CaughtInTheTrap (3 page)

Zach frowned and looked at her. “Look, lady. I don’t want you here either.  Until I can figure out a way to get you and me out of this mess alive, please sit over there and relax.”

He saw the disturbed look on her face.  She appeared tough, but she was scared to death.  He wasn’t making it any easier by being mean.  However, she was working his last nerve.  The shrill of her voice and the billion questions she was asking had his nerves on edge.  Not to mention there were dead bodies in a bus shelter that had to be removed before anyone spotted them. Then she caused him to lose precious time by searching through the woods for her.  All in all, a three-month plan to get to his target was a complete failure somewhat. The only good outcome was that Carla Parker was still alive.  Only she wasn’t supposed to be with him.

He glanced at her again.  Small scratches covered her cheeks and her hair had curled in tight ringlets with water dripping from the ends.  The white uniform she wore was dirty and soaking wet. Her blood and the blood of the dead men covered the front of her pants and smock.

Zach couldn’t help but feel sorry the woman was beaten and bruised from a battle she had nothing to do with. He opened his mouth to say something then shut it.  There were no words to say to her. If their positions were reversed, he’d be gunning for answers too.  She had every right to be upset with him.

The ride had been silent for miles.  The woman spoke softly. “I know this is the end for me. If possible, may I call my sister and mother and tell them goodbye.  I don’t want them wondering what happened to me or to hear about my death on the news.  I don’t even have to talk to them; you can send them a text message. My mother is disabled, and I don’t want her to worry if you can understand that.”

Zach tightened his hand on the steering wheel and clenched his jaw.  He couldn’t reveal his identity and possibly blow his cover, but he had to let her know he was a federal agent to ease her fears. “I’m not going to kill you.”

She nodded her head and looked out the window. “I guess I’m supposed to believe that.”

“You can believe what you want to believe.  You don’t have your belongings with you. What was in your purse other than your ID?  Did you have an address book or anything that list your next of kin?”

“What?” She asked with a snarl.

He didn’t take his eyes off the road and repeated the question again. “What was in your purse?”

“Stuff like the keys to my apartment, my wallet with my ID in it.  Makeup…stuff women carry in purses. Phone numbers and addresses for my relatives are stored in my phone.”

“Do you have your phone?”

“No, I don’t know what happened to it.  I assume I dropped it in the bus shelter.”

“Dammit. Is the phone password protected?”

She answered dryly, “Yes, it is.”

“Good, that will give you enough time to contact your cell carrier and report it stolen. I’ll arrange to have everything on it erased.”

He felt her glare cut into him.  She said, “Who the hell are you?  I demand you tell me what’s going on and where we are going!” She pointed a finger out the window.  “Why are we getting on the turnpike?”

Zach slowed the car as a semi-truck traveling at a high rate of speed came upon them.  He let it pass.  He’s survived a shootout and refused to be taken out by a truck rolling down a highway. “I can’t tell you that. However, I will let you know I’m a federal agent so you’ll stop worrying about me killing you.”

She released a dry laugh. “Seriously, you expect me to believe you are a federal agent?”

“Once again, you can believe what you want to believe.  What you saw in that shelter was real. You weren’t supposed to see any of that.”

“I didn’t see anything! When the fight started, I was looking for a way to save my own neck—not watching you and those two goons going at it.”

“Trust me, you saw more than you realize and it was too much.  What’s your name?”  He had to be sure he had the right woman.  He’d been following her for a few days, but at a distance.  His detail was to follow her from work to the rapid station in East Cleveland where she would board another bus.  From there another agent would take over so she wouldn’t become suspicious of one person following her daily.  Today, that was supposed to end.  His hunt would be over and Carla Parker’s life never would’ve been interrupted except for the short delay that was supposed to keep her from catching a bus.

She hesitated but answered. “Carla Parker.  I guess I shouldn’t bother to ask your name since you’re a secret agent.”

“My name is Zach Murphy and I’m not a secret agent but a federal agent.”

“Are you with the Cleveland FBI?”

“No, but I am working with them and the ATF on a case.  Where do your mother and sister live?”

“They live in Michigan, why?”

“Do you have anyone living with you? Do you have a husband, boyfriend, life partner, kids?  I need to know if anyone has access to your apartment other than you.”

“Are you trying to be funny?” Carla asked frowning.

He curled his brow and shot her an austere look. “I don’t joke about my work. Look, I have to get anyone living in your house to a safe place.  If you have anybody at home that you care about you need to let me know.”

She sighed. “I live alone.  I have family in the city but not anyone that lives close to me.  Are my mother and sister safe in Michigan?”

He nodded. “They should be okay. I’ll have agents check on them to make sure no one is snooping around.”

“Which brings me back to my original question; where am I going?”

“To a safe house until it’s clear for you to return home.”

“Whoa…wait a safe house? I can’t wrap my head around any of this.  Please pinch me and tell me I’m dreaming?”

“If this was a dream, you’d be awake by now.”

“What about my job? I have a job and responsibilities.  If I get fired, I won’t have a place to go whenever you decide it is safe for me to return home.”

“Carla, is that more important than your life? I don’t want to throw you in a safe house for the hell of it.  Dammit, your life is in danger whether you want to believe this is real or not.  That man you saw will mutilate you and feed you to wild animals if he gets his hands on you.  Is that what you want?”

She covered her face with her hands and rocked back and forth. “I know I’m saying stupid stuff.  I have to say it because then it stays unreal! This can’t be happening to me!  I don’t have a reason for anyone to want to kill me.”

Zach would like to tell her it would be okay, but he wasn’t certain of that himself. Until he could get another lead on his suspect, Carla Parker was his responsibility.

Two hours later, he drove along a dirt road that led to a cabin nestled between acres of dense woods and tall pine trees.  He turned off the car and stretched his arms.  He looked over at Carla sleeping.  Her head was against the window.  He shook his head.  Women were such a pain in the ass when they get messed up in his cases.  He couldn’t stand the hysterical outbursts and them carrying on like children.  Although, he had to admit this woman could probably hold her own in a fight.  She was quick-thinking and her mouth alone would cause a man to surrender just to get away from her. Yet, she looked so tame while sleeping. It never ceased to amaze him how the pint-sized women were the hardest to contain. Aside from her being a pain, he had never had to protect a black woman before.

When he first joined the Special Forces division, he partnered briefly with a black female agent who was excellent at her job and they got along well.  However, she left the force three months after getting married. Listening how his friend Rodney complained about black woman, he had him believing they were all evil.

Rodney told him black women were loud, standoffish, and stubborn.  Zach couldn’t go by that since his female partner was not that way and he’d never been with a woman outside of his race.  So he couldn’t relate to Rodney’s complaints about black women. In a way, Zach felt all women were standoffish and stubborn. Black women shouldn’t solely carry the label when he thought women of all races fell under that category.

Zach mostly worked alone except when special cases like the one he’s working now called for a partner. But, if he had to work with women again, he preferred they be lower in rank than him.  And not because he felt he was a better agent, but because he would make the calls without getting any backlash.  He let them know he was in charge, and they would have to be okay with that.

Zachary (Zach) Murphy, age 37, was single and vowed never to get tied down to one woman. He knew he wasn’t marriage material because he wasn’t family oriented.  He didn’t care for children nor was he the sappy romantic who felt he should be married and have a family by a certain age.  Holidays with his family didn’t excite him either. He missed almost every occasion that called for family get-togethers because he was off somewhere chasing the bad elements that plagued the world.  Marriage and settling down were not a part of his vocabulary. He was married to his job and loved every minute of it.

He opened the car door and got out dreading he would have to wake the sleeping dragon to breathe her fire on him again.  She was getting under his skin and the sooner he got rid of her, the better.  She stirred in the seat before he could poke her.

Carla sat up straight looking around. “Where are we?”

“A place where you’ll be safe for now,” he said closing the door to the old model Ford Continental.  The peeling rust and paint along the bottom of the car fell off from the vibration.  He would dump the car later tonight and get a vehicle to better suit their needs; hence, a reliable car.

Carla got out the car and leaned against the hood, her upper body bent over, her hand holding her hip.  Zach watched her struggle to stand. “Does this place have running water and a tub where I can soak my hurting body?” she asked.

“It has all the comforts of home,” he said walking up the steps to unlock the door to the cabin used by Special Forces agents working undercover. He would take her to an actual safe house as soon as he got his hands on a car that could handle the long-distance drive.  For now, this would have to do; he was tired and needed an hour or two of sleep to recharge his batteries.  Maybe then, he would be a little nicer to Ms. Parker.

Zach let Carla inside the cabin. He went to the shed in the backyard to flip on the generator to get the electricity going and to turn on the water. The cabin was maintained by the FBI and not listed on any map or plat.  The only way to find it would be to stumble across it by foot.  That would not happen since the nearest habituated town was at least fifty miles away.  This cabin was off the beaten path, buried deep in the woods and not visible from land or air.  The FBI maintained several such residences of this nature across the country and around the world.  These residences were so secluded presidents, and world leaders could be stashed in them in cases of emergencies.

Zach returned to the cabin to find Carla standing in the dimly lit living room.  She looked as if she’d taken the bumpy road to Hell and back. “Um, the bathroom is down the hall.  It will take a minute for the water to heat and the lights to get brighter.”

She nodded looking around. “There aren’t many windows to let in air.  It’s stuffy and hot in here.”

“There are reasons for that.  Are you hungry?” He asked going to the kitchen.  He opened the pantry filled with non-perishable food items and removed a box of dried pasta, jarred tomato sauce and bottles of spices.

“A little bit.  What I want to do is get a look at how bad my wound is and get it covered before it gets infected.  You have some cuts and bruises that could use some attention too.”

He hitched his chin. “I’m fine but there is stuff in the bathroom you can use. There are clothes in the closets too.  It’s not a big assortment to choose from, but I’m sure you’ll find something to put on.”

 “Thanks for your help,” she said limping towards the bathroom.

Zach ignored her comment and got a pot from under the sink filling it with water and putting it on the electric stove.  He opened a side panel on the wall and turned on the surveillance cameras that kept watch over the property just in case he was followed.  He knew he wasn’t followed, but it was for precaution.  It was summer and that time of year when nature lovers went exploring.  However, any intruders would be cut off by an electrified fence before getting close to the property.

He washed his hands and finished preparing the food.  Once it was done, he fixed himself a helping of the meatless pasta.  He could use a beer to go with it but tap water would have to do until he got to a store to stock up on fresh food.

Zach heard the bathroom door shut as he sat down at the table to eat. He picked up his fork and twirled the pasta around it and shoved it in his mouth.  He chewed slowly thinking
I guess I should wait for her before I eat
. He shrugged his shoulders and swallowed. “Nah, she gonna be in the bathroom forever.”

Carla stepped out of the tub taking the towel hanging on the rack to dry off.  She gently rubbed around the wound on her hip.  From what she could see, it was a flesh wound. The bullet had grazed her hip and opened the skin deep enough for it to bleed but not enough to require stitches.  Observing the hideous mark on her body she was sure it would leave an ugly scar.

 She opened the medicine cabinet and found a tube of antiseptic cream and a box of gauze pads.  Spreading the cream on the gauze, she tore off enough tape to make a bandage big enough to cover the half-dollar size wound. It was a good thing she had a tetanus shot when she took the home health aide position.  But, she would keep a close eye on the wound to make sure it didn’t get infected.

Carla looked at her hair in the mirror.  Her freshly flat-ironed hairstyle had curled into a tangled black mass of kinks.  She looked for a brush or comb in the drawer. Finding a brush, she pulled her shoulder-length black hair into a ponytail braiding the ends and securing it with a rubber band. “That was $65 wasted,” she mumbled.  She applied antiseptic cream to the small scratches on her face and elbows. She cleaned up her mess and put the first-aid kit away. She picked up her watch to put on her wrist and noticed it was broken. Tossing it in the garbage, she washed her underwear and laid them on the edge of the tub to dry.  She shook her head wiping her hands on the towel wrapped around her body. “I might have to wear someone else’s clothes, but I’ll be damned if I wear their underwear.”