54 (26)

Frank looked up. An older, heavier man in a Hawaiian shirt was walking around the seats to sit by him.

“Excuse me, but who are you?” Frank asked. He felt nervous and guilty, and it was starting to show.

“Word of advice my friend. You need to work on bluffing if you’re going to play poker. I’d stick to the slots.” Frank opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The mystery man sat down. “Now, let’s talk about someone named Gerrard.”

“Are you the police?”

“Nah, I’m his apartment manager.”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because I got to you first, and I’m going to ask nicely. Anyone after me won’t be as polite.”

***

“Please tell me you did number one.” Bob really didn’t want to hear the answer, but he braced himself for the lesser of the two answers.

“Relax. No worries yet. Granted, we are in for a long day when that finally happens.” Phil moved slowly, feeling his way back to the beam of sunlight as his hands picked up a few slivers and a lot of grime and dust. Soon, he was back to his old spot. His back and neck still ached, but his back pain was giving way to hunger pangs. “Do you think any of this stuff is edible?”

“Doubtful. I pried open a few crates and found some tractor parts and a few crates of some kind of grease. It’s not looking too likely.”

Phil looked around the boxcar. “Don’t boxcars have some kind of roof exit?”

Bob looked up. “Why on earth would they? These things aren’t mean for passengers.”

“Well, when I was a kid, I had a few train sets. I seem to remember some of the boxcars had roof access hatches.”

“I think your childhood memories are a bit flawed. Like that argument you lost in college about that one song. I can’t believe you had Gwar and Warrant mixed up.”

“Can we focus on getting out of here instead of how stupid I was in college?” Phil was shining his flashlight at the ceiling of the boxcar.

Bob slid off the crate that was serving as his seat. “Sorry. I just don’t want you to get any kind of hopes up about finding a…”

“Roof hatch!”

“Huh?” Bob flashed his weak cell phone light towards the ceiling. A small trap door was visible.

“C’mon, help me move some of these crates.”

“Wait wait wait.” Bob closed his phone. “Even if we get crates stacked up, what are we going to do? Climb to the top of the train and jump?”

“No, but we can hopefully unlatch the door.”

“Are you nuts?”

“Maybe, but even if we can’t unlatch the door, we can get onto another, lower car, and make a jump when we’re in a town. Do you have a better idea? Didn’t think so.   C’mon, let’s start stacking crates.”

***

“Hey, wake up.”

Clayton opened his eyes slowly. The smell of bachelor pad and burnt toast didn’t offer much encouragement. “Mmmph. What time is it?”

“It’s closer to seven than it is to six. I hope you F.B.I. guys can function on a few hours of sleep.” Will Hetfield was already dressed, and he was annoyingly awake to Clayton. “Here, have some breakfast.”

“Pop tarts?”

“My last two. One strawberry and one chocolate s’more.”

Clayton sat up. His suit was wrinkled and had picked up a good dose of lint from Will’s couch. “I try to eat organic.”

“Lucky for you they’re free range pop tarts. You can eat them on the way to Frank Richmond’s house. It’s been ransacked.”

53 (25)

“Well, do you remember my little sister the time you came out to Spearfish?”

“Of course.”

“Do you remember her guinea pig?”

“Kind of.”

“Well, guinea pigs live in a locked steel rectangle. They do their business in a corner of their cage.”

“What are you saying?”

Bob lifted his arm from his eyes and looked at Phil. “I’m saying, pick a corner.”

***

Officer Laura Black walked down the hallway of the police station. She was looking for interrogation room three, but she didn’t want to enter it right away. She found the number on the report, and flipped open her cell to give it one more try. On the sixth ring, she was about to hang up when the phone picked up.

“Hello” came the sleepy voice on the other end.

“Julio Perez?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“This is Laura Black from the Sioux Falls Police Department. I’m about to interrogate the person you brought in last night. I just had a few more questions.”

“Go ahead.”

“Could you or another security member show us the part of the fence he got through?”

“Sure.”

“What about where all the trains were going last night?”

“There were trains going everywhere last night. As far as trains that left around that time, I’m pretty sure that one was making a short run to Canton.”

“Pretty sure?”

“Well, I’m sure, but there’s a rail yard in Canton that hooks up with other companies, so some of the cars weren’t there long.”

“I see. Would you be able to meet up with some officers in a few hours at the rail yard to find the opening and answer more questions?”

Julio sighed loudly into the phone. “Yeah, just call me about 30 minutes before I have to be there.”

“Thanks for your cooperation Mr. Perez.” Laura shut the phone and tucked it back in her pocket. She opened the door to interrogation room three. Old man B was sitting there, handcuffed and sporting his best grumpy old man look. His fine gray hair was mussed about, and his flannel shirt was slightly unbuttoned and untucked. Laura sat across from him and flipped open the file.

“I’m pretty sure railroad trespassing gets a bigger notice in this town than convenience store robberies.”

“We have a new vigilante for that now.”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind. So, you’re Old man B, or at least, that’s what everyone calls you.”

“Darn right.”

“So I shouldn’t call you Bartholomew McGillcuddy?”

Old man B’s face crinkled inward. “If you know my name, you know I don’t use it very often.”

“Fair enough Mr. B. Why don’t we get you out of here as soon as we can. Tell me all you know about Phillip Anderton and Robert Fulton.”

“What? Why do you want to know about those guys?”

“We know you live in the same building.”

“So?”

“They’re being sought for questioning in the death of one of our officers.”

“Then you’ve got the wrong guys. Those two couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Did you help them on a train out of town? If you can tell us which one, we can drop the charges.”

“I’m done. I’m not answering any more questions.”

Laura got up and walked to the door. She stopped and looked back to Old man B. “I’ll be back in about an hour, in case you change your mind.” She opened and closed the door as Old man B mumbled incoherently.

***

Franklin Richmond sat at the gate patiently. He flipped through the Las Vegas travel guide, as he debated on where to start his casino spree first.

“Going to Vegas?” came a voice from behind him that he didn’t recognize.

52 (24)

Three hours later.

Phil opened his eyes. There was a crack near the top of the boxcar, and a sliver of sunlight was shining over him. His back ached from the hard steel of the car, and his neck was no better off. His clothes were dusty and the air was filled with the smell of rust, stagnation and wooden crates. Slowly, he sat up.

“Morning.”

“Bob? Is that you? I was hoping the whole night was a dream.” Phil heard Bob’s footsteps clanging on the floor of the boxcar. Bob sat on a crate, his boots in the streak of sunlight.

“Nope, last night was real, and we’re in a boxcar.”

Phil sat up and tried to focus on Bob. There was just enough sunlight beaming in to offer a glimpse of him. Phil rubbed his eyes and coughed a few times. “So, how about opening the door a bit. It’s kinda musty in here.”

“I’d love to, but someone latched it from the outside while we were asleep.”

“What?!?”

“We’re trapped in here Phil, and it’s all my fault.”

Phil stood up for a moment. He could feel the train’s movement as he stood. He felt for a crate and sat back down. “Eh, I had my chance to take a different path, but in the end I didn’t, so I’ve got no one to blame but me.”

“Thanks, but I’ll continue to mope for a while if you don’t mind.”

“Do you have any idea as to where we are?”

Bob pointed towards the crack. “The way the sun is shining in, I’d say we’re going north.”

“North? Like North Dakota? Wait, I thought we were going south to begin with?”

Bob laid back on the crate he was sitting on. “I’m pretty sure we were going south, but now we’re going north. Maybe we’re on our way back to Sioux Falls. How about that for a run of bad luck?”

“How long have you been awake?”

“Since about three or so in the morning. The sound of our door being latched is what woke me up. I didn’t wake you because I thought one of us should get a good night’s sleep.”

“Well I appreciate it. Now, where’s breakfast? I could go for some waffles.”

“Oh, don’t talk about food you bastard. I’d almost forgotten about it.”

“Sorry. Maybe we can call the dining car?”

Bob started chuckling. He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. “Yes, this is one of the vagabonds in boxcar 33. We’d like two orders of waffles, bacon extra crispy, three jelly doughnuts, a large OJ and a pot of your blackest coffee. Now, I’ll pass the phone to my associate and he’ll tell you his order.” Bob closed his phone and snickered uncontrollably. Phil shook his head.

“How old are you?”

Bob slowly stopped laughing. “I suppose I’ll have to answer that when we’re booked when we get to wherever we’ll end up. Just when I thought I’d get through life without a record.”

“Ah c’mon. We’ll get out of this. My brains and your whatever will be enough. Just enough.”

“Hmmph.” Bob put his right arm over his face.

“Say Bob,” Phil said as he looked about, “not to bum you out further, but where’s the bathroom?”

51 (23)

Three hours later

Mokoto walked out of the truck stop, and sat her coffee on the ground. She opened one of the side bags and slipped her holster over her shoulders. It bunched a bit of the fabric on her new shirt, but she would have to deal. The shirt wasn’t to her liking, and the jeans were taking some getting used to, but now she was ready to ride. She was about to close the compartment when she noticed the letter sitting at the bottom. She reached down and looked at it more closely. It was addressed to Phil, and the writing looked very feminine. She found a corner that wasn’t sealed all the way, pried her finger inside to open the envelope. She unfolded a three page letter, and began reading.

***

Will handed Clayton a fresh cup of coffee and sat down on a chair. Clayton blew on the coffee as Will leaned back in his chair. “So, are you going to file a report?”

“At 3 AM? No, but ask me again in the afternoon.”

“On behalf of the S.F.P.D., I’d at least like to offer my apology. That officer is at least getting a report from me.”

“On one hand he was doing his job.” Clayton took a long drink of his coffee. “On the other hand, I have this nagging suspicion that some of the people here don’t think a Native American can be an F.B.I. agent.”

“I never asked what nation you were a part of.”

“Ojibwe. I grew up on a rez in Wisconsin.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed you for Wisconsin.”

“That’s okay. I only go back when I absolutely have to.”

“So, what do we do now?”

“Did your officers find Frank?”

“Nope, he’s not home. We have the place staked out, but maybe he’s already skipped town.”

Clayton took a long drink of coffee. “Well, whoever was shooting at me left in a hurry, and they somehow grabbed every important piece of paper out from under my nose. For that alone I deserved the cuff job your guys had me in.”

Will pounded the rest of his coffee. “Do you have a place to stay? I’ve got a couch that’s all yours if you don’t want to crash in a hotel.”

“Eh, I have an expense account, but maybe it’s best if I crash at your place. Maybe we don’t want these N.R.O. and N.G.A. types finding me yet, and sleeping on your couch is too obvious for most intel types.”

“C’mon” Will said as he stood up. “I have a feeling our weekend will get busier before we have the Monday grind rearing its ugly head.”

***

Jon walked along the rail cars. The next train was ready to head out, and once it did he’d get to call it a night. He glanced at every car as he walked by, but stopped at an old, green, rusty Burlington Northern boxcar. The door was open just a crack. Jon pulled out his radio. “Hold up, I need to check one car quick, over.”

“Well, make it quick. We’re ahead of schedule for once.”

Jon pushed the door open a bit farther, and flashed his light around. The loud noises of the rail yard made it hard to hear anything, and a quick flash around didn’t reveal anything out of place. Jon shrugged and lowered his light. He pulled the door closed all the way. “Okay, you’re clear.”

Bob’s eyes shot open as he heard the latch of the boxcar close, and then he felt the train moving once more.

50 (22)

Detective Will Hetfield’s life snapped back into focus. He was halfway into an intersection with cars honking all around him. A few were stopped only inches away from colliding with his. Will balled up his fist and pounded the dash as hard as he could. C’mon Will get it together. He flipped his in-grill lights on and hit the gas, leaving an intersection of confused motorists behind him.

***

“Are you finding everything all right?”

Mokoto looked over the blue-smocked worker. She looked all of twenty, and about seven months pregnant. “Isn’t it a bit late to be working when you’ve got a baby on board?”

“Diapers don’t pay for themselves” the worker quipped, with a slight giggle.

“Tell me something…Ashley. Is there anyplace else open in this town to buy clothing? I need a good heavy duty jacket.”

“There’s a truck stop on Cliff that used to carry a few biker jackets. They’re open twenty-four hours. Were you in a fight?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re all bruised up in the arms and your skirt’s ripped.”

“Oh, well…I kinda fell out of a tree.”

“For real?”

Mokoto smiled. “Last dare I take tonight. My laundry basket is overflowing, so I decided to get a few days worth here. Hey, guys do it all the time, right?”

“It’s like you know my brother.” Ashley said, putting her hand on Mokoto’s shoulder. “He is totally that way.”

Mokoto held up a pair of black jeans. “I’m guessing your fitting rooms aren’t open at this hour.”

“They sure are. Follow me.”

Mokoto breathed a sigh of relief. Now her only worry was hoping that Wal-mart jeans weren’t as uncomfortable as they looked.

***

Clayton had waited long enough. He took a deep breath and slowly inched closer to the door opening. He didn’t see anything. He began standing up. His knees made small cracking noises that seemed ten times louder tonight. He counted to three in his head and spun around into the doorway. His trigger finger was in place and his gun was leveled at the doorway all the shots had been fired from. He was ready for anything. However, he wasn’t ready for absolutely nothing. No one popped out, no one fired shots, and he didn’t hear anyone move. There were two bodies in the other room, and Clayton slowly walked towards them. No one spun into the doorway to greet him. Clayton swung his body into the doorway, and leveled his gun to the right and then quickly to the left. His aim found no one, as the room was empty, save for the two lying on the floor. Gene and Ruth were lying on the floor, and as Clayton stared, he could see them both breathing. A door swung open in the hallway with such force that the knob hitting the wall almost sounded like a gunshot itself. Four policemen rushed out with their guns drawn. Clayton knelt by Gene. “We need to get…”

“FREEZE. ON THE FLOOR NOW!”

Clayton put his hands up, and calmly spoke. “I’m F.B.I. My ID is in my jacket pocket. Darlene in the other room can confirm.”

“ON THE GROUND OR I’LL SHOOT!”

Clayton laid on the cold tile floor, really wishing he’d remembered his lanyard.

***

Police cars continued to rush to the hospital. Police were running into the doorway, not noticing a black Cadillac pulling away into the night. Jebediah sat patiently with his laptop out as Jeremiah scrolled through his contacts. “With Gerrard’s body missing and possibly not dead, our next best bet is this Frank. Do you have a location?”

“I found him. Who are you calling?”

“With this development, we need a new forecast. Gerrard is good, but if he’s alive we’ll find him soon.”

49 (21)

Clayton waited. Then he waited some more. It had seemed like five minutes since he mentioned Gerrard’s name. There had been no response. He had one clip left, and he had no idea how many of them he was facing. He glanced at Darlene. She was breathing easier now that the gunfire had stopped. The silence continued to give no clues as to his next move.

***

Julio Perez looked out the window of his office. There were still no police cars pulling in. Old man B’s barbs were continuing to grate on him. Julio reached for the phone. Old man B pointed and smiled. “Hah! Some railroad trespasser isn’t worth the time of the cops. You might as well let me go.”

“Listen, you’ve been nothing but an uncooperative pain since I found you by the fence. By the way, you’re paying for that.”

“Paying for that? Huh.” Old man B uncrossed his arms, then recrossed them. “That rip in the chain link has been there since the mid 1960s. Fat chance I’m paying for something your company should have fixed decades ago.”

“We did fix it. I fixed it last month.”

“The hell? It was in the same place I remembered.”

“It’s a popular place to cut the chain link to get into the rail yard.” Julio began walking in a circle around the room. “So, if you didn’t cut the chain link fence, maybe the people you helped did.”

“Those clowns. Huh. No way. They were too wet behind the ears to figure that part out.”

“So you helped more than one person?”

“Uh…um…so what if I did?”

“Well, we’d need to know what to charge you with.”

“Typical railroad bull. All talk and no action. Even the Sioux Falls Police are…hey, what are you doing?” Old man B was being lifted up by the right arm by Julio.

“Well, I’m going to take you in personally. If they won’t come to me, I’ll go to them. I’ve got another bull who can keep an eye on the place.”

***

It was a sunny day. The birds were especially loud. Will was just two weeks away from finishing his training. His job with the Sioux Falls Police Department was a sure thing. He was visiting his mother and father in Brookings when the black car pulled up. The man wore all black, and had little to say, other than that Will’s only brother had died the previous week. He couldn’t tell them why, how, or even exactly when. They didn’t even release his body to the family. They had a private ceremony for an empty grave, and an empty citation from the President and head of the C.I.A. Will thought about how his parents were never the same, and how he swore he’d never help the C.I.A. with anything if he could help it. He could feel the anger again building inside. It was as if someone had ripped a six year old band-aid off his soul tonight. He wanted to drive back to the station and find that Garrett person and…

SKREEEEEEEE

BEEEEEEEEEP

48 (20)

Will lowered his phone. Tina saw a look of concern and fear on his face, then she saw his arm shooting towards her. He violently grabbed her radio handset from her shoulder clip, almost before she could react. “Will, what th-”

“ALL UNITS ALL UNITS! WE HAVE AN ARMED CONFLICT AT THE MORGUE. ALL UNITS RESPOND. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. REPEAT! ALL UNITS, PLEASE RESPOND TO AN ARMED CONFLICT HAPPENING RIGHT NOW AT THE CITY MORGUE!!”

Will released TIna’s radio handset and began running towards his car. Tina blinked, and turned towards her car. She knew now that getting out of work on time tonight was going to be the least of her worries.

***

Mokoto’s teeth chattered in the cold evening air. She tried to keep them from their noisy protest, but the chattering wouldn’t stop. She needed to get a new jacket, or at the very least a sweatshirt. There was no way she’d be able to ride her motorcycle in just a sleeveless shirt and a torn skirt. She was really hoping that she remembered the way to Wal-Mart, and part of her thought she’d rather be cold all night. She felt a sudden vibration on her hip, and she pulled over. After taking off her helmet, she flipped open her Nokia.

“M-m-m-m-mokoto here.”

“Are you all right? It sounds like you’re cold.” The voice was familiar and altered.

“I had a bit of a situation and my jacket is toast, for real.”

“Ah. Any luck with our friends?” Mokoto didn’t respond initially. “So, that’s a no?”

“We’ve had some setbacks. J & J are checking one of our last leads.”

“Leads? I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“Well, when I can put it a way that makes you happy, I’ll call you back.” Mokoto closed the phone and then turned it off. She sat on her motorcycle a moment, pondering her next move. Her boss would not be happy if she didn’t get the data he wanted. The prospect of another big payday lingered in her mind, but the dream also clawed at her memory. She thought for a moment about this being the last time she took a job, and she remembered one her mentor’s words of advice from what seemed like a lifetime ago.

If you start thinking about getting out, it is time to get out.

***

Darlene was on the verge of hyperventilating. The sound of bullets hitting concrete and the deafening booms of Agent Iron-Horse’s pistol kept pounding in her ears. She had seen plenty of gunshot trauma, and had even heard a gun fired in her life. Suddenly, the gunfire stopped, and her frantic breathing was all she heard.

“Mister FBI” came a voice from the other room. “Maybe we can work out a deal.” Clayton was in a squatting position, leaning against a wall. He had about one clip left. He knew that talking might be his only option until help came.

“All right. I’m listening.”

“We just need to check a friend of ours for something of ours. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Clayton thought for a moment. Darlene was still shaking, and with the amount of lead they’d already pitched his way, he was assuming they had more bullets than he did. He took a deep breath. “If you’re looking for Gerrard’s body, you’re out of luck. He’s not here.”

Silence.

47 (19)

*PFFT* *PFFT* *PFFT* *PFFT*

Clayton knew that noise. It was never a good noise to hear, and he knew he had to act fast. He reached out and clenched onto Darlene’s arm and swung her with all his might into the smaller examining room. Her eyes shot open wide and before she could protest, she was spinning into the other room. Her head hit the wall, and she collided with a file cabinet. Clayton crouched down into a low stance and quickly backtracked into the room. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his sidearm. “FBI! Drop the guns!” he shouted, hoping he had heard wrong.

He hadn’t. Jeremiah and Jebediah took positions of cover around the door jam, and started shooting at the wall where they heard the agent call out.

Bullets impacted the concrete wall separating Clayton from Jeremiah and Jebediah. Clayton quickly popped his head and gun out and fired three shots towards the doorway. His gun didn’t have a silencer, and the shots echoed throughout the morgue. Clayton darted back around the wall, as more gunfire hit the wall. “Darlene! Get down!” Darlene dropped to her knees and put her hands over her head. “Darlene, it’s not a tornado drill. I need your help.”

“I’m not armed! I don’t wanna die!”

“That makes two of us. Here.” Clayton slid his cell phone under Darlene’s head. “Call Will Hetfield and tell him to send everybody the Sioux Falls PD can spare and then some! AND DO IT FAST!” Clayton took a deep breath and spun around. He fired four more shots and then spun to the other side of the door.

***

Will Hetfield tossed out his coffee and stopped himself from tossing the cup into the bushes. He slowly walked up to Tina. “Look Tina…I…”

“Forget it Will. It’s been a long night. I just want to finish this before sun up.” Tina was staring at the apartment, watching the forensics team pull evidence out slowly.

“No, listen. It’s…it’s my brother.”

Tina turned to look at Will. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“He was CIA. The whole family was proud. He was someone I looked up to.”

“Was?”

BZZZZZT

“He died sometime around 2002.”

“Geez, I’m sorry Will. I had no idea.”

BZZZZZT

“We never got a reason. All we got was the song and dance about how it was for the good of the nation, and that maybe in fifty years they could tell us.”

“That’s awful.” Tina said as she walked up closer to Will.

BZZZZZT

“I swear, that Lewis lady knew something. She mentioned CIA almost to push my buttons about this. It was just the way she said it.”

BZZZZZT

“Will…”

“I know, I know, I should focus on this case and not let my feelings get in the way. But the way they were ordering around Hale. It was like they took over the precinct.”

BZZZZZT

“Will…”

“It…it’s just frustrating, you know?”

“As frustrating as calling a police detective who doesn’t answer his phone?”

BZZZZZT

“Oh, right.” Will looked at the caller ID and saw Agent Iron-Horse’s number. He casually opened the phone. “Detective Hetf-“

“OH MY GO******************Y GOSH!!! WE’RE IN THE MORGUE *****E’RE BEING SHOT AT ******** I DON’T ******O DIE!!! HELP US!!!” crackled the phone. There was a lot of static, and then nothing. Will flipped the phone around.

[call lost]

46 (18)

Will handed the coffee to Tina. “So, how is your night going?” Tina rolled her eyes.

“Oh, nothing I like more than spending Friday night dusting for fingerprints and looking for a missing apartment manager. Great fun.”

Will took a long sip from his coffee. “At least you missed out on the Mulder and Scully wannabees I ran into. I just hope you can get them off my back. I’m sure Hale sung my virtues after I left. I didn’t exactly give them a lot of confidence.”

Tina looked back to apartment five. “Well, so far we’ve only found prints in the usual places. There’s the kick in the doorway, and the forensics guys haven’t had much luck, other than shoe prints in the shower.”

“Excuse me?”

“This Dinkley guy didn’t keep a very clean shower, and they spotted two distinct sets of shoe prints in the shower. They’re checking the curtain for prints now.”

“So, our big lead is a set of shoe prints in a shower. The National Geo-Space whatever agency will be thrilled.”

“Didn’t you say they also claimed CIA cred?” Tina asked. Will stared at his coffee, then looked at Tina with an icy stare.

“Let’s not bring up the Central Intelligence Agency again please.”

“Will, I wasn’t tr-“

“Just forget it” Will said as he stormed off towards the apartment.

What the hell is that about Tina thought to herself.

***

“I’m missing out on my big plans tonight Pancho Villa. You’d better let me go. I’ve got rights!” Old man B yelled.

“Pancho Villa, that’s a good one. That was almost as good as calling me Taco John. What part of your brain tells you that yelling at me and calling me names is going to get you out of here?”

“My car is unlocked! I have valuables in it!”

“So again, why were you in the rail yard. Maybe if you give me any reason to let you walk I might take it” Julio said, rubbing his temples. The crazy old man was slowly driving him to either madness or a headache.

“Typical railroad bull. Keepin’ the man down. Why, sometimes a guy just wants to get out of town. This is why I don’t help anyone…starting now.”

“Wait wait wait, did you say ‘help get out of town’?”

“Maybe.”

“You helped somebody hitch a ride on one of our trains?”

“Pfft. Our trains. My taxes help give your company tax breaks mister. In a way they’re my trains too.”

Julio leaned on the door and started dialing the police again. This is going to be one of those nights.

***

Gene hung up the phone. “Well Agent Iron-Horse, Chapel Hill claims they received no body from us today for cremation. Now what?”

Clayton uncrossed his arms and paced for a moment. He leaned against the wall and put his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t you get me the names and addresses of all the funeral homes in town? I should check them in person, but I have a feeling there is no body, and your old boss took a healthy bribe to fake a death.”

“But why?” Darlene asked, as Gene walked out of the room.

“Sorry Darlene. All I can say is that he had his reasons, but he won’t stay off the grid for long.”

Gene went to the box on the door that had the photocopies of the list of funeral homes. As he walked away from the door, it opened behind him. “Agent Iron-Horse, here’s a list.”

“Agent?”

Gene didn’t know that voice. He turned around, only to see Ruth being shoved to the ground with a lot of force, and two men with guns. They didn’t speak in words, but their muffled gunshots bid Gene and Ruth a quick farewell.

45 (17)

Mokoto blinked, and then she stirred into action. She rolled her body against the wall of the apartment building. She looked at the grass where she had landed, but she didn’t see any blood. She felt a sharp pain in her back, and one of her legs didn’t feel quite right, but she was alive. The last thing she remembered was leaping for a tree, and choosing a branch to grab onto. Her choice of branches had left a bit to be desired.

***

Justin looked at Mike. “Why do you think there’s part of a leather coat in the tree?”

“Maybe our bandit made a jump for it?”

“You’d think they would have just lowered themselves and risked it. The tree was a gusty but stupid idea.”

“Ms. Gravley, do you know why there’s a leather jacket in the tree.”

Mabel got up from the sofa and saw the leather flowing in the night air. She recognized it almost instantly and began shaking and crying again. “Please PLEASE PLEASE get me to the police station. I need protection!”

Mike walked over to her. “Ma’am, what do you mean?”

“They’ll kill me, they’ll kill me. The two men who were here earlier. That jacket looks just like the one they had on.”

Justin walked over. “Ma’am, did you say there were two men here earlier?”

***

Mokoto looked up. The lights were gone, and she was waiting for the window to open. After ten seconds of it not opening, she sat up and surveyed the damage. All she had left of her jacket was her right sleeve and maybe a fourth of the back. Her skirt was torn on the side, and her sleeveless shirt was ripped in a few spots. Her shoulder holster was twisted around, and quickly Mokoto realized that she’d have a gun-sized bruise on her back. After adjusting her holster and standing up, she looked up. There were still no lights shining out the window. She walked forward and saw an envelope and her cell phone on the ground. She bent down to pick them up, and she noticed the letter was the one she took from Phil and Bob’s apartment. She quickened her pace and started walking towards her motorcycle, which she’d parked in an adjoining parking lot. She reached up to climb the fence between lots, and saw blood on her left hand. A quick check revealed that she had a pretty nasty scrape on her left arm that was dripping a small amount of blood down her arm. She paused and stared at the cut. It was almost in the same spot as the gash in her dream. The dream…it was different this time she thought to herself as she checked her holster. The picture of Sakura was still inside it.

***

Ruth flipped another page of Soap Opera Digest. The hospital was unusually quiet for a Friday, and there were no complaints from Ruth. She glanced up, and two large African-American men were walking up to the counter.

“Can I help you two?”

Jeremiah leaned over the counter and looked her over. “Ruth is it? Yes Ruth. We need to see someone in the morgue.” Ruth’s neck twisted slightly as she looked at Jebediah. He said nothing.

“I’ll have to call Darlene up.”

“Why don’t you take us there Ruth? We won’t be long.”

“I…I shouldn’t leave the desk. Besides, you haven’t given me a reason to take you there.”

Jebediah walked up to the counter, and rested his hands on the Formica. One of his hands held a gun, and he spoke in a low, quiet voice. “Take us there. Now. Or would you rather go alone?”