Vengeful Bounty (7 page)

7

Mrs. Newton and I left the police station, me with a relief that can best be described as the feeling of having taken out a bag of rank garbage. The street lamps in the nearly empty parking lot shone brightly as we walked away from the sturdy white building that now housed Jared Doyle. He'd gotten blood on the seat of my Honda, but I'd deal with that later. It was too late in the evening to think about cleaning. The night air was warm, still. When I looked up to the sky through the glare of city lights, it was an array of pinprick light patterns against a velvety dark violet backdrop.

We got in my car, and I started to drive her home, when she asked, “You hungry?”

“A little,” I said, turning to her for a moment as I pulled away from the police station. “Why?”

“You look famished.” She furrowed her brow as if talking about a grave matter. “We'd better get some food in you.”

“Oh, no, Mrs. Newton. I need to get you home so you can get some sleep. I'd hate to keep you out any longer—”

“I know of a good deli that's open 24 hours, if you're willing to try something a little different. It's kind of a hole in the wall called ‘Anna's.'”

Before I fought with her any longer, I stopped. Maybe she needed someone right now. She lived alone. She was divorced. She had no children. Sure, she was a tough, even mean, older woman, but even the people with the thickest skin need someone to talk to sometimes. Perhaps tonight was her night. And what would I be doing if I went home? Lying in bed, trying to sleep, and doing a lousy job due to the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Oh, why not?

I smiled and glanced at her from the corner of my eye.

“Hole in the wall,” I said. “I like those kinds of places.”

“Well, you'll love this then.” She pointed. “Turn here.”

* * *

The tomato soup was wonderful, a nice mixture of tomato chunks, paste, and basil. I sipped, chewed, and savored each spoonful. Mrs. Newton had been right about this place. Great stuff. I drank a sip of my green iced tea and felt my nerves relax. Leaned back into the blue cushion of the brown wooden booth, I smiled.

We'd eaten in silence up until that point, contently enjoying the décor. The deli owner must've favored Georgia O'Keefe. Imitations of the artist's flower paintings decorated the wall in large murals.

Mrs. Newton poured enough sugar for three people into her coffee and added a little cream. I was about to thank her for buying our savory late-night snack and suggest we head back home, when she cleared her throat.

“Leigh's lucky,” she said.

That was an odd statement, considering the young woman had just undergone a horrible beating from an ex-boyfriend that had sexually abused her daughter. I turned my head slightly to the side, staring into Mrs. Newton's eyes.

“Why do you say that?”

“Sammy.”

“She is a very sweet little girl.”

What was she getting at? She had security cameras outside her house, for heaven's sake, because her students had vandalized her house a time or two back in her teaching days. She'd bragged earlier in the evening about being the most dreaded and hated teacher in the high school.

“I lied when I told you I didn't have any children,” she said. She took a drink of her coffee, the steam rising in warm rivulets around her face. “I gave birth to a daughter.”

I blinked, then shifted in my seat to let my chin rest in my palm. “What was her name?”

She looked over my shoulder to a massive painted flower. “Alyssa. She's still alive, as far as I know. I had her when I was 15. There was a couple I knew that had tried for years to have a child, but couldn't. I was young and had no business raising one. So I gave her to that couple, let them adopt her.”

I nodded. “Sounds like it was the right thing to do.”

“I'm not so sure, now.” She leaned back and crossed her arms over her black vest. “My ex-husband didn't want children. He'd even gotten himself fixed.” She pointed to her lap. “That's how serious he was about not wanting them. And I married him knowing that, but I was young, 20-something. It didn't occur to me that I might one day want to have them.” She drank more coffee, then cracked a side grin. “You might think I would've had enough of the sorry little suckers in my classroom, year after year. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment, because I got to the point where having a baby was all I really wanted. It's why Ray and I divorced. Well, one of the many reasons. He also couldn't keep his fly zipped when it came to younger, beautiful women. I guess there are multiple bonuses to having your balls out of commission.”

“Hence why you'd like me to go after him,” I said with a laugh.

“Honey, in all honesty, he's not worth your time.”

A waiter-bot hovered over to our table. It waited for a moment until it knew we were finished talking. The cylindrical disc with flashing yellow lights around the rim spoke in a small, echoing woman's voice:

“May I get you anything else?”

“How about some more coffee,” Mrs. Newton said. “And bring Mina one of those cinnamon crumb cookies.”

“Oh, you don't need to do that—”

“Honey, they're wonderful. You need one. You're too skinny as it is.”

I laughed and tried arguing with her. I was in pretty darn good shape, if I say so myself, but like most women, my weight had steadily crept up a tad over the last few years; I couldn't get into my college jeans now even if I used lubricant all over my hips to squeeze in them. Good ol' aging metabolism. But being a stocky, well-fed woman of 60, she thought I was full of it and demanded that I eat the damn cookie.

“All right,” I said, smiling at her determination. “If you insist. They do sound good.”

“More coffee and one cinnamon crumb cookie?” the waiter-bot asked after we had paused from our conversation for several seconds.

“That's correct,” Mrs. Newton said.

“Yes, ma'am. Be back in a moment.”

The deli was surprisingly full, considering the hour and the fact that it was very early on a Monday morning. The crowd was eclectic. At one table sat a group of college kids studying for an exam. At another was an old man with bushy white eyebrows. He read something on a hand-held electric device. The door bell chimed, and strolling inside to order were a middle-aged man and woman who had enjoyed a late night of drinking, forgotten their age, and were holding hands, their fingers intertwined.

“Does Alyssa know you're her real mother?” I asked Mrs. Doyle.

She sighed. “Honey, I just gave birth to her. Her real mother is the one that raised her. And I'm okay with that. That's the way it should be. I didn't want to complicate things with my presence. Her parents told her she was adopted, but she's never tried to find me. I've often rehearsed what I'd say if she showed up on my doorstep. But if it really happened, I think I'd be too stunned for words.”

“I can imagine.”

“You know, half the women that give birth to babies don't raise them. They just serve their sons and daughters as examples of what not to be.”

I couldn't help but think of my own mother. But I wouldn't talk about her tonight. Tonight was about Mrs. Doyle.

“But the same goes for men,” she said. “Plenty of people in general are too selfish to know real value when it's staring them in the face, even when it's an extension of their own blood. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to send my students' parents to boot camp and whip them into shape. Too many times, I'd ask a student why she flunked my test, and she'd say she hadn't studied because she had to work because her dad left and her mom was using all the money on herself and there were brothers and sisters to feed. It's a disaster. You know, kids need to be kids. There's plenty of time for adulthood when you get there.”

The group of college students erupted into laughter and cheering. They had replaced their calculators and notebooks with playing cards. One of the students, an extroverted and good-looking young man in glasses, playfully punched the shoulder of his taller classmate to his right. The taller man shoved him back and began shuffling the cards.

The bot returned, and two thin metallic hands extended from its sides, one pouring Mrs. Newton more coffee, the other handing me my cookie on a little pink plate. I took a bite, and closed my eyes in joy.

Mrs. Newton cackled, her raspy voice adding to the joviality of the room. “Good, huh?”

“Very,” I said with my mouth full.

We visited long enough for her to finish that cup of coffee. She picked up the tab, despite my protests. On the way back to her home, we listened to the Beatles and sang a few songs together. It was hard to believe that I had made a catch that very evening. Usually after a night dealing with Fish, I went home and brooded and thought about who I was going to catch next. But this was nice.

When we got back to her house, she showed me a few pictures of her late parents on her entryway hallway walls. She had one sister and one brother, both of whom she pointed out in a variety of framed snapshots. There were a handful of nieces and nephews as well. She told a few stories about growing up, and I shared a couple about Colt and me. She seemed pleased that we were so close and encouraged us to stay that way.

I hadn't brought up men or romantic relationships, but out of the blue she told me not to be in a hurry to get married. She said life wasn't meant to be complicated, but that true happiness could be found in the smallest things: good coffee, cinnamon crumble cookies, and friends.

When I gave her a little hug and said goodnight, I had a peaceful feeling that she was right.

* * *

I sat in my car at the edge of town on a hill and watched the sunrise.

My eyes were heavy with sleep, but the coming light gave me a burst of energy, as the sun often does when it disperses the darkness and, seemingly, all the sorrow and horrors that might have come with it.

It was a new day.

I had 24 catches.

That was 24 Fish properly brought to justice, leaving one more for me to nab before I could be granted the coveted title of Global. Their faces would stay with me, as would some of the injuries I'd endured while on the hunt. I have a scar on my left side, right under my ribs, from a deep knife cut. I'd had my shoulder broken via a fall from a moving train. My right thigh had been bitten by a tiger (long story). But the wounds had healed, as had others that hadn't even left scars. Humans really are a resilient lot. Many people fear pain, but to me, it's all part of life.

The sun's fiery rays burst over the horizon, molten and filled with bright color.

I dialed Leigh's number. She was probably still as awake as I was. If she wasn't, I'd leave a message. On the third ring, she picked up, and her face filled my monitor.

“Mina,” she said with a tired but relieved smile.

“Just checking up on you,” I said.

“Don't tell me you're still awake.”

I couldn't resist a yawn. “Oh, I usually don't sleep well after one of my nights. Are you okay?”

She nodded, tears filling her eyes. She fought them and swallowed, looking down, still smiling.

“Do you need me to come over?” I asked quietly.

“No,” she said, meeting my eyes again over the transmission. “We're—we're fine. Sammy's asleep. It's just so—so nice knowing that he's not out there and that he can't hurt her again.”

“I know.”

“I really do appreciate all that you've done, more than you'll ever know.”

“We'll have to stay in touch. You'll have to give me updates on you and Sammy. Let me know how she does in school this year.”

“I will,” she said.

“You know,” I began, “Mrs. Newton may seem like she's anti-children, but she's not. I think if you and Sammy could visit her every once in a while, she has a lot of love to give.”

Leigh laughed. It was a tired but relaxed sound. “I don't know if Sammy will go for that. Mrs. Newton has griped at her for riding her tricycle too close to her flowers before.”

“Oh, I don't doubt she puts on a front, but she's a good lady. Trustworthy. I think you might benefit from getting to know her more.”

“Well, I do owe her for her help last night. I may send Sammy over with a pot of flowers.”

“Good,” I said. “She'd like that.”

“Okay.”

“All right,” I said, “I'm going to let you go and get a little sleep. You look like you need it.”

“You get in bed, too, if you can. You deserve to rest.”

“I will. Take care.”

“You, too,” she said. “Bye-bye.”

“Bye, Leigh.”

I ended the transmission.

One more mission closed.

But in the world of bounty hunting, there never was an end to my job. There were always criminals. Always darkness to balance out the light.

It was early, and Colt and his roommates were probably still fast asleep, but I needed to pick up Rogue and get some shut-eye.

And later today I needed to devote some serious time to figuring out who my biggest Fish to date would be.

Number 25. Would it be a man? Woman? Old? Young? Murderer? Burglar? Rapist?

Whoever it ended up being, it was going to be the one that would open the great door I'd been waiting for all my life.

The door from the great lake of America to the ocean of the rest of Earth.

8

It took me a minute to figure out that the shrieking, nearly naked man running toward me was A.J. I'm not sure if it was the Mohawk or the tribal tattoos that stretched down his chest and hips and legs like some thin battle armor that had fused to his skin.

“He's gone!” he shrieked, grabbing my hand for an instant to look at me with pitiful puppy-like eyes.

I chanced a glance down and saw that he was at least wearing a pair of white underwear. Then, without any explanation whatsoever, he rushed back into the house.

I had barely gotten out of my Honda and entered the chain-link fence of the front yard before he'd come dashing towards me. Now, he left me stopped in my tracks halfway to his home, standing in the yard too dumbfounded to move. Whatever was going on, I was too tired for it.

And as if things couldn't get worse, a young female voice said, “Did you see that, Dad?”

A middle-aged man and his pre-teen daughter stood on the sidewalk with their mouths agape. The man recovered his composure and quickly covered the girl's eyes with both hands.

“I'll get you for indecent exposure if you come out of that house again, you cretin!” the dad shouted.

“Don't worry,” I said, turning to him. “I won't let him.”

“Just who
is
that young man?”

“He's—well, he's a friend of my brother's. Sorry. I'll get everything under control.”

“Well, you'd better!”

I winced. If there was one thing I didn't like, it was being bossed around. And even more, I absolutely hated to be ordered to do something by a complete stranger who had an I-own-the-universe air about him. With my nerves frayed from no sleep, I sneered.

“Maybe I'll do it because
I
don't want to see him running around naked. Maybe it has nothing to do with what
you
want. Did you stop to think of that?”

The man puffed up, his face turning red, and his daughter snickered.

“What sort of neighborhood
is
this?”

I shook my head, which was starting to pound with a headache. “It's a regular neighborhood, and if you don't like it, you don't have to walk here.”

“We just
moved
here!” he said. “Two blocks down!”

“And I'm glad,” the girl muttered, her teeth sparkling with the metallic jewelry of braces. “I like this a lot better than a stupid country club.”

His voice turned into a sharp whisper. “Do you have to announce that to everyone? How many times do I have to tell you it's not my fault that I lost my job! If Emmons had just lied about the numbers like he was supposed to in the board meeting,”—the girl's eyes fogged over, as if she'd heard this spiel before—“we would've had enough time to fix the problem, and I wouldn't have—”

“Excuse me,” I said. “You might want to take this conversation somewhere else. I work quite closely with the law.” The man's face paled. “Just saying. Beautiful day. Enjoy your walk.”

“Well,” said the man, finding his courage once again. “I still think we should get an apology from—”

“Sorry,” A.J. said. He stuck only his head through the cracked doorway. “Really sorry.” He grinned at the pre-teen. “Hi.”

Then he disappeared into the house again. The sound of wooden floors creaking under the pressure of frantic running added to the sounds of birds' cheerily chirping.

“Come on, Maggie,” the man said, “before you see your father get violent with that punk.”

He took her hand and strode away. She, however, looked over her shoulder in a kind of googley-eyed trance. Aww, a crush. That poor man was going to have a fun time with her once she got into high school. And by fun, I mean a nervous breakdown. I was willing to bet money on it.

The two figures shrank as they walked farther and farther down the sunny sidewalk until they turned onto a different street. Angered and somewhat embarrassed to be associated with this house at this particular moment in time, I headed across the lawn.

“A.J.!” I shouted. “Who's gone?” Then a thought dawned on me. “It'd better not be Rogue!”

A pang of panic jolted my heart. My dog had run away once, and it had taken me hours to chase after him. Weenie dogs have stubby little legs, but those suckers can run like nobody's business. And they always think that chasing them is a game, which in turn makes them go from an already fast pace to sprinting like the lightning. It was a miracle he hadn't gotten run over, because we had run through traffic that day and had angered many a motorist.

“It's not Rogue,” said a serene figure, sitting on an antique rocking chair on the porch. “It's his hamster thing.”

“The synthetic gerbil?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

That was Bryan. He was the calmest, most sensible looking of the three amigos. His hair was a nice shade of brown, parted to the side. He wore a gray T-shirt, brown corduroys and small, round-rimmed glasses that complimented his face. His brown eyes scanned the yard as he took a sip of black coffee.

“Don't know where it went,” he said. “A.J.'s only been up for five minutes. He'll probably find it.”

I stepped onto the porch, daydreaming about a hot bath, soft blankets, and pillows.

“How are you, Bryan?” I asked. “Found any leads for a steady job?”

He was a recent graduate seeking an occupation as a linguist. He wasn't really keen on joining the military, and he wanted to stay local. At present, he hadn't found his perfect match, but did commissioned jobs here and there.

“M'okay,” he said. “No steady job yet. You look tired.”

“Oh, I am. I think I'm going to go in and get Rogue and head home. It's been a long night. Pulled an all-nighter.”

“Job?”

“Yeah. But it was a successful night. I caught number 24. One to go.”

He let out a low, impressed whistle. “Nice.”

“Thanks.” I smiled.

“Make yourself at home.”

“I will.”

I walked in the house and my brother looked up from searching in between the living room couch cushions. He didn't do early mornings. One of his eyes was still closed, the other only halfway open.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hey,” he said, the closed eye opening in a squint. “How'd it go?”

“I got him,” I said.

“A.J. lost his—lost his—” Colt yawned. “His thing. The what's-it.”

“The gerbil, I know. I'd stay and help you try to find it, but I have got to get some sleep.”

“'Kay.” Another yawn. “I think Rogue's upstairs.”

A.J. streaked across the living room with a flashlight and bolted into the kitchen. Shaking my head, I made my way upstairs and called for my dog. When he didn't answer, I opened all the doors to all the bedrooms and whistled. The spare bedroom's door at the end of the hallway was slightly ajar, and I pressed it open.

“Oh, crap,” I said.

I had found Rogue.

And the gerbil.

It was a dachshund's instinct to go after furry little animals. There had been times when Rogue
sensed
a squirrel outside of the window, and he'd nearly flown through the glass in pursuit.

Tufts of the synthetic gerbil's fur lay on the ground, patches of the faux animal's body showing metal and some wires. It was a miracle that Rogue hadn't gotten electrically shocked, and maybe he had, but that hadn't stopped him. He held the robotic rodent in between his front paws and licked the head.

“Give me that,” I said in a tone he'd grown to recognize was serious business.

I reached down, and he let me have it.

“A.J.,” I called down the stairs. “I found it.”

He came bounding up to meet me, and immediately his face fell into an expression of pure despair.

“What happened?” he cried, taking his creation and cradling it in his hands.

“I'm really sorry. Rogue had it. I just got paid from last night's catch, and I'll wire you the money to rebuild another one.”

He stood there for a painfully long time before saying, “No, that's okay.”

“Are you sure?” Great, now I was feeling tired
and
guilty. There was no telling what I'd end up promising. “Because I can go out and buy you some new materials and—”

“No, no, no.” He shook his head, not meeting my eyes. “It had a glitch in it anyway. I mean, I have the blueprint. I can make another one.” Then looking at me, he added, “You could go on a date with me, and that might make me feel a little better.”

There was a limit to what I would offer him; I don't care how tired I was.

“A.J.,” I said with a sigh and a smile. “Please put some clothes on.”

“Date?” he asked.

“How's that going to help your gerbil?”

“I don't know. It might help my feelings.”

“Hah. I doubt that. Give me a call if you'd like me to pay you back for the loss, okay? I have got to get in bed.”

“We could do that, too.”

“A.J.” I patted his cheek. “You are a mess.”

The simple contact of my hand seemed to brighten his spirits, and he said, “So?”

Rogue nudged my leg with his nose, and I bent down and scooped him up. A.J. fetched his leash, and I clipped it to his collar.

“You know, Mina—”

“A.J.?”

“What?”

“Clothes, please?”

“Oh!” He grinned. “Just going to the shower now!”

He slipped into the upstairs bathroom, softly clutching the ruined gerbil in his right hand. Carrying my naughty pet, I focused on taking each step down so I wouldn't fall asleep descending the stairs. Colt stood at the bottom, leaning on the wall. He was so out of it that the wall seemed the sole force keeping him from falling down. My brother's body didn't remember how to balance itself until at least 10 a.m. I was convinced it ran on solar power.

“Didja find it?” Colt asked.

At least both eyes were open now, albeit droopily.

“Rogue tried to eat it,” I said.

“Really?”

“I feel really bad about it. Tell A.J. to please let me know if he needs any money to replace it.”

“I will.” He nodded, scratching his side in that sleepy way men do. “See ya later, Sis.”

“Bye.”

I said my farewell to Bryan, who gave me a little salute. Then I headed home.

Rogue propped up to look out the window, his long body stretched, his coat shiny. People around us had begun to start their day, the night which had been so void of life giving way to the busy buzzing people of the day. I glanced at Rogue.

“You are
not
a good boy,” I said.

He wagged his tail, his tongue hanging out, and when he saw a squirrel racing up the limb of a nearby tree, I nearly had a wreck trying to peel him off the car window.

* * *

The room was a blur of lights and pulsing jungle beats. I danced with Roberto, his hands caressing my body. But I wanted it. I wanted him. I wore no clothes, freeing his access to all parts of my flesh.

He traced my curves with his snakelike tongue that sent erotic chills down my body. But I knew with each wet trail, there was a part of him that remained monstrous. A part that I should not ever underestimate. My pulse raced, fearing the sinister monster within.

The other dancers of the club did not seem to mind or notice my nakedness. They writhed and whirled until they faded into the air like wavy mirages, and the room transformed into an empty cell with green tile walls.

I couldn't move my body. My wrists and feet were bound by invisible shackles.

The light was dim and eerie, and I could barely make out the shape of Roberto as he crawled on top of me. His hands had stretched into black claws that pierced the sides of the dirty mattress I lay on. His eyes flashed red, his teeth glinting with sharp points.

Pleasure gave way to pain, searing pain all over my skin as his touch burned my flesh, and I tried to scream but couldn't find the air to breathe.

The more I tried, the more I heard a faint chiming in the back of my skull.

Chiming, and chiming, and chiming…

I woke from the nightmare, my chest heaving, my brow soaked with sweat.

The sheets were wrapped around my legs, cutting off my circulation. I kicked them off of me and put my hand over my heart, the pounding so fierce I felt I might faint.

But as the relief of reality settled in and I realized where I was, it dawned on me that the chiming I'd heard in the dream was actually my telephone ringing in the living room.

It continued to chime, and still trembling, I stumbled out of bed to answer it.