself as he put his infrared on the ceiling.

He could end it all right now. All he had to do was shoot above him. He was almost certain that he wouldn’t miss. But the point was to extract useful Intel, not to use the boy as target practice.

“Why don’t you just come out, and let me take you downtown? At least you’ll get out of here alive. If I don’t kill you, the rats will,” Nicola said, as he and Brooks took their positions at the base of the staircase leading up to the second level of the house.

“I ain’t goin’ back to juvy,” the young man screamed in a cracking adolescent voice.

“You know, there are a lot worse things than juvy?” Nicola said, slipping on his night vision goggles.

“Like what?” the teenager asked sardonically.

“Great, a kid,” Brooks said, shaking his head. They hated chasing teens.

“The night just keeps getting better and better.” Nicola tugged at his vest again.

Nicola instantly thought back to his last teenage chase. It went from a car chase to a foot pursuit. They ended up cornering the base heads in an alleyway. The teens were trapped, too scared to jump the fence, where three bulldogs salivated and barked wildly at the prospect of fresh meat. When he snatched up what he thought was two boys, he discovered that he had two fifteen-year-old parochial school girls that had been in the
hood
scrounging for crack cocaine.

“Stall him,” Brooks said, bringing Nicola back to the task at hand.

“Look, if you don’t come down, then we’ll have to come up after you,” Nicola taunted as he watched his partner pull the tear gas from his vest.

“Come on then!” the scared young man screamed again, this time sending several shots down the stairs to greet the cold and frustrated pair. “I ain’t never scared,” the boy screamed, holding his gun closely to him.

“Obviously,” Nicola retorted under his breath.

“Don’t worry, we’ll snatch a knot in his ass…after we catch our breath.” Brooks said, as he leaned against the wall. “Man, I’m tired.”

“You’re tired? I left you with the squad car. I’m the one out here running like a guard dog after this kid. I swear I don’t feel like doing this tonight.”

“You know what…I ran last night. So I don’t feel sorry for you.” Brooks snapped.

“You ran, but did we catch him?”

“That was your fault,” Brooks said, remembering the task at hand. “Are we going to do this, or are we going to sit down here while the little prick shoots rounds at us?”

“Alright, Alright.” Nicola got in position. “On the count of three.”

“We’ve wasted enough time already…three,” Brooks said, launching the tear gas up the stairs.

“Where did you get tear gas?” He took off his goggles. It was obvious he needed a gas mask instead,
which he didn’t have
.

“I got it from a friend.”

“What are you doing just walking around with tear gas, man? Sometimes you don’t make any sense.” Nicola never would understand his best friend.

“Well, neither does going upstairs after him not knowing what type of fire power he has,” Brooks said, looking up the stairs. “He’s already tried to shoot your ass off once tonight. Isn’t that good enough?” He looked over at Nicola, who rolled his eyes.

Anxiously, they waited downstairs in position for the perp to come barreling down choking and blinded. Finally, Nicola leaned against the stairwell completely out of tactical position.

“I don’t think that he’s coming down,” Nicola said condescendingly.

“
Just
…wait a minute,” Brooks scoffed.

Soon after, they heard glass break and foot steps out front on the ledge of the house. Running to the front door, Nicola saw a tall, slender figure land on the ground feet first.

“Go, go, go,” Brooks yelled.

“Meet me with the car,” Nicola said, making his way out of the house.

“Three minutes,” Brooks shouted, tapping the face of his watch.

Busting through the door, Nicola screamed half-dazed, “Freeze!” He had a good shot, but he decided against taking it. There was no visible threat, and he had a thing against killing kids, regardless of how stupid they were.

Ignoring Nicola’s plea, the young man decided against trying to retrieve the gun that had fallen out of his pocket in his desperate jump and ran through a bush in the yard next door into the street. Stopping to pick up the discarded weapon, Nicola again ran after him, ready for the chase to end.

Running down another garbage-filled alley, through a small apartment complex, and back out on to Wellington, Nicola could finally feel the fatigue of the weary hunt overcoming him.

Refusing to give up, Nicola ran full speed several blocks into the busy Crump and Danny Thomas intersection past the MAPCO gas station, where several fellow officers were too busy flirting with the cashiers to notice him. Fighting fatigue, the young man looked over his own shoulder to see Nicola closing in with every step.

One pace, two paces, three paces and then a launch.

In mid-air, Nicola opened his arms, dove and landed on the perp in the middle of the street causing both of them to barely miss on coming cars.

Hitting the ground, Nicola felt his arm make contact with the cold concrete and his skin rip off in the friction.
Another gash that would leave another scar from another chase
, he thought immediately as he grunted in frustration. Pulling the boy up, he kicked him in the stomach. Hard. That was for shooting at him.

“Get up,” Nicola ordered, pulling the boy by his torn collar. “And don’t clown with me, or I’ll take you back to that house and finish what
you
started.”

Of course, Nicola was bluffing, but he liked seeing fear on their faces. It paralyzed them from making more dumb decisions.

Seeing his partner and squad car turn the corner, Nicola slapped the cuffs on the young man, took a deep breath and looked at his watch. Two minutes and fifteen seconds. Like he said before…invincible.

Downtown Memphis

Wendell’s Restaurant

Late September

9:30 p.m.

Sitting across the table from her boss, Ivy looked at the contract and smiled. Inhaling deeply, she signed her name, gracefully stroking the paper with her pen and savoring the sight of the binding agreement. Sliding the paper back across the table, she took the crystal glass of full-bodied wine.

“You won’t be sorry, Ivy,” her boss, Joseph Steinberger, said putting the contract away. “Yveson and Letehwich is the best marketing firm in the southeastern region. I believe you know that our track record speaks for itself. Your talents will be best put to use here.”

“I’m sure,” Ivy agreed.

Joseph always appreciated Ivy’s humbleness, which is why their working relationship had turned into a professional friendship.

“Since you’ve been with us, we’ve come to build an entirely new program for our African-American collegiate market,” he explained. “You’ve built long-lasting relationships with nearly twenty different organizations and have designed a five-year plan for our Clivestone project. You’re definitely a keeper.”

“My main concern is that I’ll get out of the loop leaving until graduation. I mean, most of my contacts work with me, because I’ve maintained a very close relationship with them on an ongoing basis.”

“Well, that was our concern as well, which is why we have hired an intern to work for you. She’ll be in charge of attending the meetings and reporting back to you on a bi-weekly basis.” Joseph passed Ivy the new intern’s resume.

Ivy’s mouth instantly dropped. An intern with an intern? Who would believe her?

“This is unbelievable,” Ivy gasped.

“Well, you’ve earned it, and we recognize you need to finish these last months at school before returning back to the firm. We actually pride ourselves on the fact that in the last three years, we have only recruited magna and summa cum laude scholars, and we expect the same caliber of academic excellence from you. We hope that you will use this time to seal your previous endeavors, and come out in the spring ready to begin a new life with Yveson and Letehwich.”

“Oh, I will, and for the record, I’m extremely honored.”

And honored Ivy was. It was nearly unheard of for a firm to offer so much for an undergraduate. Yveson and Letehwich had offered her a great manager’s position as soon as they had heard that four other Memphis-based firms and three Nashville-based firms were interested. However, she made her final decision according to the bottom-line. Loyalty started with self.