Heat Page 30
I know the area around Moon’s home. I end up parked two streets over and hike until I find a place to sit and watch. The sun beats down on me and I do my best to conserve the water. I don’t know if Moon is home. If he is, I’m following him. If not, I’ll stay in a hotel and come back tomorrow.
The sun finally begins setting and a spectacular array of light washes across the horizon. Arizona sunsets are to die for. I smile at the thought. Following Moon could get me killed. It’s the whole sick cop humor thing. I’ll appreciate this sunset like it’s my last.
About an hour later, one of the Cadillacs pulls out. I have no idea if Moon’s in it and that doesn’t matter. I know my plan could take a few days before it pays off. I stand up from where I’ve been crouching and focus the binoculars on the Caddy. The windows are tinted but I can just make out a head in the back seat, so I’m thinking I hit pay dirt. I take off running for the rental car. He’ll be about five minutes ahead of me and only luck will let me catch up with him because I only know at this point that he’s headed west.
I can barely catch my breath by the time I reach the car. I grab a warm—I take that back, hot, water bottle and down it as I pull away from the curb and head west. Besides safety, I need speed. I get some luck with the first few lights. Then, at the third, I’m stuck on red for several minutes, which feels like hours. If Moon jumps on the freeway, it’s over… for now. When the light turns green, I head to the next corner and turn left on a crap shoot chance that the Caddy went this way. As an officer, I was never in the loop about Moon’s criminal activities—too far down on the totem pole, and I don’t know where his operations are run. I’m taking a chance by heading south as I begin crisscrossing streets. Tomorrow, I’ll head north.
Then, I see the Caddy. I pump my hand up like a fool, but I can’t believe I got this lucky. If anyone had the misfortune to be following me, they’d think I was insane with my erratic turns through the streets and now my celebration. I stay back as the Caddy heads into the warehouse district off 7th Street and Lincoln. The brake lights come on and I drive past as the vehicle enters slowly through a gate. I don’t look at the car, and after I drive past, I leave the area, checking behind me to see if they decide to follow. When I’m sure no one is behind me, I circle back around to 7th Avenue onto Roosevelt and enter the warehouse district again. This time, I park around the corner two blocks over and behind a dumpster.
In order to get to the warehouse where Moon’s Caddy pulled in, I end up climbing three chain-link fences. My shoulder has no trouble letting me know it’s not happy. Fence climbing is police officer 101 training at the academy. I aced the six foot chain-link and solid wall without a problem. When I worked patrol, I also learned that jumping fences comes in handy more times than you expect.
It’s dark and I move slowly to remain quiet. There’s a man standing guard at the front entrance to the warehouse. Both Cadillacs are parked in front too. I circle around to the back and hear voices coming from inside. I can’t make out more than a few words and from what I hear, they sound angry. It’s the cry of pain that propels me to search for a way to enter the building. I carefully check the back door, which I find is locked. There are two dumpsters beside the building and a few small windows about twelve feet up. I have no idea if I can reach the window. When I hear a grunt from inside, I try harder.
The dumpster has a rail halfway up the side that makes it easy to climb onto the top. I’m as quiet as I can be, but I swear my breathing alone is loud enough to give me away. After I’m in position, I lift my arms, bend my elbows, and raise my chin above the ledge. I’m standing on my tiptoes and still can’t see in. I pull up slightly and the burn in my shoulder is excruciating.
I adjust myself until the underside of my arms and armpits hold my weight and take some pressure off my shoulder. I can barely see through the dirty window. It’s enough, though.
Fuck me.
Harry Dandridge is tied to a chair, and Gomez is punching his face and stomach. It’s surreal. Something you would see in a movie. To make it worse, a plastic painter’s tarp is spread beneath the chair and it’s spattered with blood. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The brutality of Gomez’s fists makes my stomach clench. I can’t hear flesh strike flesh, but my body feels it. Blood flies. Gomez stops the assault and Moon jerks Harry’s head up by his hair. Moon’s lips move and I think Harry’s do too. I can’t believe Harry is actually conscious. Moon leans down and I realize he’s listening to what Harry is telling him. Maybe Harry will give them what they want and this will stop.
Moon releases Harry’s hair and Harry’s chin drops to his chest. I’m completely unprepared when Moon lifts a gun and fires a single shot into Harry’s head. That, I do hear. It’s so unexpected that I gasp and fall back onto the dumpster. I can’t catch my balance, but my training kicks in. I roll. My slide from the dumpster is slightly less disastrous than if I fell straight down. I’m up and running for the fence without checking for the guard. There’s no way he didn’t hear me. The air parts inches from my cheek and I know a bullet just missed me. I charge the next warehouse, cut through the shadows, and sprint for the fence. I’m running on autopilot still unable to process what I witnessed. I have one more fence to climb to make it to the rental car. Vehicle headlights spotlight where I planned to climb.
I hear Gomez. “Go around the other way,” he tells someone.
I suck in a breath and hold it while listening for footsteps heading my way. I have my gun out and I’m mentally preparing myself to shoot Gomez. A few minutes later, I look around and spot a drainage pipe in the back corner of the parking area. I slowly breathe in and out and then hold my breath again so I can listen. No sound and I know it’s my only chance. I dash to the pipe, duck, and run in.
It’s dry, about a quarter filled with dirt, and creepy as hell. I see cobwebs at the other end, and I shiver. I wish I could run through them, but I need to be as quiet as possible. I can’t wait here. I walk through the webs slowly and wipe my bare arms as the silky strands slide across my flesh. Spiders are the least of my worries right now, but fuck, I hate them.
There’s an arroyo on the other side of the pipe, and I walk along the bottom heading away from the rental car. I have no way to know if they’ve discovered the car. I climb out about two hundred yards south and go over another fence. I find a place to hide between an extremely smelly dumpster and the side of another warehouse.
I want to scream in horror, but all I can do is sit huddled in silence, squeezed in a tight crevice. Slowly, as the adrenaline wears off, all my new scrapes and bruises make themselves known. So do my emotions. It’s hard to settle on a single one, so, as self-preservation, I decide on angry.
I knew all along who Moon was and I fucked him anyway.
Chapter Twenty-Eight