22. Elijah
22
ELIJAH
Earlier Today...
I hate to leave her like this so soon after making her mine.
However, it’s not something that can be pushed back.
Not when it’s right within my reach to end this. Him. Everything.
Walking out of the building, I catch sight of a patrol car with two officers inside and make my way toward them. They’re rookies; two guys I’ve seen in passing and don’t give two flying fucks about. However, the woman upstairs, she’s everything to me.
More so than my job. More so than my life.
The one behind the wheel sees me coming and taps the other on the shoulder. Both sets of eyes are on me. Sizing me up. Fucking idiots. Once I’m close, they roll their windows down. “Is there something we can do for you, Detec?—”
“Anything happens to her, and it’s me you’ll have to worry about.”
The cop on the passenger side bristles, his body tensing. “Is that a threat?”
“No.” Both relax and even let out a small chuckle. “It’s a motherfucking promise.”
The laughter ceases, and it’s the driver, Officer McGrady, who addresses me, his eyes narrowing. “Captain Perez will hear about?—”
“I’ll tell him myself. Word for word,” I snap, slamming my hand on the top of the car. Eyeing the squad car’s number, I catalog them for later tracking. I’m friends with many in my precinct, and having this one monitored won’t be hard. “All that matters is that she’s safe. No one goes in. Understood?”
“Understood,” Stein says, holding a hand up in a show of peace. “We know how important this is, Ford. Everyone’s on edge with the possibility of catching the son of a bitch.”
“Then we won’t have any problems.” I give them a nod. “Just keep her safe.”
We’ve been driving for a little over two and a half hours now, and our destination is close. Adrenaline should be pumping through my system, my body thrumming with energy, and so far, I have nothing.
No bouncing of my leg.
No clenching of hands.
No itch to run out of the car and snap his neck.
From our report, we’re so close to the asshole, and yet, ever since leaving my building, something’s felt off. I have doubts. Lyle’s in Yuma, Arizona, spotted and identified with a woman who’s physically similar to Karla, but my gut says they’re wrong.
To go back.
Yet, if there’s the smallest possibility to catch him and save her, I can’t walk away. To serve and protect was my oath, and she —they both deserve that I see this through. We have to get to her before?—
“Everything all right with Ava?” Perez asks from beside me as he turns our headlights off and pulls into a desolate parking lot. The area has poor lighting and a few abandoned warehouses attached; it once belonged to an old mattress company that manufactured and distributed on-site.
Hell, even the old company trucks are still here.
“She’s fine.”
“Why the secrecy?” Instead of answering him this time, I open my door and exit the car, as do the officers in the other three squad cars with us: two from Arizona and one from Los Angeles. They want this scumbag off the streets. He’s been watching me closely since we met up at his office. Gauging my mood. “Ford, if something’s wrong?—”
“I just called her to check in.” I don’t look at him as I walk to the back, pop the trunk, and put my bulletproof vest on. After we catch the jerk-off, I’ll tell him and accept whatever disciplinary action the department gives, but not before. I’m not being pulled from this case. “She’s worried, but okay.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all that matters.” From our viewpoint, I see a few windows and an open door near the right side. There’s a light coming from within; it’s bright, and if I pay close enough attention, I can hear music. Old school rap. What the fuck? “Something is off, sir.”
“We have to make sure.” I can hear the doubt in his tone, but I still agree that we should. The captain looks at those with us, his face serious. “You all have your orders. Get in and save the girl. Keep her safe, but him, dead or alive, makes no difference to me. This ends here.”
Everyone nods, and the men fall into line behind me while Perez stays outside with another member of our team. Their job is to watch the door and shoot, if necessary, anyone who runs from the building not wearing a blue uniform.
I give the command to follow as I walk across the lot, watching where we step to not alert them of our arrival. The closer we get, the louder the music becomes, and I hear two voices, both male, laughing about something.
Holding a finger up, I point toward the right, and two officers rush to the other side of the building, blocking any exit attempt. Once in place, I take my position and, on the count of three, barge in, guns drawn.
“Police! Down on the ground!” I yell out as the men behind me follow suit. There’s a woman’s scream from somewhere in the back and then the sound of shots being fired, then more, as a body crashes through a door.
My instincts kick in, and a red haze overtakes my senses. I’m on autopilot as I press the trigger—firing twice into the chest of a man raising his gun at me. He falls to the ground with a bullet hole in his neck, choking on his own blood as the life drains from his open eyes.
He’s unfamiliar to me, but the man just behind him isn’t.
Anthony Salcedo. Ava’s childhood neighbor. Her best friend’s ex-boyfriend.
There’s anger in Salcedo’s eyes as they meet mine, and he fires a shot, nearly hitting me in the arm. The bullet grazes my skin with no entry wound, and it lodges itself into a wall behind me. There are voices, loud and angry, yelling for him to drop his weapon, but he doesn’t move.
His attention is solely on me, the barrel of his gun pointed at my chest. “You killed my brother, hijo de puta (son of a bitch) . I’m going to make sure you never see her again.”
“Where is he?” That adrenaline I’ve been missing hits me with the full force of a battering ram, and I stretch my neck to the side. I need answers. He won’t walk out of here alive, we both know that, but before he dies, he’ll give me what I want.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Ford.”
“Answer me, cocksucker,” I seethe. “Where is he!”
“Home is where the heart is,” is all he says before firing another shot; it hits my vest-covered chest and throws me back, but not before I answer with one of my own. This one reciprocates where his landed on mine, except there’s no vest to stop it.
Blood pours from the wound, and he falls, the gun slipping from his fingertips. It lands and goes off, but no one is hurt. Instead, it breaks a window of what looks to be a small office. Another female screams. Another victim?
My ears are ringing, and I shake my head to dispel it—trying to make sure that what I think is a scream isn’t the aftereffect of being shot at. It doesn’t take me long to figure out that it’s not, and without thought, I stand on wobbling legs, rushing toward what could be a possible second victim. Disoriented, I kick the door open with my Glock in hand.
The room is small, smells of weed, and hides someone that I never expected to meet.
“Rose Marshall?” Christ, this is going to hurt Ava. The woman looks terrified, but not because she’s been hurt. No. This one has some explaining to do. The way she’s dressed, the loud music coming from an expensive Bose speaker, and the high-as-a-kite look in her glassy eyes tell me this woman was here of her own free will.
She helped them.
“How do you know my name?” Her voice is shaky, her body slightly trembling as she moves her arm to reach for something at her waist. A gun.
“Touch that, and I will be forced to shoot,” I hiss out, already raising my weapon at her. “Don’t force my hand, Rose. Use your head here.”
“Where’s Officer Salcedo and Meyers?” And there is my connection. “I’m his girlfriend, and this is?—”
“You’re under arrest for the aiding and abetting of a fugitive. For being an accomplice in the murder of?—”
“Where the fuck is my boyfriend?” she spits out, frantic, as her eyes dart past me where there’s another commotion. Sirens are getting closer, and from the way I see an officer carrying a small body in his arms from the corner of my eye, I breathe out in relief. Karla was here, and we’ve got her. “You can’t do this to us. Ava needs this.”
I can’t stop my glare or the curl of my lip over my teeth. If looks could kill, she’d be dead.
But before she can try to fight me or reach for that gun at her waist, I’m on her, her hands behind her back, my grip tight as I cuff her. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you?—”
“Jason loves her and will make everything right between us.” Tears run down her face now, leaving tracks of mascara in their wake. “She’s my best friend. We all miss her.”
Delusional bitch thinks they care about her and Ava? She’s just another pawn in this game to them.
I almost pity her. Almost.
Gritting my teeth, I continue to read her rights. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”
“Please,” she whispers low, the reality of just how fucked she is beginning to sink in. “Where’s my Anthony?”
There’s not a single ounce of remorse in me as I stare into her eyes and say the one word that will break her heart. Not when they didn’t care about Ava or her mental state. Not when they terrorized and killed so many innocent women.
“Dead.”
“Anything new?” I ask Baez, the officer who’s been interrogating a still-wailing Rose—off and on for about an hour now—since we’ve been back in Los Angeles. She’s inconsolable and wants my head. Been screaming obscenities that no one pays a lick of mind to.
What we want is answers. To stop Lyle before he reaches Ava.
Then, there’s also my desire to get back to her. It’s an almost uncontrollable need. A compulsion that’s driving me insane as we wait. As I follow orders.
My job requests that I stay, but my loyalty has shifted and is with Ava.
Moreover, until Rose speaks up, Perez has me here. Waiting. Helping to put together a map to pinpoint Lyle’s exact location. He’s been warned, too. I’ll give him another twenty minutes, and then I’m out. Fuck them all.
“Just that we’re pricks and murderers.”
I shake my head, picking up my bottle of water to take a sip. “What about Meyers?”
“MIA for two days now.” At least we have a connection. Know where to start. “We have a squad car on the way to his home. They’re picking up the wife and kids. That’ll draw him out.”
I’m not so sure, but don’t voice it. Instead, I look back down at my notes and the latest information uncovered. The connection between Meyers and Salcedo.
Childhood friends who were on the force a few years back in Dallas, and partners at that. How Salcedo took the fall for Meyers during a sting operation focused on crooked officers taking bribes from a Mexican Cartel near the border trafficking through their city. One was terminated and served some time, while the other asked for a transfer here.
The trio kept in contact over the years.
Meyers flew under the radar and kept to himself. Blending in. Not calling attention to himself while being a good cop—and Salcedo waited. Planned. He bought properties in Mexico and Guatemala, with the final destination being Nicaragua.
He cashed in his favor to be a step ahead of every department. They had a network of officers accepting money and drugs taken from the department’s evidence room after being logged in. That’s how Lyle escaped and evaded recapture. Meyers was his eyes and ears.
Moreover, we had no reason to suspect Meyers until he called my home, and Salcedo wasn’t in Los Angeles. And yet, I still feel as though I’m missing something...
“Have Stein and McGrady been made aware of the situation?”
Baez nods. “Yes.”
“Has Karla woken up in the hospital?” Perez asks from behind me, placing his cup on the desk I’ve been using. “Did she hear anything that might be useful?”
“Unfortunately, no. She’s still out and pretty banged up. Rose did a number on her, sir.”
“Christ,” I say, my disgust evident. “What’s the prognosis?”
“Karla will recover. None of her injuries are life-threatening.”
“And Rose?” I rub a tired hand down my face.
“She admitted to her part in all of this.” Baez pulls out his recorder and hits play, letting us hear her for ourselves: how she used a baseball bat on her, how she found her cries of pain amusing. How she pushed the end of her lit joint into Karla’s skin, laughing as the flesh sizzled and scarred. “Her lawyer is with her now, and we think they’ll try to plead insanity. That she, too, is a victim.”
I’ll be fucked if that happens.
Karma is a bitch, and she’ll get hers by the judge’s hand or those on the inside.
As that thought crosses my mind, another one hits. Louder. Blaring across all processors, and I could just fucking shoot myself for not picking up on it earlier.
Anthony told me. All but laughed about it in my face.
Home is where the heart is.
“Motherfuck,” I hiss out, rushing past everyone and toward the parking lot. Perez and Baez are behind me, yelling my name, but I can’t stop. Not when I’ve been so fucking stupid. When I put her life in danger.
“What the fuck, Ford? Where are you going?” Perez yells from behind me as I click the fob in my hand and the lights of my Camaro turn on near the station’s entrance. “Stop.”
I’m inside my car before they reach me, the engine running before lowering my window. “He’s here in Los Angeles. We need to go!”
“We don’t know for sure. Don’t know where he could be?—”
My phone rings, interrupting him. At once, dread fills me, and my chest becomes tight as I pull out my cell and hit accept. “Baby?” I breathe out, not giving a fuck who hears. Nothing but Ava matters. What sounds like a shot being fired confirms my worst nightmare even before she speaks. “Ava, what’s happening? I’m on my way back...it was all a?—”
“He’s here, Eli. He found me.”