The Warning Page 2

  No one answered him.

  The street was empty. In this area, after midnight, not many people were around.

  Halfway across the street, movement caught Jack’s eye.

  A tall girl, blonde hair flowing past her shoulders from under a red bandanna, stepped out from behind a tree.

  She lifted her arms. There was a gun in her hands.

  It all happened so fast.

  Her gun spewed a silenced bullet. The cold steel pressed against Jack’s neck pulled away. The man holding the gun fell and began grunting on the ground. He held his leg about the knee where blood gushed past his fingers.

  The girl moved fast. She was standing beside the second guy, gun held between his eyes and telling him to give her his weapons or he’d lose a knee too.

  Jack had stepped aside and was leaning against the van amazed at how efficient this girl was.

  She stowed the guy’s gun, kneed him in the groin and pistol-whipped him unconscious all in one fluid motion.

  Then she turned around to address Jack. “My name is Sarah Roberts. You’re safe for now, but you’re coming with me.”

  Chapter 4

  “Who are you?”

  Sarah pulled the car around a corner, drove to the back of a strip mall and parked behind a dumpster. All that time she kept one eye on her new passenger and her senses on full alert.

  When the car was in Park she drew her gun. Shadows covered her movements, making it hard for the man to see what she was doing until it was too late. The gun now rested behind his left ear.

  “You don’t get to ask any questions yet,” Sarah said.

  She held the gun firm, her eyes darting to the mirrors to make sure no one was watching. It was well after midnight. The area they were in appeared deserted.

  With fire in her gaze Sarah looked him in the eye. She saw what she thought was fear and intimidation. His head leaned against the passenger window. That was as far as it could go to escape the push of the gun on his skull.

  “Your name?”

  “Jack Tate. What is this?”

  Sarah jammed her hand forward. The gun pressed on his skin, digging into the side of his neck. “I said, you don’t ask questions.” Her teeth clenched when she spoke.

  He held his hands up. “Okay, okay.”

  “Who were those men?”

  Jack eased down a little as the gun pulled back. He motioned with his hands to his mouth, asking if he could talk. Sarah nodded.

  “I don’t know who they were.”

  Was he telling the truth? “I’m pissed. I hate having to shoot people. I had no choice here. There were two of them.”

  She saw Jack nod and look out the windshield.

  “That van in the street they were taking you to wasn’t their vehicle.”

  Jack looked back at her.

  “They broke the lock on the back doors. Their car was a few houses down. I watched the whole thing.”

  Jack motioned with his hands to talk again.

  “Keep it short. Keep it pertinent to the situation. Go ahead.” Sarah eased the gun back a little further. It was just touching Jack’s skin now, her hand steady as her arm rested on the back of the seat.

  “Why were they taking me to the van then?”

  “To kill you.”

  Jack looked away. “If that was the case and you know so much about what they were doing, why don’t you know who they are? For that matter, why don’t you know me? You stepped in and saved me.” He paused for a second and then added. “I’d like to know how you came by all this information. Are you in on it somehow and this is part of some intimidation shit?”

  “I was told to be there.”

  She saw the same reaction a hundred times. Bewilderment, disbelief, coupled with a look that said what a strange thing to say.

  “Who told you? And why?”

  “It seems we’ve passed the no questions phase rather quickly. Fine, I’ll give you an answer because it’s too long a story for right now. All I know is I’m looking for a murderer who got away about twenty years ago and somehow you’re connected to him. You’re either him or you know him. The message wasn’t completely accurate.”

  Jack sat back and shut his eyes.

  “Your response tells me you know something about what I just said.”

  She reapplied the pressure of her weapon onto his cheek.

  He opened his eyes and sat up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m sure whether you tell me or not, I’ll find out.”

  Jack lowered his head and fidgeted with his hands on his lap. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s that I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I was shot after I discovered who was raping and killing girls throughout the Midwest. All I know is the person was close to me and that was how I missed it. I was left for dead. It took years to regain enough memory to live on my own and function. I was a cop. I live on my pension now. I have horrible nightmares. They thought I was the one killing those girls.” He shook his head and looked away from Sarah. “I have scars from the bullet wound and the knife my assailant used.”

  “He stabbed you too?”

  “In the midsection here,” Jack said and pointed down below his belly button to where the shirt was ripped. “After I got shot in the head, I was coherent for a few minutes. Head wounds bleed like a son of a bitch. I was losing strength. The knife had cut a two inch slit at the base of my shirt when he stabbed me. I was able to rip the shirt off because of the knife wound since I couldn’t lift it over my bleeding head. I wrapped it around my head to staunch the blood flow before I passed out. It took almost three days for them to find me. I would’ve died if my shirt wasn’t on my head. That’s why there’s a rip here. It’s in honor of that time and in case I ever need to tear a shirt off fast. It’s also a reminder of a life changing experience.”

  “You seem to remember a lot for a guy who claims to have had amnesia,” Sarah said and scanned the parking lot for movement again. She looked back at him. “So, why is the shirt ripped on the girl found in the woods by your house?”

  “I have no idea. Wait a second, how do you know about that?”

  Ignoring his question, Sarah pressed on. “Why would two goons be sent to execute you?”

  “Nothing makes sense,” Jack said as if he was in a daze.

  Sarah set the safety on her gun and placed it in her lap between her thighs. She dropped the car into Drive and started moving again.

  “What are we going to do?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know yet. I’ll ask my sister. She’ll know.”

  “Who is your sister? Where is she?”

  “My sister’s name is Vivian and she’s dead.”

  Chapter 5

  Blake stood up while clutching his wounded crotch. Who the hell was that girl? She’d knocked him clean out. He touched the side of his head where blood had started to crust up. There will be hell to pay for this.

  At least he wasn’t the one who got shot. He walked over to Marco and touched his neck. He felt a slow and steady pulse. Blake took in Marco’s blood loss laid out on the cement. Not enough to kill him but he would need medical treatment soon in order to stay alive.

  Blake reached under Marco’s armpits and started dragging him towards Jack’s house. Within minutes he was inside the front foyer, feeling winded and out of breath. After setting Marco down he went to the kitchen, got a paring knife and trotted back to Marco.

  He bent to the carpet and without delay began jabbing the knife in and out of Marco’s inner thigh looking to sever the artery.

  Marco jumped and jerked convulsively as the blood flowed from the new wound.

  Blake tossed the knife away, and using his right hand, he plugged Marco’s nose and covered his mouth. In minutes, Marco was gone.

  The guest bathroom was a few feet to the right. Blake walked in, washed his hands, checked his wound and stepped back out into the foyer. He looked down at his friend.
They’d done a lot of jobs in the last year together. Too bad a girl got the jump on them.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed.

  “We missed the mark.”

  “How is that? Explain it to me.”

  “Marco fucked up. She came out of nowhere. We were going to the van on the street. We were keeping an eye out for her. She shot Marco, pistol whipped me and took Tate.”

  “This doesn’t make sense. How can a girl take out the both of you?”

  “Marco’s fault again. He had his gun jammed in Tate’s neck. Mine was holstered. Look, it won’t happen again. I dragged Marco off the street into Tate’s foyer.” Blake walked across the hall into the living room. He parted the drapes and looked out at the street. It amazed him that no one heard anything. Or if they did, cops were on their way. It must’ve been at least fifteen minutes since the girl showed up. Time to move.

  “What’s Marco doing now?”

  “Nothing. He’s dead. I used Tate’s kitchen knife to open an artery in his leg.”

  Blake listened to the breathing on the other end of the phone for half a minute.

  “Good. Someone had to pay for this. I want the girl dead. You got anything on her? Anything to help identify her?”

  “Nothing. It happened too fast. She had long blond hair and a red bandanna.”

  “A red bandanna?”

  Blake looked away from the curtains and started for the back door of the house. “Yeah, a bandanna. Why, is that important?”

  “That confirms her name is Sarah Roberts.”

  Chapter 6

  Sarah decided a motel would be best. She paid cash at the front desk and parked opposite the motel room door. She backed her little Kia up for an easy exit if it was needed.

  After getting inside, she handcuffed Jack to the bathroom sink so he could sleep in the bathtub with one arm dangling out. After much protest, she made him comfortable with blankets and a pillow, shut the bathroom door and lay out on the bed to think. She had to figure this out. She had to try to understand the messages. That was always the hard part.

  The television’s remote control sat on the night table beside her. She hit the power button and lowered the volume just enough to drown out Jack’s occasional plea from the bathroom. The motel’s courtesy paper and pen were her companions in bed as she searched the news channels for anything on the guy she shot tonight.

  A half hour later, Jack quiet and nothing on the news, Sarah began wondering why Jack was important. Why him? She thought she was going to meet her sister’s murderer tonight. Or will Jack lead her to him? She had no way of knowing. The message wasn’t that specific. It just said the street name, the house number and the man she was to meet. It also stated Vivian, which in the past meant that this person was connected to her dead sister in some way.

  Sitting alone, getting sleepy as the adrenaline wore off, she felt the familiar numbness of a blackout coming on. She welcomed it by grabbing the pen, laying back and closing her eyes.

  Seconds later, she sat up and looked at the pad. Six words: Tate knows more than he’s saying.

  Sarah jumped from the bed. She picked up her gun, checked that the safety was off and barged into the bathroom. Jack was curled up in the tub, awkward looking, but asleep.

  “What happened to you tonight?”

  Jack jerked in surprise, opened his eyes and lifted his head. “What’s that?”

  “What happened to you? Why were those men trying to kill you?” Sarah asked. She shut the toilet lid and sat, keeping the gun on her left, behind her thigh.

  “I have no idea,” Jack said.

  “You’ve got to do better than that.”

  “I mean it. I have no idea.” Jack told Sarah what happened earlier, starting with him walking his dog Champ, the body he found, the police response and finishing with the two guys waiting at his house.

  “Why did the police respond the way they did if you were just walking your dog and happened upon a body?”

  “I have no idea.”

  She felt he was lying. “Can you identify the girl you saw tonight?” She lifted the gun so it sat across her thighs.

  “Who are you? Where did you come from?” he asked as he turned to see her better.

  “You’re wasting time. We’ve already covered this. I need to know if you recognized the girl you found buried in the woods.”

  Jack shook his head. “No, I did not recognize her.”

  Sarah jumped up and left the bathroom in a rush. She had heard her name on the television. A news anchor was talking about the shooting and stabbing death in the home of Jack Tate. Police are now looking for Jack and another girl known to them as Sarah Roberts.

  “It’s unclear how Sarah Roberts is involved,” the anchor was saying, “An anonymous tip said that it was Sarah Roberts who shot the unidentified dead man.”

  Sarah ran back into the bathroom, undid the handcuffs and ushered Jack out.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “No time. We have to move. The police will be here soon. Nowhere is safe now because someone knows I have you and they know me. This is more fucked than I thought.”

  Chapter 7

  Two miles from the motel, Sarah grabbed her cell phone and dialed a familiar number. It was after 3:00am. She didn’t expect an answer.

  “Hello. Dolan here.”

  “That was fast. You must’ve been awake.”

  “I had a feeling I should stay up late tonight.”

  “Do you know how corny that sounds? Listen, Dolan, I need your help.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ll tell you when I see you. Can we meet somewhere?”

  “Sure, come to my house.”

  Sarah finished with Dolan and dropped her phone in the console. Up ahead she saw a deserted strip mall. She turned right, bounced over a speed bump and guided the car around to the back alley behind two dumpsters. She dropped the Kia into Park and turned to Jack. He’d been quiet since they left the motel. She guessed he was pretty tired with all that he’d gone through tonight.

  By this time, Sarah had assumed that the odds were Jack wasn’t her sister’s murderer. If he was, Vivian would have tried harder to warn her who she was traveling with. Yet he was important in some way. He was important enough to keep, at least until this mess was cleaned up.

  She smacked his arm to get his attention. “We have to get a few things clear.”

  Jack nodded. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m trying to find who killed my sister. I won’t stop until I do. Somehow you’re important. That’s why you’re staying. Call it kidnapping if you want, I don’t care. Besides, if I hadn’t shown up when I did, you’d be dead right now.”

  “I still don’t know how I can help.”

  “I don’t either, but you will. Now, we are going to see someone who may be able to help us or at least give us a direction to go in. He’s got a history of finding people and investigative work. In the meantime, don’t try anything stupid. This isn’t going to be like in the movies. I’m not going to hold a gun on you the whole time. But if you try to get away from me, you’ll regret it. I’m keeping you like a pet until this thing is over. Are we clear?”

  Jack nodded and stared out the dark windshield.

  “Good. The last four years have been hard. I’ve been through a lot: kidnapped, stabbed, shot at, and I’ve had to fight my way out of situations where I’d thought for sure I was done, so don’t fuck around. Be quiet and be cool and everything will work out.”

  Jack looked back at her. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. She could almost see confusion on his face, but it might have been something deeper; an understanding, a knowing. He looked away and spoke; his words chilled her more than a winter wind on bare skin.

  “I’ve seen a lot of dead girls in my time. I’ve also been shot,” he pointed at the scar on his head where the bullet had taken his memory. “I think I can help as I know how the cops think. At least a certain part of my analytical mind ca
me back over the years.” He looked in her eyes. “I used to be a cop. I was in Homicide. We investigated the kind of murderer you’re looking for. I might have even worked on your sister’s case. But I don’t know because I spent many years trying to learn how to live again. But somehow, Vivian Roberts rings a bell.”

  Chapter 8

  Officer Parkman set his coffee down without spilling it. Some days were better than others. Parkman was on his fourth coffee and his seventh toothpick. He knew chewing these little pieces of wood was going to kill him one day, but he just couldn’t stop.