Brennan knew very well what he meant by taken care of. Why couldn’t he escape death? It seemed to permeate his everyday life no matter how he tried to avoid it.
After they rolled out of the fast-food drive-thru Victor bit into his burger and talked around a mouthful of beef.
“I want you to keep an eye on her,” he said,
“Shyla?”
“Yeah, Shyla. I want you to watch her every move, let me know if she has any plans to travel and - if you can - tap her phone. I don’t trust her. She’s like a rabid dog; she won’t give up until she’s done what she came to do.”
Brennan had to admit he liked the idea of keeping an eye on her. It meant that he could help keep her out of trouble, at least where Victor was concerned. If he was going to die soon, he figured the last thing he could do was keep her safe for as long as possible.
“That means I’ll be away from the house more,” he said, “and not able to guard you around the clock.”
“I’ll hire another guard. That’s easy. My priority is to know what she’s up to at all times. She’s not the type to forgive and forget easily. And neither am I,” Victor lowered his voice, “I guess she and I are even more I alike than I thought. That’s bad news for the both of us and not likely to end well.”
*
That night, as Brennan laid in bed thinking, he realized that he had two sores inside his mouth; one on his inner cheek and the other low on the gum line. Now aware of them, he thought back and realized that they’d been there for a while now, perhaps a little over a week.
His mind started racing. Maybe this was just one of many of signs and symptoms to come as his body began to slowly break down under the cloak of his disease. It had been increasingly harder to get up at his usual early hours, and he’d already skipped his morning run twice last week. He had convinced himself it was because of his hectic lifestyle. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
Well, he wasn’t going to do that anymore, no matter how he was feeling. There was no way he was going to go down without a fight.
Restless, he hopped out of bed and stood in front of his bathroom mirror under the glare of the fluorescent light. Did his skin look paler? Blotchier? He opened his mouth and couldn’t help notice there were actually four small sores in his mouth; two he’d not known about on the side of his tongue.
I’m going to die.
He had just acquired his freedom and his life was about to be cut short.
He had so many questions unanswered. He’d told Shyla that his past was better left a mystery, but now he wasn’t so sure. He did want to know where he came from, who he was, who his parents were. She’d offered to help him and perhaps, he realized, he needed to rethink that proposition.
FORTY-FIVE
Shyla had placed the letter on Carmen’s doorstep in the early morning hours and returned to her apartment. Tucked away from the outside world, she spent the entire day researching everything she could find about Victor and his Mafia contacts in an effort to link the upcoming shipment that Ricardo had talked about with past busts or articles on the shipyard and cargo company.
It was dark out when her cell phone rang.
“Ericson here,” she answered,
“Victor was released this afternoon on probation and community service,” Hal Jorgenson’s voice came in strong and clear.
“Hey, that’s progress.”
“Sure,” he snorted, “I guess it’s better than nothing, but I’d hoped that for assaulting an officer, they’d have at least made him serve a little time.”
There was a soft knock on Shyla’s door. She slammed the rest of her fourth cup of coffee.
“Look, Hal,” she said, “we both knew this wasn’t going to be easy. I’ve got some things I want to share with you about my trip, but I don’t want to do it over the phone. Can we meet tomorrow?”
“Sure, of course. Why don’t you come by the house tomorrow after work, maybe around seven?”
Another knock at the door.
“Yeah, seven works. Hey, I gotta go. Someone’s at the door.”
“Probably Shawn. I’m betting he’ll want to tell you the news,” Hal said and hung up.
Expecting Shawn, she was surprised to see an awkward and nervous woman standing at her door, wringing her hands together. It took a second to place the face before she recognized her as Carmen’s mother, Sue Dunsworth. An alarm went off in her brain.
“Well, hello, Mrs. Dunsworth. How can I help you?”
“Where is she? Is she here?” Sue asked, her eyes darting back and forth.
“No, I’m sorry. Carmen didn’t come by here today. Maybe she went to a friend’s house after school?”
Sue’s lips pinched together.
“Nope, nope, the school called this morning around ten to tell me that she hadn’t shown up today and asked if she was home sick. It’s not all that uncommon for her to skip, but she hasn’t done that lately. Not since…well not since she started hanging out with you.”
“Okay,” Shyla said, “well, since she didn’t go to school and she isn’t here, where do you think she could have gone?”
A hint of panic welled up inside her chest but Shyla refused to acknowledge it. It was always best not to jump to conclusions.
“I don’t know or else I wouldn’t be here, would I?” Sue exclaimed with exasperation, “all I know is that she stomped around the house this morning like she had a bug up her butt and right before she left for school, she said you couldn’t come over today for dinner. That’s it. She left before I could ask her why.”
“Did she show you the note?”
Sue’s expression turned wary.
“What note?” she asked.
“I wrote her a note saying that I couldn’t make it to dinner and I thought it was best if we didn’t hang out for a while, until I get some things sorted out.”
Hearing the words out loud, it sounded so trite and she felt ashamed as she imagined the way Carmen would have felt reading it.
“It just seemed like the right thing to do…” Shyla added, her voice trailed off.
Sue looked to have an odd mix of emotions; anger toward Shyla and pleasure to have someone to blame.
“Well, no wonder she ran away,” she accused.
“Whoa, whoa,” Shyla said, holding her hands up, “let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We don’t know where Carmen is. We can’t just assume that because she skipped school she ran away.”
She knew it was her fault. Why did she write that note? Why couldn’t she have just gone to the damn dinner?
“Why don’t you come inside for bit?” Shyla asked, recognizing the need for a new approach, “I’ll get you a cup of coffee and we’ll figure this out together.”
Sue squeezed and rubbed her hands together till Shyla thought they’d start to bleed.
“No, I better not…I think I’ll go try to find her,” Sue turned halfway, then paused before turning back, “if you didn’t want to have dinner with us, you could have just made up a lame excuse. You didn’t have to hurt her.”
Shyla wanted to lash out and tell her that she’s the one who was always hurting Carmen, slapping her around when things got tough. But it would have only made things worse. Besides, she was the one who had inflicted this recent injury.
“I know…I’m sorry. Listen…don’t go. I’ve got friends down at the precinct still. We can give them a call and report her missing, see what they can come up with. They won’t file it until she’s been officially missing for twenty-four hours but I know them, they’ll get the ball rolling regardless.”
Sue shifted back and forth on the balls of her feet like she wasn’t sure whether to walk away into the dark night or walk into the warmth of the apartment.
“I did want to have dinner with you. I was just…I was just scared,” Shyla offered in her remorse.
Sue’s face registered shock then softened to understanding.
“Come in,” Shyla said again, “and we’ll find her together.”
; Sue walked into the apartment.
*
Neither Shawn nor Jason were on duty, but they came immediately after Shyla called Shawn to gave him the run-down on the situation. They both questioned Carmen’s mother about the sequence of events. Meticulously, they went over her history in situations like this hoping to figure out where she could have gone, and a list of names of people she may have turned to. The list was short. Carmen apparently didn’t have many friends, other than Shyla.
“We’ll start a missing person protocol first thing tomorrow morning if she hasn’t shown up by then,” Jason said, “but in the meantime, I’ll go around town and pay a visit to the people on this list and keep an eye out for her on the streets.”
“Thank you,” Sue said.
Shyla was still not sure how to feel about Sue. Her concern for Carmen was genuine but it was hard to tell if her worry stemmed from love or a desire to save face.
Either way, Shyla’s only focus was to find Carmen and make sure she was safe.
“What happened to your window?” Shawn asked after peeking into her bedroom. He’d been wandering the apartment taking notes while they talked and Jason asked questions.
“Oh, you, know, kids out in the parking lot, tossing a ball around.” Shyla said. She gave him a look that said she’d rather talk about it without Carmen’s mother around.
He gave a curt nod and continued the interview. When they were finished, Shyla walked Sue to the door.
“We’ll keep in touch,” she said, “I’ll call you if I hear anything and you can call me anytime. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay…uh…thanks for everything.”
Sue turned and rushed down the stairs.
“You’re welcome,” Shyla shouted after her. She shut the door and joined Jason and Shawn.
“So your window, what happened?” Shawn demanded.
Shyla crossed her arms over her chest. A drink was what she wanted, not a conversation about her life. But Shawn would persist until she came clean if she didn’t fess up.
“A brick happened,” she answered, “last night, around two-thirty, it was tossed into my bedroom. When I hopped out of bed to take a peek, the culprit was already zooming out of the lot. I couldn’t make out a license plate, but I know it was an older Buick by the shape.”
“You think it was one of Victor’s men?” Jason asked.
“No, I don’t. I think this is someone who knew my dad. I don’t have proof but it happened after the bars closed, which indicates a drinker. It happened just days after who I really am and what I’m doing here made the news. My gut just tells me this is someone with old baggage. I’m not really that worried about it.”
Shawn tossed his tablet to the couch.
“Of course you aren’t worried about it, just like you weren’t worried about Victor.”
Shyla had seen that one coming but it didn’t burn any less.
“You know what, Shawn?” she retorted, “We have a missing thirteen-year-old to worry about right now, and Victor is out on the streets again. Some old guy, who is still pissed about what a fourteen year old girl did to her father over a decade ago, is not on my list of priorities. And neither should it be on yours.”
“Fine, we’ll do it your way, like usual,” he said, “come on Jason, let’s comb the streets and talk with the people on that list.”
Ignoring Shawn’s bad attitude, Shyla grabbed her coat.
“I’m going to have a look around, too. I’ll take my car and give you a call if I find anything.”
Shyla locked the door and zipped up her jacket. The temperature was dipping fast and would likely reach freezing point by midnight. She hoped that Carmen was safe and warm in a friend’s house or was smart enough to head home before it got too late.
She felt queasy because she knew that Carmen was hurting, and people made irrational decisions when they were hurting. She knew that all too well.
FORTY-SIX
As she drove up and down the streets with no sign of Carmen, Shyla couldn’t suppress the escalating sense of panic that was tightening her chest. With every empty lane came a larger, more consuming sense of dread.
Just one more street, she’d think. She’d find her walking along in her combat boots and mini-skirt with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She’ll be listening to her iPod and sipping a soda that she swiped from the Walgreens.
That line of thinking had her turn the car around. She’d cruise by Walgreens one more time. It was where she’d first met Carmen. She’d caught her stealing and threatened to bust her if she ever caught her again.
As she cruised through the parking lot, she took note of the car that had pulled in just after her. She could have sworn that she’d seen it earlier when she was on Normandy heading toward the city limits. Keeping it in her rearview mirror, she parked. After taking a quick look through the store, she was relieved that the car was nowhere to be found when she stepped outside.
Paranoid, she thought, that’s what I am. But, after her experience with Victor, the brick through her window, and now Carmen’s disappearing act, her nerves were shot. She wanted a drink in the worst way, to settle the jittery feeling that was threatening to take over.
Pulling out onto the main road, she took a right and, as she passed the Barnes and Noble, the same car she’d seen earlier pulled out behind her. Yeah, she sure as hell was being followed. Well, she didn’t have the patience for a cat and mouse game.
She drove two blocks down and hooked another right into the Safeway parking lot. Acting like she was looking for a parking spot, she watched as the car parked in the small gas station in the same lot.
Spitting mad, she hopped out of her car and marched straight towards it. Drawing closer, she imagined they would spook and drive away, but they didn’t. Her eyes focused on the driver. Brennan. She hadn’t recognized his car.
He opened the door and stepped out.
Jutting a finger into his face, she came unglued.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing following me all over town?”
“You know exactly what I’m doing,” Brennan replied, his expression calm, almost serene. It infuriated her.
“Do you think for yourself at all, Brennan? Or did they completely destroy all sense of self when you were in that institute?”
A flicker of something resembling hurt passed over his features but he recovered quickly, ignoring her ugly tone.
“I have a job. I’m following orders, but I don’t have anything to hide. I knew you’d figure out that I was watching you. I wanted you to know.”
“Yeah, well, you can go home now. I’m not doing anything that would interest either you or Victor. I’m looking for a lost girl and I’m in no mood for this bullshit.”
“I could tell you were looking for something. Who’s the girl? Maybe I can help.”
Shyla’s jaw dropped.
“Are you kidding me with this right now?” she said, “Do you have no ability to follow social cues and etiquette? Here, let me explain this to you, Brennan. I am a cop…was a cop. I want to arrest your boss. Your boss tried to kill me. Now I’m really pissed and your boss wants to try to finish what he started, which is why you are following me around. You are part of the whole “kill Shyla” team. You and I, we aren’t supposed to help each other with anything. Ugh!”
Beyond frustrated, she waved her hand in the air and turned away before immediately turning back. The look on his face was the same. He was just waiting for her to finish having her tantrum.
“Tell me what she looks like and I’ll take the opposite side of town that you do,” Brennan said.
Why did he do this to her? She wanted to hug him. She wanted to slap him.
“It’s no use,” she sighed, “I’ve already been all over town and so have my partners from the station. We’re not going to find her tonight.”
Brennan leaned against his car. He was wearing jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket and looked good enough to eat. If it weren’t for the odd
circumstances, she’d have thought about taking him home with her just so she wouldn’t have to be alone. Shoving that thought aside, she looked towards her car. In her fit of rage, she’d double parked and left the driver’s side door wide open with the engine running.
“I’d better go,” she chuckled.
Brennan reached out to her.
“Wait,” he said, “who’s the girl? Is she family of yours?”
Shyla almost said no but realized how much she cared for the girl, like family. And she hadn’t had family around for so many years.
“Not exactly,” she said, “but, it sure feels like it sometimes. She’s a friend.”
Figuring another pair of eyes would be helpful, she gave a quick description. “She’s thirteen, a little chunky, dark, shoulder length hair, wears combat boots and way too much make-up. Her mom saw her this morning but the school said she never showed up to class and she hasn’t been seen since. She’s mad at me because…well, she just is. I’ve got to find her.”
Brennan reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“Come on, I’ll walk you to your car. I know you’re worried but I’ll bet she’s going to be just fine. We’ll find her.”
She wasn’t sure if she was more shocked about the way he’d defused her anger and was now gently guiding her toward her car, or by the fact that she was allowing him to. He sounded so confident that everything would be all right. But how could it, when it seemed to be unraveling faster and faster?
Brennan eased her into the passenger seat and reached over and buckled her in. “You need to go home and get some sleep,” he said, “I’ll follow you, then make another pass through town before I head home.”
He said it so casually, as if it were normal to have someone who worked for the man who wanted you dead and was trailing you through town to offer to help you home and then finish looking for a lost child. All in a day’s work.