“How can I when I don’t even know what I’d be giving up?” He used the most reasonable argument he had. “Tell me what’s behind the door and let me decide.”
She hesitated. “Fine. There’s a bar behind that door. Access is granted only to certain individuals. See? No story. Not even interesting.”
“A bar?” He didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “What would possibly be so secretive about a bar?”
“The clientele. It’s imperative that no one but certain...people are allowed in.”
He had to give it to her. Her story had enough intrigue in it to interest him. And he knew it had to be—whatever, if any, part of it was true—the tip of the iceberg.
“Well?” she prodded after he didn’t respond. “What do you think?”
Now he knew he had to play it cool. While he didn’t entirely buy her story, in the end she was the best and only lead he had. If he “hired” her, eventually she might slip up.
“If your rates are reasonable, I’ll definitely consider it,” he finally said, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.
This time, he hung up first.
Pretending not to notice the man who’d been parked in the expensive car across the street and watching his house, Jake limped down his sidewalk to get the mail. The sun had begun to set and the breeze carried the smell of the sea. Bruised and battered didn’t begin to describe how he felt today—more like he’d been run over by a large truck loaded with cement.
Late-model Mercedes, navy blue. Dark tinted windows, no plate on the front.
While he had no idea who his shadow might be, he figured it had something to do with that dead-end alleyway and the door that wouldn’t open for him.
Back inside the house, he glanced at the clock. If he planned to continue his surveillance, he’d need to head downtown soon. He’d taken great pains to ensure his point of entry into the abandoned warehouse would be hidden from any inquisitive eyes. And now he had no doubt they’d be looking.
He opened his laptop and checked his email. Finally, he really examined the message from Maddie detailing her company’s rates. While he had no idea if these prices were competitive or not, it wasn’t like he had another option. Maddie knew what went on behind that door. He just had to figure out a way to get her to tell him.
As dusk began to arrive, he knew if he wanted to leave his house, he’d need to shake his tail. If he got into his car and drove, the guy would certainly follow him. Normally he’d simply go out the back door, climb the fence that separated his yard from the guy behind him, and walk out onto the next street over. From there, it wasn’t too long a walk to reach a bus stop, or if necessary, he could call for a taxi. But his bruised and battered body simply wasn’t up to it yet.
Instead, he needed to get rid of the stalker. First, he called Maddie. But the call went straight to voice mail. Okay, he could understand that. It was after hours and he hadn’t yet become her client.
Next up, he dialed the Galveston Police Department’s nonemergency number. “I’d like to report a suspicious vehicle parked outside my house,” he said. “I was jumped and beaten up the other day and I think the same individual has come back to try to finish the job. Could you please send someone?”
The dispatcher rerouted him to 911. After he repeated his situation, he was told to stay inside the house and wait for the police to arrive. She asked him to stay on the line, so he did.
A moment later, a police cruiser turned onto his street and pulled up behind the parked Mercedes. The officer got out and walked up to the driver’s-side window. He stood there a few moments, clearly talking to the driver. Jake hoped he’d asked for a driver’s license and registration. If he at least had a name, he could do more research.
Finally, the policeman stepped back, lifted his hand in a friendly wave and watched as the luxury car drove off. One it had turned the corner, the officer walked up Jake’s sidewalk and rang the bell.
Ending the call with the dispatcher, Jake hurried to answer the door. “Thank you so much, Officer,” he began.
“You’re welcome. But I wanted to let you know, there was no reason for you to be concerned. That was the mayor’s son. He works for the City Planning and Zoning Department. He was parked on your street for business.”
Though his insides froze, Jack managed to nod. “Good to know. Thanks again for coming out, Officer.”
“No problem. I’m glad I could put your mind at ease.” The policeman peered at him. “They did a hell of a job on you, didn’t they? I hope you saw a doctor.”
“I did.”
“Good.”
Finally the patrolman left. Jake closed the door behind him and made sure he locked the dead bolt. The mayor’s son? Just how high up did this story go? If anything, this made him even more determined to get to the truth.
Moving as fast as he could, Jake hurried to his car. But before he even reached it, the navy Mercedes turned back onto his street and parked in the exact same spot.
Carmen hid her surprise when Rick took her to the pier. Once the shrimp boats came in, sometimes the men would get together and drink and play cards or dice. An occasional prostitute worked one corner. Mostly, both tourists and locals avoided this place. It was nothing like Pier 21 with its popular restaurants and fish markets, close to The Strand. It wasn’t even like Pier 19 or 20, with Sampson and Sons and Katie’s selling seafood right off the boat.
No, this was further down, past a few abandoned, dilapidated buildings with cracked sidewalks and weeds. An overall sense of decay permeated the place. Once, smugglers had hung out here, with illegal gambling and gin joints and a whorehouse or two. Now, most of that was only a memory, though Carmen had been here once or twice during its heyday.
These days, this was where men went when they wanted to do things in secret, where the dim lighting and sense of anonymity made them feel at ease. It was an area she sometimes frequented when the craving for fresh, warm blood grew too strong. She’d become quite a pro at extracting just enough to make her target pass out, but without serious harm.
“Here.” Rick’s gravelly voice brought her back to the present. “In a moment, there’s going to be an explosion. It will bring the rats scurrying from their holes.”
She swung around and stared. “Why?”
“It’s something I promised to do, as a sign of good faith. There’s an illegal shipment of guns in one of these buildings. The Sons of Darkness needed a distraction so they could get them out. This will be a big one.” He got out his phone and prepared to punch in a number. “Are you ready?”
“Sure.” This got more interesting by the minute.
“Here we go.” He dialed a number. A second later, a loud boom sounded and the ground shook. Someone screamed and someone else swore. Several people staggered toward them, some of them drunk, others in shock.
“I’m calling 911,” Rick told them, holding up his phone. She watched, wondering if he really would since he didn’t appear to be in any hurry to punch in the numbers. Maximizing time for the distraction, she guessed.
Someone else must have called, though, because sirens sounded in the distance, getting closer. The occasional straggler came down the sidewalk, one or two of them appearing shell shocked. Thick black smoke billowed from somewhere behind