“I’m sorry, Ben,” I barked the words. “But I still don’t know who she is. Now, would you please quit trying to make me feel stupid, and just clue me in?”
“Jeezus, Rowan,” he blurted, still shaking his head. “That was Brittany Larson.”
I looked back at him, stunned as the name sunk in, and my brain made the connection. “You mean…”
“Yeah, I mean Brittany freakin’ Larson,” he replied. “The goddammed mayor’s daughter.”
CHAPTER 6:
Ben was busy going over the turn of events with some other detectives when Lieutenant Barbara Albright arrived. She strode purposefully out of the elevator, headed straight for the door of the enclosure and whipped the door open with a swift yank.
Her low-heeled pumps were clacking out a determined cadence across the concrete decking of the parking lot as she started for the opposite end of the structure. I almost wish I’d had a camera on hand to catch the look on her face when she glanced to the side and saw me sitting on the stairs.
She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at me as her lips drew into a thin frown. After a brief pause, she unbuttoned her jacket and marched toward the stairs, coming to a halt in front of me and placing her hands on her hips.
“Would you mind explaining just exactly what it is that you are doing here, Gant?” She spat the words more as a demand than as a simple question.
She was slight but still altogether imposing just given her attitude. Her appearance placed her somewhere in her mid fifties even with her shoulder length hair having turned prematurely white. She was dressed in a dark grey pantsuit that looked like it came from an upscale department store. Felicity probably could have taken one look and spouted off the name of the designer, but as for me, well, all I knew was that it looked like money was involved.
Her hands, strategically placed to reveal more than just a glimpse of her sidearm, now pushed back the folds of the double-breasted jacket. I’m sure it was an intimidation tactic, probably something learned by all cops, but I had been around this sort of thing far too much. The sight of a gun on someone’s hip was old hat to me.
As in my past dealings with her, she was coming across as the mother that every kid on the block was afraid of, and she wasn’t planning to do anything to change that opinion. If nothing else, I would say that she was trying to bolster it.
As usual, the gold cross was suspended from a chain around her neck, obvious against the white background provided by her blouse. The breast pocket of her jacket held her badge case, shield flipped outward and prominently on display.
“It’s really a simple matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Lieutenant,” I answered with forced civility as I rose to my feet.
I was mutely beating back my desire to launch into a string of unpleasantries aimed directly at her. I knew such an act would bring me nothing but trouble, but I was having a hard time explaining that to my subconscious mind.
“Oh, I’m sure that it is,” she remarked sarcastically. “Go on. Tell me.”
“Lunch,” I replied.
“Lunch?” she repeated.
“Yes,” I returned, pointing over her shoulder at a group of officers near the actual scene of the abduction; in particular, at Ben’s back. “Feel free to ask Detective Storm over there. We were going to lunch and just happened to be waiting for the elevator when it all happened.”
“Storm is here, too?” she barked, turning to look in the direction I indicated.
“Yes, as a matter of fact…”
Her hand came up to cut me off as she spoke, “You wait right here.”
“Sure,” I answered. “I’ve got no place else to be.”
I don’t know if she heard me or not because she was already stalking away toward Ben. While I couldn’t see her face, I had the distinct impression she was no happier to see him than she had been me.
“That was pleasant,” Ben muttered the sarcastic remark as he cranked the steering wheel of his van and backed it out of the parking space.
I didn’t wait for the follow-up I knew he was going to utter, “Don’t say ‘like a root canal’, Ben.”
“How’d you know I was gonna say that?”
“Experience,” I replied.
“Hmmph,” he grunted. “So what’d she say to you?”
“She demanded to know why I was here, so I referred her to you.”
“Thanks a lot,” he told me with no sincerity whatsoever.
“What about you?” I asked. “From where I was, it looked like she was having a meltdown.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” he answered. “She was just her normal pissy self up ‘til she found out I discharged a coupl’a rounds into the vehicle. That’s when she lost it.”
“What did she expect you to do?”
“Hell, I dunno.” He shrugged then cranked the steering wheel to guide us into the downward exit spiral. “Throw myself in front of the fuckin’ car I guess.”
“You pretty much did,” I observed.
“Yeah, well I guess I didn’t get run over enough for her liking.”
It was just before 2:30 in the afternoon, and the scene had officially been cleared. Skid marks had been measured, paint scrapings had been taken, and photographs snapped from every imaginable angle. None of it seemed to me like it would do any good, but there were procedures to be followed, and my opinion of them amounted to very little- in fact, nothing.
“So what happens now?” I asked.
“You’re in for a treat,” he returned. “We get to go back to headquarters and tell our stories to some more coppers.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
The syncopated tone of a cell phone began its rising chirp. I didn’t recognize the tone, so I knew it wasn’t mine. Ben reached to his side and fumbled the warbling device from his belt, swallowing it in his large hand.
“Storm,” he huffed when he got it up to his ear.
As if the mood in the vehicle needed any further darkening, I felt it grow just that much colder in that very instant. A swirling turmoil of pain, anger, and confusion was emanating from my friend, and as I watched him listening to the cell, I saw his shoulders physically droop.
“I know, I know,” he finally said. “But have you noticed the news?”
He fell silent for a moment, and his tumultuous emotions became even more tangible.
“Listen, I can’t do this right now…” he said into the phone, voice rising slightly. “No… No, I’m not… Look, we’ll have to talk about this later… I can’t…”
He stopped mid-sentence, pulled the device away from his ear and regarded it with an angered glance. He stabbed the off button with his thumb then threw it into the console between us as he muttered, “Shit.”
We had just rounded the last turn of the spiral and now sped down the exit ramp, finally coming to a halt at the booth. Ben flashed his badge, and the attendant nodded as he waved us through.
Remnants of the splintered black-and-white-striped barrier gate were piled off to the side of the concrete island. The metal portion of the lift arm protruded as a twisted stub from the mechanism rendering it totally useless, all of it the visual evidence of the kidnapper’s hasty exit.
My friend edged the van forward and after a quick glance in either direction, pulled into the afternoon traffic. I had always made a rule of staying out of Ben’s business. If there were something going on in his life he wanted you to know about, he would tell you in his own due time. Asking him before he was ready only served to drive him away and make him bury the subject even deeper.
However, in extreme cases I was known to break my own rules, and this was one of them. I watched him in silence as we navigated the traffic to the corner and then stopped and waited for the traffic signal to turn.
“You okay?” I finally asked.