Yuletide Defender (7 page)

R
achel and Matt scrunched into the dark recesses of a deserted apartment building's doorway. A sign across the entrance stated that the building had been condemned and wasn't suitable for habitation. Boards covered the windows on either side of the door, just as Rachel had seen on many of the buildings a few nights earlier when she'd watched two murders take place. What would she see tonight?

Across the street, a light from inside Pepper's Bar lit the sidewalk in front and revealed a small room with tables and chairs scattered about. A string of multicolored Christmas lights, the only attempt at a holiday decoration evident in the neighborhood, cast a garish glow around the two sides and top of the entrance.

Rachel strained to see if anyone was in the bar but she could see no customers. A man she assumed to be the owner sat on a stool at the bar with his attention directed to a television on the wall. This was either a slow night for business or the regulars had been warned to stay away.

At the far end of the street, lights burned in the windows of two apartment buildings that looked like they'd fallen on hard times. The people who lived there were probably much like the mother Rachel had interviewed at the last gang murder—locked inside with the shades drawn until morning.

Rachel's legs ached from standing in one spot and she
shifted her weight. Matt leaned over and whispered, “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “What time is it?”

“Nearly eleven. We should see something soon.”

As if on command, a car pulled to the curb in front of the bar. Rachel held her breath and pushed back into the darkness. Matt's arm circled her shoulder. “Shhh,” he whispered. “We don't want them to see us.”

The pounding in her ears echoed through her body. She pressed her hand against her heart in an effort to slow the beating but it was useless. The memory of two lifeless bodies on the sidewalk flashed through her mind.

The car door on the driver's side opened and a tall man climbed out. His gaze swept the street as he buttoned his leather jacket. The back door opened and a second muscular man stepped to the curb. The two, who appeared to be in their late twenties, spoke a few words before they turned and walked into the bar.

A tingling raced up Rachel's spine and she trembled. Matt's arm tightened around her shoulders. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His forehead furrowed as he studied the scene across the street. In the dim light, she could see the outline of his jaw and the muscle that twitched in the side of his face. Was he feeling fear like her, or excitement at what they were witnessing?

“Do you know either of them?” Rachel whispered.

“The second one is Big T, the head of the Vipers.”

Rachel leaned closer. “They weren't what I expected. I thought most of them were teenagers.”

Matt shook his head. “The gangs are getting older. Some members are well into their thirties.”

Before Rachel could respond, a door slammed. A man exited the bar. It had to be the owner leaving, just like her source said. Pulling his jacket on, he hunched his shoulders against the cold and strode down the street without a backward
glance. Maybe he'd seen the gangs in action too many times to argue with them about taking over his business for a short time.

Silently, Matt and Rachel watched. Inside the bar, the two Vipers sat at a table near the window. From time to time, the first man they'd seen exit the car would walk to the door and peer outside.

After fifteen minutes, Matt leaned down and whispered, “Something must have gone wrong. You stay here. I'm going to get a closer look.”

Rachel clutched at his sleeve. “No, Matt. You need to stay hidden.”

He pulled away. “Don't worry. I'm just going to get the license plate number of the car. If I hear anybody coming, I'll duck into one of those buildings.”

Before she could voice another objection, Matt slipped from their hiding place. He flattened himself against the side of the building and eased down the street until he stood on the sidewalk directly across from the car.

Bending over, he ran across the pavement and ducked behind the car. Rachel couldn't tell if he was writing down the number. Maybe he was committing it to memory.

She cast a nervous glance up the street. He had to get away from there. The Rangers might arrive any minute and demand to know why he was snooping around.

“Come on, come on,” she whispered.

The door to the bar opened and the driver stepped out. Rachel clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming as he walked to the car. Matt, who still crouched by the back bumper, didn't move. The man opened the car door and pulled out a bag. Glancing around once more, he returned to the bar.

A ragged breath escaped her lips as Matt pushed into a slumped position and began to ease into the street. His eyes trained on the bar, he slowly retreated. Without warning, he
stopped and flattened himself against the pavement. Rachel strained to see what was happening.

A man turned the corner and headed down the street in front of the bar. Rachel's pulse raced. Was this one of the Rangers coming to join the meeting?

The man walked slowly, as if he was out for an evening stroll. He glanced at the bar but didn't enter. The light from inside illuminated a lunch box swinging from his hand. Rachel relaxed. He must be a worker returning home after getting off second shift.

Matt evidently had decided the same. He pushed up in the crouching position again and turned toward where Rachel waited. He'd only taken two steps when the stillness of the night exploded with a deafening roar.

Propelled by the giant fireball engulfing the bar, lethal shards of glass flew in all directions. Rachel dropped to her knees and covered her face as jagged slivers rained down.

When the sound of flying debris stopped, she opened her eyes and pushed to her feet. Fire leaped through the shattered windows and the door of the bar toward the sidewalk. The men inside couldn't have survived the impact and the flames. The car, now blackened from the blast, resembled a salvage yard rusty shell.

“Matt! Matt! Where are you?”

No answer.

She rushed from her hiding place toward the last spot where she'd seen him. Glass crunched under her shoes. She jerked to a stop and shook her head in denial.

“No,” she moaned.

Matt lay motionless in the street, the lunch box she'd seen in the man's hand beside him.

Rachel rushed toward Matt and dropped to her knees. He lay on his stomach, his legs spread-eagled and the right side of his face on the pavement. Above his left eye, blood gushed from a cut.

Pulling her cell phone from her purse, she punched the buttons.

“911. What's your emergency?”

“There's been an explosion at Pepper's Bar on Locust Street. There are people inside and there's an injured man in the street.” Her gaze locked on the lunch box next to Matt and she swallowed back the nausea rising in her throat. “I think another man who was walking by the bar when it exploded may be hurt, too.”

“Responders are on the way. Are you near the injured person?”

“Yes.” She knew she screamed the word but she couldn't control her voice.

“Can you describe his injuries?”

“He's unconscious. There's a cut on his head. And there's lots of…” She choked on the word.

“What?”

She swallowed. “Blood.”

“Is he breathing?”

Rachel leaned closer and placed her hand on his neck. “I can feel a pulse.”

“Good. Stay with him until help gets there. Are you hurt?”

Rachel touched her face but there were no cuts. She examined her arms and legs but saw nothing out of the ordinary. “No, I'm okay. I wasn't close to the explosion.”

“Then just stay calm. I'll stay on the line with you until someone arrives.”

In the distance sirens wailed. “I hear them. They should be here any minute.”

Flashing lights appeared down the street. Within moments fire engines, police cars and ambulances converged on the area. Rachel stood and waved at two paramedics as they jumped from their vehicle.

“Over here!”

She backed away as the men knelt over Matt.

“Are you still there?”

The voice reminded her she still held the phone to her ear. “They're here. Thank you for your help.”

“They'll take care of you. I hope everything turns out all right for the victims.”

Rachel closed the phone and stared down at the men giving aid to Matt. He still hadn't moved.

She pulled her attention to the firemen who were already training high-powered streams of water on the raging blaze. Giant flames licked at the roof and the surrounding buildings and cast a kaleidoscope of bright colors on the deserted storefronts.

The voice of one of the paramedics caught her attention. He leaned over Matt and spoke into his ear. “Can you hear me?”

With a groan, Matt moved his arms. “Wh-what happened?”

“You've been hurt. You need to lie still while we check you out.”

Matt flattened his hands against the pavement and tried to push up. “I'm okay.”

“Let's be sure before you move.” The two men gently restrained him.

Matt closed his eyes, then they flew open. “Rachel? Where's Rachel?”

She stepped closer. “I'm here, Matt. I'm not hurt. Now be still and let these men do their job.”

He gave a weak nod. “Glad you're okay.”

Two other paramedics rushed up with a gurney. The one who still knelt by Matt glanced up at Rachel. “We're going to put him in the ambulance and check him out.”

She followed as the men rolled Matt toward the vehicle, pushed the gurney into the back and climbed in after it.

“Get back! The roof's going!”

Rachel jumped at the warning yelled by one of the fire-fighters. The building looked like a folding house of cards as it slowly crumbled in a burning heap. She thought of the two men who'd arrived and sat near the front window waiting for a meeting and the man who'd walked by with his lunch box. Had they all died unaware they were counting down the minutes until their deaths?

From inside the ambulance, Matt moaned again. At least he was alive. The men she'd seen earlier weren't.

She stepped around the side of the vehicle and slumped against it. Her head pounded from the aftereffects of the explosion and the events of the night blinked in her mind like they were posted on a theater marquee.

The question she'd asked her source had troubled her from the beginning, and now it did more than ever. If the Rangers wanted a meeting, why would they come into the Vipers' neighborhood? Had this been the Rangers way of getting revenge on the Vipers? Or could it be something else—the work of a vigilante hoping to make it appear like Ranger retribution?

A fireman walked over to the ambulance and stopped at the open back door. Soot covered his jacket and he pulled his helmet off. “How is he?” the fireman asked.

“Just some cuts. He'll be awfully sore in the morning, but he's okay.” Rachel recognized the voice of the first paramedic who'd examined Matt.

“Good. Wish I could say the same for whoever was inside the bar and the guy on the sidewalk.”

The emergency responder inside the ambulance hopped to the ground. Rachel inched further away so they wouldn't see her. “Have you recovered any bodies yet?”

“Just the man outside. From the looks of things, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the fireman said. “We can't get to the bodies inside, though. Fire's too hot. It'll have
to cool off before we can go in. Then it may not matter. Don't imagine there's much left.”

“What happened? A gas leak?”

“Nope. I guess this'll be one for the arson squad and the police department. Looks like somebody tossed a Molotov cocktail through the back door.”

The paramedic let out a low whistle. “You don't say. Think it was gang related?”

“Probably. That's the only kind of violence they have in this neighborhood. If we do find bodies inside, it may be good for everybody. The thugs around here don't deserve to live, but I sure hate to see another innocent victim again.”

“You got that right. I'm sick and tired of answering calls to shootings in this area. No telling how many other folks around here have been caught in the cross fire lately. Most of the time we get to the scene before the police do, but we're under orders not to go in until officers arrive to cover us.” He hesitated. “It's hard not to charge right in when you know children are in danger, but you can't because the shooters may still be around.”

The fireman sighed. “I know. Fire department's the same way. Maybe these guys will just hurry up and kill each other off.”

“We should be so lucky.” The two men's voices drifted away as they ambled in the direction of the fire.

Rachel shuddered at the words she'd heard. Their statements about the gangs being responsible for the crime in the area were true. Many people probably felt the same way. But there was another side that troubled her. No matter how society would judge a person, Rachel couldn't bring herself to believe that murdering anyone was right.

She stepped to the back of the ambulance and peered inside. Matt sat on the side of the gurney. A bandage covered the left side of his forehead from his hairline to his eyebrow. Two
paramedics sat across from him. He glanced at her as she stopped. “Are you ready to go?”

Her eyes widened. “Aren't you going to the hospital?”

He shook his head. “These guys tell me I'm going to be mighty sore tomorrow but I don't have life-threatening injuries. So I think we need to go.”

One of the paramedics glanced at her. “We'd really like to take him to the hospital to be checked out but we can't force him.”

“Doesn't he need some stitches?”

The paramedic shook his head. “The cut looked like it was deep because of the blood. That's typical of wounds around the head. It'll heal all right without stitches.”