No Such Thing as a Free Ride (27 page)

I got out the matches Crystal found in Star’s backpack and Googled the location for the Lemon Tree Motel. It was in the same general direction as the garage. Grabbing my pocketbook I headed out.

I’d parked my car on the street in order to avoid the creepy new attendant Management had hired to patrol the parking garage. Last week I’d caught him peeling off bumper stickers he’d found personally offensive and replacing them with “Jesus Loves You” decals. And while I’m all for Jesus loving me, I thought that was really nervy.

The car had been baking in the sun all day and it was steaming hot inside. I unlocked the door and hopped in. Turning on the engine, I adjusted the mirror and blasted the air conditioning. As I pulled away from the curb I remembered I’d left my laptop sitting on my desk, so I drove up in front of the building and got out, leaving the engine on to cool off the car. I figured it would be safe, since the Le Sabre was older than half of the city’s population, which really cut down on its desirability factor.

Out of breath, I grabbed my laptop and took the stairs two at a time back down to the lobby. My car was still there, proof positive that I couldn’t give it away if I tried.

I climbed back in and was about to put the car in gear when I was struck with the putrefying odor of massively sweaty gym clothes. I did an automatic armpit check.
Nope. Not me. Wow. Something must’ve crawled into the air conditioning duct and died.

I checked the rear view mirror and jumped a mile as two beady eyes, surrounded by a halo of wiry, copper-colored hair stared back at me.

“Surprise.”

I screamed and tried to scramble out of the car, but she snaked her arm around my throat and slammed me back against the seat. My hands flew up to wrench her tattooed arm away. Bunny held fast, digging into my skin with grimy fingernails.

Grabbing the steering wheel, I searched frantically for the horn. She raised her other arm, and I glimpsed the tip of a knife, its reflection gleaming in the mirror. She pressed the blade against the base of my skull, drawing blood, and I cried out in pain.

“Shut the fuck up and drive,” she snapped, releasing her arm from around my neck.

As I was not in a position to argue I drove.

Hands shaking, I pulled away from the curb and started off down the street, my eyes darting about in search of a police cruiser, cop on horseback, meter maid,
anyone
who even remotely resembled an authority figure. I drove slowly, as one erratic move could send the knife plunging into my flesh.

From deep within my pocketbook my cell phone rang. Bunny made a grab for it, checking the readout.

“If that’s John, could you tell him I’m indisposed and ask him to walk the dog for me?”

She answered by rolling down the window and tossing the phone out.

“Bunny,” I said, gauging my words carefully, “I get why you’re mad at me, but I swear I didn’t rat you out to the cops. I could help you if you let me. I don’t believe you killed that woman.”

“What makes you so sure?” she asked, spewing rancid breath all over the back of my neck.

Maybe it was just my optimistic nature that preferred to think of Bunny as a misunderstood youth rather than a murdering psychopath.

Bunny leaned in close to the side of my head. “I’ve got some friends waiting for us,” she said, her mouth practically sucking the wax out of my ear. “You brought the cops down on us. You fucked with my family and now you’re going to pay for it, bitch. How’s it feel driving to your own funeral?”

“Not that great. Look,” I said, sweat trickling down my side, “could we just pull over and talk about this?”

“If you don’t keep your fucking mouth shut I’m going to cut your fucking tongue out.”

“Jeez, Bunny, you could’ve just said no.”
Oh fuckin’ A. Why am I baiting her like this? Why can’t I develop a nervous tick instead of running at the mouth in tense situations?

In the rear view mirror I caught sight of a police cruiser coming up behind us. My heart rate tripled and I prayed they’d zoom up next to us, but they hung back, allowing a Smart Car to wedge in between us.
Stupid Smart Car.

“Make a right at the corner,” Bunny ordered.

My panic deepened. She was taking me farther away from the cops and the city. I had to stay on main thoroughfares if there was any chance of getting out alive.

The light was turning yellow so I slowed down to stop. “Keep going,” she screamed. “Make the goddamn turn!”

Oh shit! I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.
So I did.

The corner was clear, so I wrenched the wheel to the right, grabbed a hold of the door handle and bailed out.

My shoulder hit the ground and I rolled a few feet into the intersection. The car kept going up onto the curb and slammed into the light pole. I laid in the street in stunned silence, blood oozing from the side of my head.

Bunny emerged from the car and stumbled down the street. I forced myself to my feet and hobbled after her. A crowd started to gather as the cops pulled up to block off the intersection.

“Stop her,” I yelled as she began picking up steam. “She’s getting away!”

I lunged at her back, catching her around the middle and we landed hard on the sidewalk, Bunny rolling on top of me from sheer momentum. I extended my arms and felt a searing pain in my left shoulder as I shoved her off me. She made a grab for my throat and I twisted out of reach, balled up my fist and delivered the sweetest right cross you’d ever want to see, hitting her dead center in the nose. Bunny was down for the count.

I felt a pair of strong arms lift me off her, but before I could utter a word of thanks, pain shot down the length of my left arm as my hands were wrenched behind my back and cuffed.

“You have the right to remain silent.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” I yelled, twisting around to eyeball the cop. “She’s a fugitive! She’s wanted for questioning in the Olivia Bowen murder case. You guys should be thanking me, not
cuffing
me!”

Two more cop cars arrived on the scene, followed by a fire truck and an ambulance.

A guy in shorts and a wife beater undershirt stood on the corner staring at me and nudging his friend. “Yo. It’s that chick from tv. You know, the one that wrestles alligators and shit. Yo! How
you
doin’?”

Oh my God. I’m in the middle of being arrested and this guy’s flirting with me!”

“Great! And thanks for watching WINN!”

Bunny was starting to stir. Blood gushed from her nose. It looked broken. Good. A paramedic was bent over her, checking her vital signs. She pushed him away shouting a few choice words about his sexual preferences and then spat at the officer crouched down beside her. He looked like he wanted to give her a swift kick. To his credit, he didn’t.

“Please,” I told the officer. “Just call your precinct. I’m telling you the truth here.”

He left me sitting on the curb, handcuffed and humiliated while he went to confer with his buddies.

My head was pounding and the back of my neck stung as if someone had poured acid on it. When I’d bailed out of the car, the knife scraped the surface of my skin. I was lucky she hadn’t sliced my head off.

The cop came back in a few minutes and he was a lot nicer the second time around. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, Ms. Alexander,” he said, uncuffing me. “We’d appreciate it if you could come with us down to the station and make a statement.”

“No problem,” I told him, getting to my feet. And in the next instant I was on my way back down to the pavement.

I woke up in the E.R. There was a huge knot on the side of my head where I’d hit the sidewalk, so I was sure I was hallucinating when I opened my eyes and saw Nick staring back at me. I blinked and he was still there.

Gaah! How long has he been watching me sleep? Was I drooling? I need a comb! I need a toothbrush
! I looked down at my clothes, torn and bloodied from my dive from the car.
I need a fashion makeover!

“Um, hi.”

“Hello, Angel.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“The hospital called me. Seems I’m your ICE number on your cell phone.”

“Oh,” I said, turning beet red. “I mixed you up with a
different
Nick. My ‘In Case of Emergency’ was supposed to be Nick San—ford—stein. We went to high school together. Great in a clutch! Voted most likely to succeed!”
Oh God, Brandy, just stop talking!

Nick cut me a smile. “I could call this Nick San—ford—stein for you, if you’d rather.”

“No, no. Stick around. I mean as long as you’re here. So, how did I end up here, anyway? The last thing I remember is punching Bunny’s face in. Did the cops arrest her?” I asked in a sudden panic. “I need to get out of here.” I tried to swing my legs over the side of the bed but a wave of dizziness forced me back down again.

“Hold on there, Darlin.’ You’ve been out cold for a while.”

A nurse came in and checked my vitals. Actually, three nurses came in where none were needed, which led me to believe
I
was not the big attraction. “Glad to see you back among the living,” she said, but her eyes were on Nick. “Your room is just about ready.”

“My room? Oh, but I can’t stay! I’ve got to find a runaway girl, help the police catch a killer, plan a baby shower for over 300 guests plus take my dog for a walk, he has to go potty.
I’m very busy
!”

“I’m sure you are, but you’re going to be here for the next 23 hours so that we can observe you.”

“But I’m
fine
, really—except I
am
feeling a little low on energy, so if you have a Hershey Bar handy, I’d really appreciate it.”

The curtain was pulled back and in walked the cop who’d tried to arrest me followed by DiCarlo. He didn’t look too happy to see Nick there. Actually, he wasn’t looking too thrilled to see me, either.

I sat up and rubbed the back of my neck. Someone had stuck a bandage on the cut and it was starting to itch. Bobby gave a cursory nod to Nick and walked over to the bed.

“This is official business,” he said, the little pulse in his temple working overtime. “Are you up to answering a few questions?”

No ‘hey, how are ya?’ Boy, he was really mad at me.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Listen, Angel,” Nick said. “It looks like you’re in good hands, so I’m going to go.” He leaned over the other side of the bed and kissed the top of my forehead. Bobby’s temple looked like it was going to pop an aneurism. “You’re welcome to borrow the truck for as long as you need it,” Nick added.

“Thank you. I, um—”

“Take care,” he said and then he was gone.

The abruptness of his departure was like a punch in the gut. I’d thought that getting Nick to open up about his past would bring us closer, but I could feel him drifting farther and farther away. Well, maybe it was the concussion talking, but I was damn sick of this “Lone Wolf” bit. Whether he could admit it or not, Nicholas Santiago needed me. And I wasn’t about to give up on convincing him of that.
Not by a long shot.

“Now,” I said, turning my full attention to DiCarlo, “to quote an old boyfriend, ‘What crawled up your butt?’”

The officer he came in with made a valiant effort to suppress a smirk but failed. Bobby shot him a death ray.

“I’m, uh, just gonna go get some coffee,” the cop said, making a beeline out of the cubicle.

I could tell Bobby was trying to refrain from going off on me—at least while the nurses were still in the room. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “You wanna tell me what you were doing paling around with a prime suspect in the murder case I’m working on?”

“Unhhh! This was
not
my fault! And frankly, I’m sick of people jumping to conclusions about me all the time!”

He was quiet for a minute. “So, what happened?” he asked, finally, rubbing his hands over tired eyes. Instantly, I felt bad for yelling at him.

Wrestling with the pain in my head and arm, I took a deep breath and told him everything.

“So far, Bunny’s not talking,” he said when I was through. “Code of the streets and all that. Plus, she’s nuts. It may take a while to get her to open up. Listen, I’m sorry about before,” he added. “I just worry about you, y’know?”

“I know. I worry about me too, sometimes. But I swear, Bobby, I’ve been so much better lately. Working out,” I cited, “asking for help, looking before leaping. I’d just like some credit for it.”

“Understood,” he said, with a small, dimpled grin. “Listen, I’ve got to get back to the station. I’ll keep you posted on what’s happening with Bunny, and if you can think of anything else give me a call. I’ll check in on you later,” he said, turning to go.

“But what about Eleanor Grady?” I called to his retreating back. “I really think you should look into her.”

Bobby glanced back over his shoulder. “Get some rest!”

*****

“When you said you wanted to take me out to lunch, I thought you had something a little more upscale in mind.” Uncle Frankie took a giant bite of his hoagie and leaned back in the cab of Nick’s truck, giving me the once-over.

“What? You don’t like your sandwich? I ordered it just the way you like it. Extra everything.”

He didn’t say anything while he chewed and swallowed. Frankie takes eating very seriously. It’s almost a sporting event for him. Finally, he said, “So why are we sitting in Santiago’s truck spying on people from across the street?”

I raised my good arm and took a sip of soda. My other arm was in a sling, pretty banged up but, thank God for small favors, not broken. “Okay, the truth is, we’re sort’ve on a stakeout.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his interest piqued.

“Yeah. I’m waiting for someone to come out of the building
, but waiting is soooo boring.
I just wanted some company.”

“Who are you stalking?” Frankie asked, taking a swallow of Dr. Pepper. For a guy who works in a gym, he sure doesn’t eat that great.

“I’m not stalking. I’m investigating. Her name is Eleanor Grady. At least that’s the name she’s going by. I think she’s involved somehow with the disappearance of some teenage prostitutes.”