Stalked: The Boy Who Said No (36 page)

Good,
thought Damian.
Maybe Mederos will finally give me a reason to shoot him. Then I can return to base with some peace of mind.

Damian, Elias, and Sebastian tailed Frank until he turned into the Willowbrook Mall. They pulled in to a nearby parking space, got out of the car, and followed him at a distance as he entered the mall. It had been a lovely day, bright and sunny. Frank was thirsty so he stopped for a drink from a water fountain. His shoelace came undone, and he leaned over to tie it.

Frank did a little window-shopping before he entered an Italian restaurant that he and Chris frequented. It was Friday night and the place was mobbed. He stood in line and ordered a large pizza with mushrooms and extra oregano. He paid the tab and brought the pizza to a table dressed in a red-checkered cloth.

Chris appeared at the door, a bright smile lighting her face. She wore a fall sweater embroidered with acorns and carried several packages, which she placed on an empty chair. Breathless, she released her hair from a ponytail and took a seat.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said and held up her fingernails for Frank to see. “I tried a new nail salon, and they took longer than I expected.”

“No problem. Your manicure looks great. I ordered us some pizza.”

Frank separated the slices with a knife so they’d be easier to lift and placed one on Chris’s plate. He wound the dripping cheese around his finger and sucked it off. Suddenly, he got a chill. He turned his head to the left and looked over his shoulder.

Chris tilted her head in Frank’s direction. “What’s the matter, honey?”

Frank attempted a feeble smile. “Nothing. How was work?”

“The usual,” said Chris with a shrug. “I’m just glad the week is over.”

Frank nodded as the muscles in his neck grew tense and the hairs on his arms stood on end. Turning, he thought he saw a figure duck behind a wall, but he wasn’t sure.

Chris looked concerned. “You seem jumpy. Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

Frank faced her. “I’m fine. Sometimes I just get these feelings—”

He bit off the end of his pizza and swallowed. The mushrooms were fresh, and the cheese was warm and gooey. It tasted great. He sipped his Coke while looking over the top of his glass. His eyes darted from side to side.

“What?” asked Chris, alarmed.

Frank threw his napkin on the table. “Something’s wrong,” he said. He stood and walked to the front of the restaurant. He looked out, scanning the interior of the mall. Seeing nothing, he went back to the table and sipped more Coke.

Damian watched Frank from the mall’s second-story balcony. He turned to Sebastian and nodded. “The target knows we’re here. He knows we’re watching him.”

“You’re crazy,” said Sebastian. “He doesn’t know. How could he?”

“You’re wrong,” said Damian.

Sebastian looked at Frank again. “How can you tell?”

“He’s a member of the Special Forces. He was part of
my
army. He’s one of the best. He’s been trained to sense stuff like this. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

“What are you saying?”

“What do you think I’m saying? I’m saying Mederos can sense us, damn it. He knows he’s under surveillance.”

“What do you want to do?”

“You and Elias get outta here,” said Damian. “Wait for me in the parking lot. I need to make a quick stop. I’ll meet you back at the car.”

Frank looked at Chris. She was finishing the last of her pizza, chomping on the hard crust. “I’m sorry, but I need a little space,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Frank got up and walked to the bathroom. He used the toilet and went to the sink to wash up. He leaned over, inhaled, and stared at himself in the mirror.
What the hell is wrong with you? It’s been a while since you’ve felt this way. You thought you’d put your fears behind you. But something’s got you rattled.

Frank rinsed his hands, shook them, and reached for a paper towel. He crumpled it and tossed it into the trashcan. As he turned to leave, a young man stepped through the doorway. The two men jostled for position, determining who should go first.

Then Frank looked up. Neither man smiled. Frank stared at a handsome man with intelligent eyes and dark hair. He looked to be about nineteen. Frank recognized something of himself in him. He noted the posture, the affect. The young man wore civilian clothes, but he had a military haircut, one a little different from the American cut. Frank knew he wasn’t from New Jersey.

Frank locked the man’s image in his brain.

The following Wednesday night Frank was closing up shop, putting things away, cleaning the windows, and sweeping the floor. It was unusually warm for late September.

His friend, Gary—a local cop—stopped by for a cup of coffee before he went off duty for the night. Talkative, middle-aged, and overweight, he was not the picture-perfect cop. His bulbous nose, ruddy complexion and bushy eyebrows lent him a comic look. He sported age spots on his forehead, and he would soon have little use for a comb.

A regular customer, Gary constantly groused about his life as a police officer. He complained that the department was riddled with corruption, and the work was so stressful it was ruining his marriage.

After months of conversations, he and Frank came to an unspoken agreement: Frank would give Gary free coffee, and Gary would drive around Frank’s restaurant a couple of extra times a day to make sure everything was okay. Frank thought he was getting the better part of the bargain.

Gary hopped on a stool and ordered a cup of coffee. He took it with cream, no sugar. Frank set the coffee on the counter along with a glazed donut he was about to discard. Elton John’s song, “Mama Can’t Buy You Love,” played on the radio. The police officer stirred some cream into his coffee while Frank tidied up the refrigerator.

Gary set down his cup, looked up at Frank, and asked, “How’d you get to own this restaurant?”

Frank laughed. “I worked my ass off.”

“Do you make much money?”

“It pays the bills.”

“I was thinking it might be a good way for me to make a living, but I guess I’d need a hefty down payment.”

Frank nodded. “You’d have to get some cash together.”

“I don’t have much in the way of savings.”

“Is there anyone who could loan you some money?”

“Just my father-in-law—he’s loaded.”

“Talk to him. Tell him you’ll pay him back with interest once you get your place going. That’s how it’s usually done.”

“I’ll think it over. Maybe I’ll give him a call.”

The next night’s business was especially brisk, and it took Frank longer than usual to close up. Having been on his feet all day, he was tired and eager to get home to Chris and Darlene.

Chris had moved in with him a few weeks before. Although she was only nineteen, she was wonderful with his daughter, taking her clothes shopping and to the movies. The two of them baked cookies together while discussing television shows, hairstyles, and friends. Frank loved to watch them interact.

One night when the couple was out to dinner, Frank told Chris he had fallen in love with her. His feelings had developed slowly and, even now, they surprised him. Every time he talked with Chris he felt more at ease, more comfortable, more connected. He found himself thinking about her during the day, longing to touch her, and to be with her. As he did, the pain over Magda’s death began to subside. He knew it would never disappear entirely, but he hoped it would become less pronounced someday. When Frank was with Chris, his heartache became manageable, and his loneliness disappeared.

Frank shifted a couple of packages to his left arm as he locked up the store and pocketed the key. The streets were deserted save for a couple of cars and a black cat that lurked behind a telephone pole. It meowed softly. Its eyes glowed eerily in the dark.

Frank walked toward his car, which was parked in a small public lot. His was the last car left. Clouds kissed a sliver of moon. Across
the street a television blared a talk show. A dog barked from a second-floor window.

As Frank opened the car’s back door to deposit his belongings, a vehicle approached. Black and nondescript, it was traveling well below the speed limit. The situation gave Frank pause. He strained his eyes to identify the occupants, but their faces were hidden in shadow.

Inside the car Sebastian turned to Damian. “It’s time,” he said. “It’s dark, the street’s deserted, and Mederos has his arms full. Let’s take him out
now
while we have the chance.”

“Shouldn’t we clear it with José?” asked Damian.

“The hell with José,” said Sebastian. “He doesn’t know any more about how to do things that we do. You’re a lieutenant. He’s no smarter than you.”

“Give me a minute to think about it,” said Damian.

“C’mon. These opportunities don’t come along often. I say strike now and explain later.”

Damian heaved a sigh and shifted in his seat.
Sebastian might have a point,
he thought.
I’m tired of being harassed for my lack of action. I’m tired of dealing with this joker sitting next to me. And I’m tired of José bossing me around. At least this way, we can get the operation over.

Damian considered the upside of taking the target out then and there. An image of Pino congratulating him on his success flashed through his mind, making him smile.
I’ll get my own apartment and jeep. That will make it all worthwhile. This might not be the perfect place to finalize the mission, but it’s probably as good an opportunity as any.

“I guess you’re right,” said Damian wearily.

“Good,” said Sebastian. “I’m pulling over.”

Frank saw a dark car park adjacent to the sidewalk, and watched two men get out. They pulled something from their pockets and kept their arms tight at their sides. Frank feared they were armed. They nodded to each other and took opposite sides of the street.

Frank couldn’t see the men’s faces, but he watched their movements,
his muscles on high alert. He noted that one man carried himself as if he had military training, while the other did not. His fingers ached for the trigger of a gun. But he didn’t have one with him.

As Frank watched Sebastian and Damian, the doors of a second car opened. It was parked not far from Frank’s vehicle. Frank hadn’t noticed it was occupied. Curro and Javier emerged, looking tense and determined. They stood tall and scoured the area with hard eyes. They glanced at Frank, but did not make a move. Experienced in guerrilla warfare, they knew when to strike.

Frank closed his back car door and opened the one to the driver’s side. As he did, Gary’s police car swung out from a side street. When he saw Frank, he applied his brakes and pulled his vehicle alongside Frank’s. He turned on his flashers. Red and blue lights bubbled away the darkness. Frank looked over his shoulder. The four men had returned to their respective vehicles. Both cars drove off. Frank shook his head.

Gary rolled down his window and hollered. “Hey, Frank, I want to tell you something.”

“Something’s fishy,” interrupted Frank.

“Whaddaya mean?”

“I’m not sure. Just now. Did you see those guys?

Gary looked around. “What guys?”

“They’re gone now.”

“Sorry, I didn’t see a thing.”

“Well, keep an eye out, would you?”

“Sure.”

“By the way, what did you want?”

“I talked to my father-in-law.”

“What did he say?”

“He seems interested. Said he’ll think about lending me some cash. We’re going to talk again next week.”

“Good.”

“I’m pretty excited about it. It’ll give me a chance to get out of this racket—too many ways to get killed in this line of work.”

“You’re right about that. Keep me posted.”

“I will.” Gary held Frank’s eyes for a moment longer than necessary. “Are you okay?”

Frank glanced around. Everything seemed normal. He closed his eyes briefly, wondering why goose bumps dotted his arms.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“See you tomorrow, then.”

Frank raised his chin in a farewell gesture. Gary nodded and turned off his flashers while Frank switched on the ignition.

Frank drove home feeling his skin was too tight for his scalp. His stomach was knotted like a skein of yarn. He knew Darlene’s aunt, uncle, and grandparents would care for her if anything should happen to him. But that was out of the question. The child had been through too much already, and Frank was determined for her not to undergo another loss.

Frank’s thoughts turned to Chris. He wondered how his in-laws would react if he married her. Based on Spanish tradition, he expected them to object. It was much too soon for him to remarry. Tradition was tradition, difficult to fight. He had been brought up with Spanish traditions himself. He knew how easily they could rule your life.

But his heart told him it was right to marry Chris.

Frank pulled into his driveway, turned off the motor, and rested his head against the back of the seat. He stared at the car’s roof liner. He needed time to think. The past year had been difficult on Darlene. Frank and Magda’s family had done their best to help the child through her grief while dealing with their own. It was a big job.