Shattered Glass(125)

Never had I been so grateful for Angelica’s fastidious wedding choices.

Peter was out cold by the time the elevator hit the lobby. We all rushed out when the doors opened. Another elevator opened, more paramedics sped by me. On the gurney was, unfortunately, a still-breathing Leila.

Officer Hutcherson and I jogged close behind. Digging into my pocket I fished out my wallet and gave him a business card. “You call me with news. Leave a message if I don’t answer. Do not leave him,” I repeated. We split up. He followed Peter out the regular doors, and I veered right, pushing through the revolving ones, running for my car.





Would Penis Bullets Hurt?

Darryl was sitting in the driver’s seat, phone against his ear. I tapped the glass, heard the door unlock and climbed in. Darryl’s jaw dropped when he saw me. My pocket rang again. His eyes flashed to my pants. “Where’s Peter? Where’s Cai? Whose blood is that? Why do you have Peter’s phone? Was that them with the ambulances?” I yanked the back of his pink hoodie as he tried to open the door.

“Drive. I’ll—”

“Drive? Drive? That’s your explanation? Peter would never give you his phone unless… Two people wheeled out of there, and you think I’m just going to leave without Peter and Cai? Where are they taking them?”

“I’d boot you out of this fucking car if I didn’t need you. Get in and drive. Stop arguing with me. Cai is on the run. We need to find him before they do. And by they, I mean the bad guys. And they have the advantage of the GPS on his ankle bracelet, whereas I just have you.” That shut him up. He took another look at the ambulance as it drove off. “Three blocks down make a right.”

He started the car. “That’s a one-way. You can’t turn right.”

My God I hated this area. “Get me to 16th and Market.” He threw the car into drive and pealed out. I winced and stroked the dashboard lovingly. “Drop me off and go park the car. Text Peter’s phone with where you are, and stand by the curb.” I started to pull everything from my pockets: wallet, a yellow bandana, the phones. Darryl glared at me between each stop light and pedestrian walkway.

“Whose blood is that?”

“If Cai calls you, tell him to keep moving.”

“Whose. Blood. Is—”

“And to get rid of the anklet however he can.”

He jerked to a stop. I braced against the dash, this time protecting myself from going through the windshield. “Two seconds to answer, or I will beat you until you do.”

“Peter’s. Don’t!” I jerked up the emergency brake before he could turn the car around. “You can’t do him any good pacing a hospital waiting room. He’s probably in surgery. I need you to help me find Cai.”

“Did you shoot him?”

“With what? The bullets in my penis?” I was shouting again. “Just get me to 16th and Market and do what I said.”

“We’re here already, dickwad!”

Oh.

I scrambled out.





Breathe and think—(Of 1001 Ways to Shut Darryl Up)

Besides distance, convenience, and a large bathroom where I could clean up, there was another reason I chose Jeffrey’s shop. It was isolated enough that if Luis was part of the conspiracy, the little tailor shop would be a perfect place to ambush me. My plan was to take some time in the bathroom and see if someone showed up. It wasn’t the most foolproof of experiments, but I wasn’t in a position to be picky. When an impatient Luis called after waiting a few minutes, I knew my gut instinct about him had been correct.

“You got blood on your neck,” Luis said as I filled the passenger seat of the unmarked car.

I flipped the visor and tilted my head, rubbing at the spot. “Thanks, dad. We’re picking up a third party.” I told him where to get Darryl. He handed me my badge and gun, then hung a U-turn. “We need to find the kid, “I said. “He has something they’re after.”

“Any idea what?”

“Whatever is in that safety deposit box.”

“Nope. Box contained only the clothes he was assaulted in.”

“They got into the box?”

“Nah, they used x-ray vision.”

I ignored his sarcasm. Angelica’s quash hearing hadn’t gone her way, apparently. That explained the sudden rush to get Cai. Whatever they needed was probably in the box. “He left the clothes there as a message,” I ventured.

Luis pursed his lips and leaned against his door, thumb tapping the steering wheel. “Makes sense. ‘I was here. I have what’s in the box.’ Regular dicks would assume he was keeping it as evidence. Anyone involved in the wrong end of the case would wonder what he may have taken from it. Now the why?” I pointed, and he pulled over. Darryl plopped in the back seat with a glare, crossing his arms.