Roll for initiative, p.12
Roll for Initiative, page 12
part #1 of Bailey Knight Mystery Series
“That was my call.” A man approaches, wearing a bulletproof vest over his button shirt. “And your friend asked us to wait. He wanted to help as much as he could.”
“And what if they killed him?” I shake my head at this man, whoever he is.
“We wouldn’t have let that happen, ma’am.”
“You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“We got the confession of someone deeply connected in the organized crime group terrorizing Tampa,” he says. “Your friend was a huge help. So were you.”
“And I hope that helps you sleep tonight while my friend is in the hospital.”
“Bailey—” Link groans.
“Don’t you talk to me either, Link. How dare you become a martyr over this?”
One of the EMTs takes my arms and begins cleaning the bands of rope burn around my wrists. “You’ll be OK in a few days, but this will be uncomfortable. It could’ve been worse.”
The man continues speaking as the EMT wraps my wrists with bandaging. “He was a great help to us tonight. We haven’t been this close to Fisher in a long time, and now we have a murder confession out of him.”
Yes, that’s true. Lorie O’Neal. That was something.
“Detective Darren Stone,” Meeks says, “I’d like you to meet Bailey Knight.”
“Miss Knight.” He extends a hand to me. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Callum.”
“He’s mentioned you, too.”
“I’m sorry that this has happened to you, Miss Knight,” Detective Stone says. “And I appreciate your concern for your friend. What he did was very brave.”
“Yeah.” I look over at Link as the EMTs get him set up on the stretcher. “And pretty stupid.”
The EMTs start wheeling Link out.
“I’ll drive you,” Meeks says, pulling his car keys out of his pocket.
“Thanks.” And I follow him out, the cool air of the night touching my skin with a lingering chill.
22
Meeks is kind enough to drive me to the hospital behind Link’s ambulance. He’s also kind enough to sit quietly as I call Callum.
“Oh, my God, Bailey.” The tension in his voice reminds me of the fear, of the smell of chloroform. This all could have ended very differently.
But his voice is overwhelmed by another. My mom’s. “Bailey! Oh, honey, are you all right? Where are you now?”
“Still in Tampa, on my way to a hospital by the hotel. Are you with Callum?”
“Yeah, he called us as soon as he sent Meeks to find you. Well, Meeks made him call us to make sure he didn’t leave the hospital. He started pulling his stitches.”
“I’m OK. Meeks stormed in and saved the day.”
“I’ve already seen on the news that Aaron Hill’s been arrested. That awful man, taking advantage of you both like that. Using your friends and family against you. And to think he was your vice principal.”
“Link wore a wire. He’s pretty beat up, but he’s going to be OK.”
“This is a nightmare. I’m so glad the two of you are all right.”
“Me, too, Mom.”
“I’m going to hand the phone back to Callum now. I love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
I hear the phone shift hands before Callum says, “Your mom wasn’t kidding about me requiring babysitters. The nurse had to reinsert my IV.”
“She said you started to tear your stitches.”
“Only a little. Nothing too serious.”
“Goodness, Callum.”
“Just come back as soon as you can.”
“I will. We’re following Link’s ambulance now.”
“Did you ever eat something?”
This makes me smile. “No, not yet. Don’t worry.”
“Impossible. I’m going to worry.”
“Me too, if you don’t stay still in that hospital bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Hey, Cal,” Meeks says, loud enough for Callum to hear. “She helped us get a confession out of Aaron Hill. Pulled the information right out of him like a real detective.”
“Good job, Ace.”
“I’m going to sign up for the private investigator class one of these days.”
Meeks pulls into the parking garage and parks the car.
“All right, I’m going to find Link. I’ll let you know what the doctor says.”
“Be careful. That guy’s still out there.”
“I promise.”
Meeks takes me to reception, and we finagle our way back (his badge helped) as they start checking Link in. A nurse comes to help clean him up before one of the emergency doctors steps up. He suffered couple of broken ribs, and one of the lacerations on his face will need stitches.
“Let’s run a CT scan to be sure there’s no internal bleeding.”
Then they whisk Link away.
“It’s going to be a while before he’s done,” Meeks says. “Let’s find a place to sit.”
“I need food.” My scan of the vicinity finds a lounge with the familiar glow of a vending machine. “You need anything?”
“Anything with caramel.” He reaches for his wallet, but I shake my head and walk over.
Another vending machine, only it’s a different cop I’m buying for. My friend is getting placed in a large tube that’s going to scan his body after being beaten by criminals over gambling debts.
My body is tired and sore. My mind is exhausted but still racing at full speed. I was just in the clutches of a man known as the Fixer, and he held no qualms about fixing Link and me.
I insert my money and punch the keys for the food I want, first one candy bar and then another, and return to Meeks before more time passes…before I can allow my mind too really dive into what happened tonight.
“Are you OK, Bailey?”
I shrug, passing Meeks his candy bar. “It’s a lot.”
“I’ll say. Traumatic. Being taken, bound, hearing your friend getting hurt. I have the name of a therapist, and I would recommend talking to her. Even if it’s just for one session.”
I nod. “Thanks, Meeks.”
“You can call me Rob. I’ll have Callum give you her number.”
Some time later, the CT scan comes back showing very little internal damage, which is miraculous.
“I work out,” Link says with a laugh. “It’ll take more than a few kicks to bring me down.”
“Lincoln Fletcher,” I scold, but I tilt my head to one side, distracted by a point of order. “I don’t know your middle name.”
“And it’s staying that way.”
“Everything’s all right,” the doctor says. “His broken ribs have been bound, and the external injuries have been seen to.”
“I want to go home,” Link says. “If I don’t need to stay, I’d rather not.”
“I understand that. I’ll prepare the paperwork.”
The TV is on the local news station in Link’s room, shared with one another person who is sound asleep. Even with the volume on low, we watch with rapt attention as the news report shows Aaron being escorted into custody, his wrists in handcuffs. The headline reads: Bay Area Vice Principal Tied to Organized Crime.
“I still can’t believe it,” I say.
Link shakes his head. “I thought the poker game was just for fun. I had no idea what I was walking into.”
“And the captain is factoring in Aaron’s use of intimidation,” Meeks adds. “You’re not likely to face any criminal charges, especially after your involvement in his arrest.”
“This could’ve cost me everything,” Link says. He closes his eyes and sighs. “I was such an idiot.”
“We’re lucky things turned out the way they did,” I say, “but Alex Fisher is still out there.”
“Not if Darren Stone has anything to say about it. This time, he was close. He smells blood in the water, and he’s not going to back down.”
“He must be a good detective,” I say, awed by the way Meeks talks about him. “But I’m not going to invite him over for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“I asked him to wait, Bailey,” Link says.
“But he’s a police officer. It’s his call, whether or not he waits. You could’ve been killed.”
Meeks stays silent, keeping his expression neutral.
Still, with Darren Stone is really as good as Meeks says, then I’m glad he’s the one hunting Alex Fisher.
Two Weeks Later
Callum’s apartment, although only consisting of one bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and living room, is definitely not a bachelor pad. Although I’d been here a few times for Dragon Master one-shots he’s run, this is the first time I’ve come here because of a date. I’m noticing the space now with fresh eyes, impressed by his minimalistic approach to furniture and decoration. It’s homey without being cluttered, which must make it easy to clean and maintain, since he keeps long hours at the precinct.
I go to the bookshelf that shares wall space with his television. Several science fiction volumes fill the shelves, a lot of them by Robin Ericson. I run my fingers down the spine of Blood Catacombs.
The time at school since Aaron’s arrest has been all-hands-on-deck. Faculty and staff alike have picked up the pace to help administration keep up with the workload, not to mention running interference with the students and families eager to know how we let something like this happen. Some of them aren’t pleased that Link still has his job.
“Link told me that he’s looking at transferring schools,” I say over my shoulder to Callum, not taking my eyes off of the books.
He opens the microwave door, and out wafts the tantalizing smell of freshly made popcorn. “That’s too bad. Are his chances of getting hired somewhere else good?”
“This is probably going to follow him,” I say. “He may have better luck in another career, if that’s the case.”
“But he didn’t knowingly commit a crime,” Callum says. “And being threatened by the mob shouldn’t be held against him.”
“Tell that to the families who aren’t relenting.”
Callum crosses from the kitchen to the living room couch holding the steaming bowl. “I’ll talk to the captain. There’s a position open for an analyst. It can’t hurt to see if he’s qualified.”
“Oh, that would be great. Would the captain be okay with interviewing him?”
Callum sits down, giving me a shrug. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t. We all know what really happened. Link’s a victim, not a criminal.”
Even though he’s had his stitches out for a few days now, I’m careful as I sit down. He notices and brings me close, his arm around my shoulders and holding me against him. He kisses my hair before picking up the remote and starting the movie.
“Does it still hurt?” I rest my hand over the part of his stomach where the angry red line had been.
“No. I forget it’s there, really, until I reach for something on a high shelf.”
“Too bad the guy who did it took the prison sentence instead of Meeks’s deal.”
When Meeks caught Callum’s attacker and brought him in, he made it very clear that he wasn’t going to give up the people he works for. What made all of this worse is that the kid is barely eighteen—someone the same age as our seniors, so young to be tangled up with organized crime. His entire life is going to be marked by this, yet he made it seem to us that working for them was the best decision he’d ever made. As angry as I am that he’d hurt Callum, my heart breaks for him, for his future. What led him to this point in his life? Who influenced him to think that these choices were good ones?
“The pawns in the chess game,” he says. “The first ones out on the front lines, the first ones taken down. And the bosses behind them stay clean.”
“And it’s going to ruin the rest of his life.” I snuggle against Callum’s chest, watching the images on the television screen without really seeing them. He’s warm and comfortable, and every ounce of tension from work is melting away.
“And still no sign of Alex Fisher or John Gleeson or whatever his name is.” Callum pulls the throw blanket from the back of the couch and covers us with it. “Stone’s really got his hands full with this one.”
He brings his other arm around me and chuckles at something funny in the movie. I try to keep my eyes open, but the weight of his arms and the warmth of the blanket make it difficult to fight off the exhaustion. He starts playing with my hair, brushing through it and smoothing it away from my face, and I know that I can’t fight it any longer. I give in, closing my eyes, finding rest.
About the Author
Elle Downing’s fondness for books and love of Agatha Christie led her down a path of crafting her very own mystery fiction. With a Masters in English Literature, Elle can’t go a single day without writing. She lives near tropical, sandy shores with her two dogs, analyzing every release from the Marvel Cinematic Universe and waxing poetic about Tolkien.
Roll for Initiative is the first book in the Bailey Knight series. Look out for more adventures coming your way soon!
Elle Downing, Roll for Initiative
