James Grippando - When Darkness Falls

A look of concern came over the Bushman. “She must be back.”

“Who must be back?”

“That woman I was telling you about. I thought she was just another one of Miami’s homeless. But Falcon explained to me, mon. She’s not one of us. She’s one of them.”

“One of them?”

“Yeah, mon. They keep coming back, you know? You can’t be nice to them. You can’t take them at their word. They just never stop.”

“Never stop what?”

“Stop looking. For the house.”

“What house?”

He checked over his shoulder, as if to see if anyone was listening. Then he whispered, “La casa de la bruja.”

“The witch’s house?” said Alicia. Jack, too, had been able to translate it, but she was a tad quicker.

The Bushman winced. “Not so loud, lady. They’ll hear us.”

Jack said, “Who lives in the witch’s house?”

“Nobody lives there. It’s just where they go.”

“Where who goes?”

“You know, who we talked about before. The Disappeared.”

Time was precious, and Jack feared that the Bushman might be wasting too much of it. But with the mention of the Disappeared, Jack had to take a shot. “Bushman, if I told you that Falcon sent me on an errand, and that when I got there I found a note that asks in Spanish, ‘Where are the Disappeared?’-would you be able to answer that question?”

“Of course I would. La casa de la bruja. Don’t you understand nothing I’m saying to you, mon?”

“No,” Jack said, shaking his head slowly. “I wish I did, but I honestly don’t have time to sort this crap out. We need the necklace.”

“It’s mine now.”

“Falcon wants it back.”

“Too bad. He gave it to me.”

“What do you want for it?”

“It’s not for sale.”

“There must be something you want.”

The Bushman considered it. Then he looked at Alicia and smiled. “I want to see her tits.”

“No problem,” said Alicia.

“Really?” said the Bushman.

“Yeah, really.” She reached inside her jacket and pulled out her badge. “How’s that for a rack?”

The Bushman swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Now give us the damn necklace,” she said.

T heo watched with concern as Natalia tended to her girlfriend’s wounded leg. She was still in the bathtub, and Natalia was kneeling beside her on the bloody tile floor. Theo and the other male hostage were seated in the dressing area just outside the bathroom, facing the open bathroom doorway, their backs against the wall and their hands and feet bound tightly. Falcon paced nervously from one end of the room to the other. He was sweating but refused to remove his coat. Theo was perspiring, too, as the room seemed to grow warmer with each passing minute. The lack of any ventilation gave the air a heavy, stale quality, as if they were drawing the same breath over and over again.

As best Theo could recall, this had all begun with a woman’s scream. Theo had burst into the room, and Falcon had fired a single gunshot. The errant bullet had apparently passed right through the bathroom wall and hit Natalia’s girlfriend in the thigh.

“How is she?” said Theo.

“Shut up!” said Falcon. He was still pacing, mumbling, as if struggling to formulate a coherent sentence. It seemed to frustrate him to no end that he was incapable of improving upon Theo’s words. “How is she?” he said.

“The bullet tore through the skin and took a little piece of her thigh with it,” said Natalia. “But the bleeding has stopped.”

“Good,” said Falcon. “No more bleeding. That’s real good.”

“It’s good only if her heart’s still beating,” said Theo.

“Shut up, you!” shouted Falcon. Then he looked at Natalia and said, “It’s still beating, right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “She’ll have a nasty scar when this thing heals, but it looks like she’s going to be okay.”

Theo winced at the response. Natalia was too far away to hear his whisper, so he waited until Falcon paced to the far end of the room, and then he spoke through his teeth. “Tell him that your friend needs a doctor.”

Falcon wheeled and said, “I heard that! I won’t have any phony emergencies around here. You hear me?”

“This isn’t phony,” said Theo. “Look at her. She’s barely conscious.”

“I decide who needs a doctor. That’s my call. I’m in control here. Understand?”

Theo worried about pushing too hard, but he didn’t want to let this drop. “Look, dude, you got three other hostages. Let this one go, okay? We’re talking about a gunshot wound from a pretty mean pistol you’re packing there. The bleeding may have stopped, but she’s a bloody mess already. She could go into shock, and you don’t need that kind of hassle.”

Falcon’s expression tightened. He seemed to be considering it.

Theo said, “You need to get her outta here.”

“I know, I know! Everybody just shut up!”

Theo said, “Be smart, dude. Cut a deal. Give up the girl, but get somethin’ in return. Maybe this is the bargaining chip you need to get that necklace you talked about.”

Falcon clearly liked the idea of negotiating, but he seemed less than keen on giving up a hostage. He dug the cell phone out of his pocket and gripped it tightly.

“That’s it,” said Theo, egging him on. “Make ’em start talking.”

“Swyteck,” Falcon said, barking into Theo’s cell phone. “Where’s my damn money? And where’s my necklace?” His face reddened with anger, as if he didn’t like the response. “Don’t give me any more excuses. I want my money and my necklace. You got five minutes. If my shit ain’t here by then, I shoot the black guy. You hear me? I’m gonna take out my gun, and I’m shooting your smart-mouthed friend right in the head!”

He muttered something under his breath and shoved the phone back into his pocket. Theo shot him a knowing expression, fully conveying that Falcon hadn’t fooled him.

Falcon said, “What are you looking at?”

“You didn’t open the flip phone,” said Theo. “You can’t make a call if you don’t open the flip.”

Falcon smiled, as if suddenly this were all just a big joke. “Didn’t open the flip phone. That’s some really bad news for you, isn’t it?”

“I’m not followin’ you, dude.”

Falcon stepped closer, speaking in a low, threatening voice. “Your friend Swyteck has a five-minute deadline,” he said as he aimed his pistol at Theo’s forehead. “And he doesn’t even know it.”

T he command center was starting to smell like bad coffee. People came and went, but their coffee cups remained behind. Did anyone ever actually dispose of disposable coffee cups? Jack counted thirteen half-empty ones lying around. Theo would have counted thirteen half-full ones, even with a maniac holding a gun to his head and a sleep-deprived lawyer about to negotiate for his release. They were just wired differently, or at least they held fundamentally different perceptions of Jack’s abilities. To Theo, Jack was a miracle worker, the tenacious young lawyer who had gotten him off death row. To Jack, Theo was the figurative sponge that had already soaked up Jack’s lifetime allocation of luck-and then some.

“Try not to use the word ‘no,’” Sergeant Paulo said to Jack. “No matter what Falcon says, no matter what he asks for, just don’t slam any doors in his face.”

The Bushman’s request for a peep show suddenly popped into Jack’s mind. “What if he asks to talk to Alicia?” said Jack.

“That’s a good example,” said Paulo. “Tell him that you’ll have to check on that. You’ll look into it. Make no promises, but don’t shut him down. You’re in the perfect position, because there really isn’t anything that you can give him without getting approval from the police, the mayor, Alicia, or whoever.”