Chapter Fourteen #2
The captain stared at me for a few seconds before looking at Mars.
“I suppose you can accompany Mr. Demarco, but only if you take more agents with you.” He checked his watch before looking back at Mars.
“The jet is taking off in less than an hour so if you’re going, it has to be now.
” He turned to me, reaching out and putting a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t worry about your mom, Mr. Demarco.
We’ll see her safely to the plane, and you can join us when you’re done collecting your things. ”
“Thank you so much.” I felt relief wash over me.
“I’m going to let her know I’ll meet her at the plane.
” As I was walking away, I heard him telling Mars to take two of their team and meet everyone at Henderson Executive Airport where they’d landed before getting the helicopter this morning.
I sat down and explained everything to my mom before giving her a big hug.
She hugged me back and smiled before I joined Mars, Mickey, and two guys they introduced as Napoleon and Patsy.
Napoleon was a tall, black man with a bright, white smile and a friendly personality.
He was the one I’d seen rappelling onto the parking lot from the helicopter beside the captain.
Patsy was about the same height as me, though, more heavily muscled.
He was Irish, judging by the unmistakable accent in his greeting.
Though I couldn’t be certain, I was pretty sure he’d been the agent flying the helicopter.
We went to the lobby of the hotel, and I waited out of sight of the driveway with the others just in case Josiah’s guys were watching for us while Mars grabbed the SUV from the valet.
Once inside, we took off, hurrying to my apartment.
As Mars pulled into the parking lot, I looked around for anyone suspicious, not really knowing what or who I was looking for.
I was rarely at home during the day, so I couldn’t tell neighbors from Josiah’s guys, but I supposed they’d stand out to the FBI agents who flanked me as we headed upstairs to my apartment.
We were walking down the hallway to my door when Mars suddenly stopped, reaching an arm across me to halt my progress as he pulled his weapon. “The door’s ajar,” he said quietly, turning toward the others who’d all pulled their weapons as well.
“We’ll hang back with Cam, Mars,” Napoleon said. “You and Mickey clear the apartment.”
Mars gave him a sharp nod, and Mickey joined him at the front door.
Mars lifted his gun, easing the door open several inches with the barrel.
“FBI!” he called out. I listened but couldn’t hear a reply.
“FBI! We’re coming in. If anyone is ‘ere, show yourself!” He listened a few seconds more, exchanged a glance with Mickey, and canted his head.
Mickey nodded and the two agents eased into the apartment while I held my breath.
I felt safe with Napoleon and Patsy who both looked just as capable as Mars, but I didn’t like the fact that he could be walking into a trap. When he and Mickey reappeared in the doorway less than a minute later, I breathed a sigh of relief until I saw the expression on Mars’ face.
“All clear,” he said, but he looked angry. “Sorry, Cam. They trashed ya flat.”
I felt a chill race through me, but I nodded numbly as he held the door open for me.
Mickey was standing in the middle of my living room beside my TV which had been thrown to the ground and stomped on.
The center of the screen was shattered. That was only the beginning.
My couch had been ripped to shreds, cut up as though someone had been looking for something inside the cushions.
My coffee table—the only piece of furniture I really liked—had been smashed to bits.
The drawer beneath it hung open and the comic books I’d hidden there were all over the floor, out of their plastic coverings, and bathed in what smelled like pancake syrup.
The empty bottle on the ground beside the ruined comics confirmed my suspicion.
Big holes had been punched in every wall.
My kitchen had been trashed, the refrigerator lay on its side, everything out of it.
Orange juice and milk were puddled on the floor and every bottle and jar from inside was broken, spilling everything from beer to olives to ketchup everywhere.
Someone had flung mustard all over the walls in wide arcs and A-1 sauce decorated the kitchen ceiling where someone had thrown it.
The bedroom was much the same…mattress torn apart, clothes ripped off hangers and cut to shreds, mirrors broken, holes in every wall.
Several pairs of canvas running shoes had been tossed into a plastic storage box which had been dragged to the bedroom from my patio.
It was now half filled with water and judging by the empty boxes of grape Jell-O lying beside it, the shoes were all stained bright purple, ruined beyond repair.
They’d done a number in my bathroom as well, smashing the mirrors and tile in the shower with a sledgehammer they must have found in the storage space out on my patio.
It lay on the floor of the bathroom, covered in shampoo, shaving cream, and stinking of my favorite aftershave.
I was looking at the mess when someone called out.
I started to walk out of the bathroom when Mars stopped me with a strong grip on my bicep.
“Stay ‘ere, Cam. We’ll see ‘oo it is.”
I nodded, feeling my lower lip quivering and eyes burning as he turned and headed back out.
I heard voices and inched out of the bathroom and across the floor to my bedroom door, listening.
When I recognized the voice of the building manager, I crept silently down the hall, peering around the corner.
Mr. Murphy was standing in my living room with the four FBI agents, hands on hips, looking around with his jaw hanging open.
“What the fuck happened here?” he growled, looking at the overturned refrigerator in the kitchen.
“Mr. Murphy?” I asked, shakily.
He turned and saw me. I watched his face darken as he pointed a finger at my face. “Mrs. Cleveland said she heard a commotion going on but I had no idea!” he shouted.
“We just got here,” I said, hearing my voice quiver.
“Well, just know this, Demarco! You’re gonna pay for every single thing! It’s going to take a month to clean all this up!”
“As ya can see, Mr. Demarco was the victim of a crime,” Mars said, holding his FBI credentials in his hand. Obviously, he’d already shown Mr. Murphy his badge and if I had to guess, so had the others.
“I don’t care about that! He signed a lease. This is a goddamned furnished apartment. He’s gonna pay for every single thing.” He punctuated everything he said by jabbing a finger at me.
“The FBI may cover the cost of repairs,” Mickey assured him. “Submit a request. We have a fund to reimburse victims of crimes.”
“As long as I fill out a mountain of forms, no doubt!”
I really wished he’d stop yelling. My head was beginning to pound.
“It takes what it takes, mate,” Patsy said. His voice was no longer friendly.
“And I suppose you’ll be wanting to break your lease, Demarco?”
“He can’t bloody well stay ‘ere,” Mars said. “Not when it’s like this.”
“I-I’m moving to Los Angeles,” I stammered.
“That’s bullshit!”
“Lower your damned voice,” Mars growled.