Looking Into Darkness Page 10

  He moved quietly down the hallway, hearing people starting to stir as the morning light grew stronger outside their windows. He hoped to take Cristo and his partner down before those people started coming out of their rooms and into the hallways. He found the room. Moseby looked down at the key card in his left hand. It was now or never. He thumbed off the safety on his Glock and slipped the key in to the reader. Two green lights flashed, and the door gave a mechanical clicking sound. Moseby shoved it open and stepped inside, his gun in firing position. There was no noise except for a soft drone coming from the television which was turned down low. Moseby advanced into the room.

  *****

  Lucy French was approaching one of the hotels when she spotted a man walking out with two duffle bags slung over his shoulder. He was heading for a bus stop. Lucy felt a tingling at the back of her neck and she fell in behind the man, following him at a distance.

  He seemed nervous, glancing around constantly, as if he suspected that he was being followed. Lucy backed off, crossing to the other side of the street and keeping him in sight. She thought about calling Moseby but decided to wait until she was sure that she was following the right guy. She wondered where the partner was?

  *****

  Moseby stepped around the corner, his gun covering the room. There was a man on the bed. His shirt was stained with blood. This had to be the one that he had hit last night. Moseby moved closer. It was then that he realized that the man was dead. It was clear that someone had tried to administer first aid and that had not been enough to save the man’s life. That meant that Cristo had slipped past him somehow and was out in the city. Moseby turned and headed back out the door, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and dialing Lucy’s number.

  *****

  Lucy was half a block behind Cristo when her phone started vibrating and buzzing in her pocket. She stepped into a doorway and pulled it out and answered it. “French,” she said.

  “Where are you?” Moseby asked.

  “About half a block behind our perp,” Lucy replied.

  “Stay there. I’ll be out on the street in a couple of minutes. His partner is dead which makes him even more dangerous,” Moseby told her.

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  “I know you do. Be careful, kid,” Moseby told her.

  “I’m always careful, Gar,” Lucy replied.

  “Keep telling yourself that,” Moseby told her.

  “Hurry up, then. I don’t want him getting away.”

  “I don’t either, kid,” Moseby told her.

  *****

  Cristo stopped at a bus stop. According to the schedule, the routes started running at eight in the morning. He should be able to get to another hiding place before the cops got too close. Fonesco was dead when he had gotten back to the room, and Cristo had no desire to sleep in the same room with a dead man.

  So, he had elected to get the hell out of Dodge. He had plenty of cash. Enough to go far away and never come back. There were not a whole lot of people on the street so far, but that would change soon. It was a beach resort, after all.

  Once the streets started to fill up, all bets were off. Because then Cristo would have an unlimited number of targets. Targets that he could use because they would run screaming once they knew, creating chaos for law enforcement personnel on the scene.

  He smiled, knowing that he would be able to slip away. No matter how hard the authorities looked for him, Cristo was confident that he would be able to escape no matter what!

  *****

  Garrett Moseby ran out into the street. He had seen Lucy was headed for the beach. That meant that she had Cristo in sight! He headed after her. He spotted the man with the twin duffels and raised his gun and fired.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cristo took a seat inside the glass walled bus stop. He should have grabbed a free coffee from the hotel lobby, but he was uneasy. The cops were getting closer. He could feel it. He glanced around. There weren’t enough people on the street yet. One of two had wandered out of their hotels looking for an open shop. But so far, they were out of luck. Cristo glanced over his shoulder and spotted a well-dressed woman apparently window-shopping at a store that wasn’t open yet. Something about the way she carried herself bothered him and made the small hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

  She had to be a cop. He wondered if she was alone. He didn’t see anybody else that looked like a cop. Not yet anyway. But he was pretty sure that she had backup around somewhere.

  The question was where? Someplace close, he was sure of that. Cristo stood and looked around. Maybe, coming out in the open hadn’t been such a good idea. He needed to find cover. Cristo scooped up the duffels with one hand and kept his right hand close to his body and exited the bus stop. Cristo started walking towards the marina. From the corner of his eye, he could see the lady cop starting to follow him. With any luck, he might be able to take her out and make his getaway.

  Lucy French saw Cristo stand and move out of the bus stop. Where the hell was Moseby? Cristo was getting away. She started after him, her eyes darting around looking for her partner. He had said he was on the way down to the street. But from where? She increased her pace to keep Cristo in sight. She had a feeling that she knew where he was headed, and she hoped that she was wrong.

  Garrett Moseby had spotted both Cristo and Lucy, but he had stayed hidden. He wanted to see what the robber was going to do. When Cristo took off, that was something he hadn’t anticipated. Moseby stripped off his jacket and tie and dropped them into a trash can. Hopefully, he would have time to come back after them. He pulled his badge off his belt and dropped it into his pants pocket, and then pulled his shirt-tails out to cover his gun. With his sunglasses on, he looked like any other early morning tourist.

  He walked faster closing the distance to Cristo from behind. Lucy hadn’t even noticed him yet. That was fine with him. Where was Cristo headed? Moseby frowned. They were not that far from the marina. There was no way he could allow Cristo to steal a boat!

  Just then Cristo looked around and saw him following and broke into a run. Moseby hated when the crooks did that. He took off after him, sprinting for all that he was worth. Cristo spun around, a gun in his fist and fired. Moseby dived for cover as bullets snapped through the air around him. He rolled behind a palm tree and grabbed for his own pistol.

  Gunfire sounded from across the street and Moseby knew that Lucy had joined the battle. He heard Cristo snarl a curse and then, more gunfire. Lucy cried out in pain. Moseby was on his feet charging and shooting as he went. He saw Cristo jerk when at least one of his rounds found flesh, and then Cristo was shooting back at him. But Moseby had succeeded in driving him away from the marina.

  Cristo disappeared around a corner as Moseby yanked out his cell phone and called 9-1-1 to get an ambulance for his partner. Moseby ran across the street and knelt down beside her. Lucy had been hit in the leg and it had knocked it out from under her. She was cussing a blue streak when he reached her and dropped down next to her.

  “Why the fuck did you let him get away?” Lucy snarled, as he knelt beside her.

  “I was more concerned with my wounded partner. Besides, we cut him off from the marina,” Moseby told her.

  “What if he doubles back?”

  “Then, we’ll get him somewhere else.”

  “You need to go after him, Gar.”

  “I need to stay here and stop the bleeding until an ambulance gets here to get you to a hospital,” Moseby told her.

  “I’ll be fine, Garrett.”

  “I know that. That’s why I am here making sure of it.”

  *****

  “We almost had him, Captain,” Garrett Moseby looked up as Captain Stanley entered the surgical waiting room.

  “Yeah, you got lead into him. The boys in Clearwater are looking for him. They found a blood trail. But somehow, he managed to stop the bleeding,” Captain Stanley replied. “Any word on Lucy yet?”

  “Not yet. The
y took her straight to surgery when they got her here.”

  “Did you at least get a good look at the guy?”

  “Yes. Get me a sketch artist over here and I’ll describe him.”

  “Sullivan is on his way over.”

  “Good, because I’ll never forget this asshole’s face.”

  “I know you won’t.”

  “As soon as I know how Lucy is, I’m going back out to look for him.”

  “Garrett, you need to go home and get some rest. Let the uniforms keep searching until you’ve had some rest.”

  “I can’t do that, Captain. He’s taken too many of my friends and brothers. I won’t rest until I have caught him.”

  “Fine, but I’m putting two uniforms on her room as soon as it has been assigned. Lucy will have round the clock protection,” Luke Stanley told him.

  “Thanks,” Moseby nodded.

  “If it will help, I’ll give McCabe a call and see if she can come in and baby sit Lucy until we have this guy.”

  “You two talking again?” Moseby asked, referring to the on again off again romance between the captain and a former lady cop turned private eye, Rebekah McCabe.

  “At the moment. She just closed a couple of murders for us and saved the departmental shrink’s life.”

  “Rebekah was always a lot smarter than people gave her credit for,” Moseby said.

  “Yeah, and I keep forgetting that,” Stanley replied soberly.

  At that moment, Cary Sullivan walked in. He was the department sketch artist. Sullivan was thin and pale, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. He looked like a college student, but he held a bachelor’s degree in art and had been working for the department for the past four years.

  “Hey, Moseby, I understand you saw the guy you’re after?” Sullivan said.

  “I did. You ready to go to work?” Moseby asked.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Sullivan nodded.

  “Call me once French is out of surgery,” Stanley told them.

  “Will do, Captain Stanley,” Moseby said and then Stanley turned and walked out of the waiting room.

  Sullivan looked at Moseby. “How about we get started?” He suggested.

  *****

  Cristo pulled the bandana tight around his arm to staunch the flow of blood. The fucking cop had hit him while charging him. It was a fucking one in a million shot, but somehow, it had fucking connected. For the moment, he was crouched down in an alley behind a dumpster. Cristo was in trouble and he knew it. He needed to find someplace where he could go to ground and hide until the heat was off.

  *****

  Casey Rawlings entered the waiting room at the surgical unit. She spotted Moseby right away and walked over to him. “Any word yet?” she asked.

  “Not yet. How is Special Agent Royce?” Moseby asked.

  “She’s recovering and not happy,” Rawlings replied.

  “I suspect not. So, what are we going to do?” Moseby looked at her.

  “I was hoping we could work together and catch the bastard that put our partners in the hospital,” Rawlings told him.

  “I can live with that,” Moseby told her.

  *****

  Wilson Brown was tired. He had been in the police station since the night before. He had talked to detectives, told his story, and then they left him alone. He wondered about that. It seemed like that they hadn’t even believed him. Wilson shook his head. Something bad was going on in this town. He had come to the cops because he was trying to do the right thing. Now, it looked like the cops didn’t care about that. It worried him. He needed to get the word out onto the streets that Miss Loretta had sold out. Otherwise, the whole city could burn down around his ears.

  *****

  “Who’s here for Detective French?” the doctor asked, emerging from the doors leading back to surgery. Moseby was on his feet instantly.

  “I am. I’m Detective Moseby” he replied quickly, walking over to the doctor. The surgeon shook his hand and motioned for Moseby to follow him. Casey Rawlings followed close behind. The three of them entered a smaller room and took seats.

  “Detective French is out of danger. She should be awake in an hour or so. Her wounds were mainly flesh wounds, and through and through’s. She should heal with no problems,” the doctor told him. “She is going to be fine. But she’ll be off work for at least a month,” the doctor said.

  “Thank you,” Moseby said, closing his eyes and bowing his head to say a quick prayer. When he opened them, the doctor was gone, and Casey Rawlings was looking at him expectantly.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “The doctor said Lucy’s going to be fine. Let’s get out of here so I can call Captain Stanley and give him the good news. Then, we’re going hunting,” Moseby told her.

  “Sounds good,” Rawlings replied, following him out of the waiting room.

  *****

  Cristo had found a room for rent and had given the guy four hundred dollars for a room for the night. He needed to see a doctor, but if he did, they would have to call the police. Cristo didn’t want that. No, he would just have to take care of the wound himself. He had done it before when he was in the Army, and he would do it again this time. First, he would need to pack the wound and tighten cloth around it to hold the bandages in place. He used one of the sheets from the bed and four wash clothes to get the bleeding stopped.

  He called downstairs and asked them to send up some peroxide, and a couple of ace bandages, as well as a newspaper and a baseball cap that he had seen for sale downstairs. He had also asked for a sewing kit and scissors. Once it had been delivered, he did a more thorough job of cleaning and patching his wound.

  The cops had seen his face, and while there was little he could do about that, he could drastically change his appearance. He got his hair wet and went to work with the scissors. When he was done, he took two Tylenol and went to bed. He was exhausted and needed some rest.

  *****

  “Hello, Mr. Brown. Sorry I’ve kept you waiting but I had an officer shot,” Luke Stanley said, as he walked into the interrogation room where Wilson Brown had been parked while he waited.

  “Okay. Can you get me some water please?” Wilson asked.

  “I can do that,” Luke said, nodding to the uniform that had come in with him. The man disappeared out the door. “So, young man, you said you had some important information for us?”

  “That’s right, sir. I go to Miss Loretta’s church, and I was with her yesterday afternoon when she was going around and meeting different people to organize last night’s march. I didn’t realize it at first, but she was dropping off envelopes to some of the groups. And I ain’t never seen any of the people that she was leaving money with. There was one group calling themselves the Islamic Brotherhood, they had weapons in their rooms. After I saw all of that, I decided I didn’t want nothing more to do with the marching or Miss Loretta,” Wilson Brown explained. Just then the officer returned with a bottle of cold water. Brown gratefully accepted it, twisted off the lid and quickly drank half of the twenty-ounce bottle.

  “So, what you are saying is that Miss Loretta was paying some of these people from out of town to be in the march?” Stanley asked.

  “Yes, sir, that is exactly what I am saying,” Brown nodded his head for emphasis.

  “Can you remember the places that you went with Miss Loretta?”

  “Yes, sir, I sure can!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Garrett Moseby and Casey Rawlings were back in downtown Clearwater searching for the man they knew as Cristo. It was early afternoon and the temperature was pushing 100 degrees in the shade. “Are you sure you hit him?” Casey asked.

  “I hit him,” Moseby said, heading for the spot where the criminal had been standing when he had shot him. Moseby knelt down paying careful attention to the sidewalk and the grass nearby. “He left a blood trail,” Moseby stood up.

  “I guess you did hit him after all,” Casey agreed, as she spotted the spots of dried bl
ood.

  “Let’s follow them as far as we can. If we’re lucky, maybe the asshole bled out.”

  “That sounds like a plan.” Together they started to follow the dried blood drops. Moseby was wondering how Cristo might have stopped the bleeding long enough to get into a place where he could rent a room and lay low.

  Captain Stanley, backed up by FDLE and National Guardsmen, began staging raids at a number of Tampa hotels and clubs based on the information given to him by Wilson Brown. He had even allowed Brown to accompany him when he arrested Miss Loretta, head of a local Evangelical church and prominent Black Lives Matter leader in Tampa.

  Once she was in handcuffs, Miss Loretta acted like anything but a God-fearing church lady. She began cussing the officers and using terms that they had never heard before.

  “Lordy Mercy, if I hadn’t got video of it on my cell phone, nobody would believe that came out of her mouth. Or that she was one of the people behind the riots,” Wilson shook his head.

  “You’ll still be willing to testify against her, right?” Luke Stanley asked him.

  “Yes, sir. Would you mind if I post this story on my Facebook page?”

  “You go right ahead, Wilson. It might actually help calm things down in the city tonight.”

  *****

  For the first night in days, the city of Tampa was quiet. Wilson Brown’s video of Miss Loretta’s arrest had gone viral, as had his post of how she was paying groups to incite violence during the protests. During the night, police resumed regular patrols and a sense of calm settled over the city once more.

  Lucy French grumbled as she tried to get comfortable on the hospital bed. At least there were no sirens and flames visible during the night. The doctor had told her that he planned to release her the next morning, but that it would be at least a month or more before she could return to active duty. First, she had to recover from the wound and then go through physical therapy to regain full use of her arm.