19. Saint
Ihave had some long nights in my life, especially when I was a kid. That night, though, while Rio kept watch with his gun next to him, was one of the longest. Neither of us undressed, and we took turns dozing. I could shoot, I had hunted when I was a kid, so I was capable of using the gun if necessary. I didn’t want to, for many reasons, but I wouldn’t just sit and let someone try to kill Rio and me.
The sun came up to Rio’s head tipped back in his chair, but I could tell he wasn’t completely asleep. I leaned against the wall next to the door, Rio’s gun in my hand. I had been pacing to stay awake and when I realized the time I called Rio’s name quietly.
“Hm, Sexy?” Rio asked, not opening his eyes.
“What are we going to do today?” I asked him. “We need to eat, but…”
Rio sighed. “I know. We’ll go together, once, and grab enough for the day. Hopefully, the car is fixed today and we can leave.”
What if they completely destroyed it? What if someone at the shop is on Greene’s payroll? What if they ‘fix’ it and plant something in it? The thoughts had been plaguing me all night, but I didn’t say them out loud. I assumed that Rio probably had the same ones, and if he didn’t, well, I wasn’t about to shatter his momentary peace.
We let the sun come up and Rio checked in with Lee only to receive a report of ‘no news.’ I didn’t think that was good news in this case, but what were we going to do? We went out around nine, Rio’s gun back in the holster in the small of his back – if he was dressed, he was armed – and hustled to the little diner. We had made a large to-go order, planning to eat the breakfast hot and put the other food away for later in the day.
The restaurant was moderately busy and Rio was On, scanning the crowd while I dealt with the waitress, paid, and took the bags of food. “By the men’s room,” Rio murmured to me, back to the man eating a plate of eggs and bacon across the room. “Watching you the whole time.”
A chill raced down my spine and I had to work to remain impassive. How did they know we would be here? Were there more just stationed around town? Was this guy just here having his breakfast and we ambled in?
“He’s busy, he’s just watching right now,” Rio murmured. “Let’s get back to the room.”
We walked back to the room, and the whole while I felt like I had a target on my back. The lock clicking behind Rio was a welcome sound, and then Rio drew his gun and quickly cleared the room just in case. We ate together at the little table, and after we finished I called the repair garage. “Hello, this is Michael Durand. I was wondering if you’d gotten the chance to check out my car? I really do need to get back home to work, you see…” I said, injecting a carefully measured amount of earnest but urgent contrition into my voice.
“Mr. Durand! Yes, we’re working on it right now. It appears that something was put into your gas tank. I don’t think there is permanent damage, but we will probably need to drop the tank, clean it, and reinstall it. It’s a full day to do that, so unfortunately the soonest we’ll be done is later on tomorrow. We’ll also give it a once-over to be certain everything else is in working order.”
Another night in this town, being watched. I took several slow breaths to try to quell the panic that spiked through me. Rio reached over to take my hand and I smiled at him gratefully as I took one more deep breath. “I’m very glad it isn’t a major repair,” I said. “If there is any possibility to have a rush put on it, I would be completely willing to do that.”
The man on the phone hummed. “We cannot really rush the tank cleaning, unfortunately, because it needs to be allowed to dry completely at certain points during the process. However, I may be able to move some things around to make it a higher priority as much as possible. I understand the need to get back to work and I sympathize.”
“Thank you,” I said, grateful that he was willing to work with me. Rio and I just needed to stay alive long enough for me to pay the man and get my car. Then we would be out of here, in a room booked with a card that has no ties to me. Surely they wouldn’t find us then.
We kept an eye out the rest of the day, ate the food we had taken out that morning, and waited for updates about the car. Shiloah checked in midafternoon, and I told him about the car, then spent twenty minutes convincing him that he didn’t need to rent a car for me. To be perfectly honest, it was tempting, but I didn’t want my car left in some middle-of-nowhere town. It was nothing special but it was mine, a gift to myself when I got the director job. I could see Rio being very non-committal on the chair by the door and I appreciated it.
“Michael, they sugared your tank and they’re watching you,” Shiloah said.
“I am well aware that we are sitting ducks,” I said. “I’m not excited about it. Rio and I are keeping watch.”
“I could hire someone to tow it home,” Shiloah insisted. “I want you to be safe, Michael.”
“I know you do. I appreciate it. How’s this? If it’s not done and we’re still here by dinnertime tomorrow, the answer is yes.”
Shiloah sighed. “All right. I know that’s the best I can hope for. Do you need anything else I can help with? I’m serious, Michael, anything. Does Rio need anything?”
“No, I don’t think so. We’re just waiting this out. Lee is keeping an eye on everything that he can, and we’re in this room until morning. I’m going to call the mechanic again about an hour after they open in the morning to check on the car. I am paying extra to get it pushed up the queue.”
“That’s good. Use my card.”
I wasn’t going to, but I appreciated the offer. “I’ll keep it in mind, Shiloah, thank you.”
He snorted softly but didn’t push me. “Anything,” he said again. “Text me tonight to let me know you’re okay.”
“I will,” I promised.
After I hung up, Rio stood up and came to me, nibbling his lower lip. “All good?”
I nodded and he put his hands on my shoulders, stroking the sides of my neck with his thumbs, then bent to kiss me. I tilted my head to kiss back, forgetting myself and trying to follow when he broke it in a minute and straightened. “One more night,” he said. “And then we’ll be in a different town.” He sighed. “On one hand I kind of think the rental is a good idea, because it would be a random car then instead of the same one that they have to know by now. But I understand where you’re coming from with not wanting to leave your car in wherever-the-fuck, California.”
“We’ll make it tonight,” I said. “Tomorrow, one way or the other, we’ll be gone.” Images of a shootout through the hotel windows danced through my mind, but I pushed them away. We would make it.
We had some food in the mini-fridge from yesterday that we were going to have for dinner. We were aware of the limitations of the microwave, so we had been ordering things that we knew would reheat well. The food in the fridge was mashed potatoes and meatloaf, and Rio had ordered some extra cheeses to use on his potatoes. By the time I was done talking to Shiloah, it was nearly five PM, so I began to reheat the food. I did the potatoes and meat separately, adding the cheese when I heated it so it melted. It looked good and I was looking forward to eating it, so I plated it quickly and took it to Rio at the little table.
Rio pecked me on the lips in thanks and sat down, unwrapping his disposable fork. I opened mine and began to mix the cheese into my potatoes better, and he did the same. He had it nearly all mixed when he began to frown.
I loaded up a bite of meatloaf and mashed potatoes together and had it halfway to my mouth when Rio yanked my arm down to the table, his fist tight on my forearm. “No,” he barked harshly.
“Rio, what the fuck?” I asked, recoiling as much as I could with his fist still tight on my arm. He wasn’t hurting me, but it would have taken effort to break his hold.
“It’s poisoned. Can’t you smell it?” Rio asked, sniffing once at my plate too, then wrinkling his nose. “There’s cyanide in the potatoes, Saint.”
My jaw dropped open and I stared at Rio. “Cyanide?” I asked. “Wha–”
“You can’t smell it?” Rio asked again. “It stinks like bitter almonds.”
I shook my head slowly, looking down at the plate. It looked and smelled delicious, and I would have devoured it.
Rio had his phone in his hand when I looked up again. “Who are you calling?”
“The police! Someone broke into the room and poisoned our food. We’re reporting it!” Rio said. “Hi, I’d like to report a break-in and someone tampering with our food.”
I frowned at him, feeling like I should protest but words failed me as he spoke to the person on the phone, giving our names and information.
“Good, good, we’re at the Motel 6. We’ll be here.” He hung up, tapped his screen a few times, and returned it to his ear. “John, hello. I wanted to keep you in the loop with the case. You heard about the car, right? Good. Well, we went out once today, and they knew we were gone because they clocked us at the restaurant. We ate that food for breakfast and lunch. We had leftovers that were in the mini-fridge for dinner. Michael reheated them, and they’re poisoned. They have the bitter almond smell.” He paused, nodding as he listened. “Yes, I called the police, they’ll be here shortly. Yes, I have all of my paperwork. Yes, I have the email from Lee with all of the information about the case…”
There was a knock then, and I went to the door and looked out of the peephole. Two uniformed officers stood on the other side, one of which was watching the door and the other scanning the surrounding area. I unlocked and opened it, and they both nodded to me. “I”m Officer Vallejo, this is my colleague Officer Roth. Are you Michael Durand?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling myself tense. I worked with police officers plenty, but meeting new officers still made me wary after several experiences with them when I was a teenager. “Come in, please. You spoke to Gregorio Torrez.” I gestured to Rio, who had stood to shake their hands.
“Good to meet you,” Rio said. He gestured to the table. “I have a file explaining why we are in town, but basically I am Mr. Durand’s security, and we are laying low here while some threats are being investigated. We have evidence of being followed. Yesterday when we realized that there were some tails in town, we prepared to leave and found that Mr. Durand’s car had been tampered with. It is currently being repaired, and will hopefully be ready tomorrow, so we are staying in the room as much as possible. This morning we went out to Two Decades Diner to pick up breakfast and something to reheat for lunch. While we were there, one of the people that we had seen before was there. We came back to the room without incident, ate breakfast and lunch, and haven’t been out since. Mr. Durand heated up this food that we bought yesterday and put away for a future meal, a short while ago. When I went to take a bite, I smelled bitter almonds, which to me says cyanide. I presume someone gained entry – something that has happened before during this case – and poisoned the food.”
The officers both looked from Rio to the plate, to me, and then back to Rio. Roth looked somewhat skeptical, but Vallejo was making notes. “Why would you jump to poisoning?” Vallejo asked.
“Mr. Durand was the victim of a targeted drive-by shooting after several other threats, which is what prompted our leaving LA. Since then, evidence came to light that his credit card was being traced to follow his location, and a family member of mine who is a lower-level gang member contacted me to let me know some news he had heard.”
Vallejo was frowning. “And you know who you believe is doing this?”
“Sí,” Rio said. “The files I can give you have ample evidence.”
Officer Roth hummed, beginning to move around the room a little. He peered at our bags, the neatly made queen-sized bed, and the food on the table. He bent and sniffed cautiously and shot a sharp glance at Vallejo. “Definitely stinks,” he murmured. He and Vallejo had a quick, silent conversation with their eyes and Vallejo nodded. “We can get crime scene investigation to collect it,” Officer Roth told me. “We can have it tested and see what pops. Why do you believe you’re being targeted like this?”
I pulled in a big breath. This was where it would go our way or not. “I am the director of a youth shelter in LA. Two of our residents’ parents are… displeased that they are there.”
“The kids came in together? Are they in a relationship?” Roth spoke up.
“No, most definitely not. Our shelter is for LGBTQA kids who have been kicked out or run away because their families were not supportive of their sexuality or gender. One of the kids is a boy, and the other is a girl. They’re both gay.”
I watched Roth close up a little, but Vallejo nodded. “Okay,” he said, writing it down. “You’re certain it’s them?”
“Yes. The young man is Clay Greene, son of Douglas Greene,” I said, and watched them recognize the name. “And the other child is Elena Fernandez, daughter of Julio Fernandez.”
Both officers” heads came up and looked at me. “The Julio Fernandez?” Roth asked.
“Mmhmm,” Rio said. “You can see why it’s been a little snarly.”
Vallejo nodded. “I can,” he agreed.
“I have files on the other incidents, including police reports, photos, et cetera, in an email file that I can send you,” Rio said. “We also have reason to believe they have pulled Mr. Durand’s sister into it. She has made violent threats to their brother, Shiloah Durand, and is currently wanted for skipping her bond in Tennessee. She made statements to both brothers regarding the drive-by shooting that cost Officer Casimir Hallie his leg two weeks ago. She intimated that she was not the one who pulled the trigger, but that she was in the car recording it and wished she had, since she wouldn’t have missed. Mr. Durand was, of course, the target of the shooting and Officer Hallie was collateral damage.”
“Officer Hallie is a friend and colleague, we had dinner together and we were walking back to my car when it happened,” I explained.
Roth and Vallejo glanced at each other as the realization dawned on them that this was far bigger than either of them had thought. “If you don’t mind, I need to step away and speak to my superior,” Vallejo said.