Narrow Escape Page 3

  “It was just visible under the passenger seat.” Nathan’s face was grim. “Does anyone know you borrowed her car? Her family or friends?”

  “No, she and I were alone.”

  “None of her neighbors saw her?”

  She bit her lip. “I didn’t see them...”

  “If the gang finds out you took Malaya’s car, they might think to try to track her cell phone. And it’s been on the entire drive up to Sonoma, plus the whole time we were talking.”

  “Would they really figure it out that fast?”

  “You escaped. That means they still need to kidnap you, but they’ve lost the element of surprise. They’ll be following every connection to you that they can think of.”

  She made to turn off the phone but he stopped her. “They might think you only stopped in Sonoma for gas and food. Let’s use this cell phone to our advantage. We have to take the phone and the car north, tonight.”

  “With Charity?”

  “I can call my parents and ask them to cut their dinner short to come home to watch her.”

  She cringed at the thought of leaving Charity. She already thought of her niece as if she were her own daughter. Besides, Charity had been very clingy since they’d escaped. The cat had been the only thing to get her to let Arissa go. It seemed very unlikely that Charity would let her aunt leave her behind. “No, don’t do that. Besides, Charity’s car seat is already in Malaya’s car.”

  As they hurried back to the house, Nathan checked his watch. “Let me make a phone call before we go.”

  “Who?”

  “My friend in LAPD narcotics.”

  “What for?” she demanded.

  “Calm down, I’m just following a hunch.” He got out his cell phone and dialed.

  She did calm down, because Mark had always trusted Nathan’s hunches. She entered the house just as Nathan started speaking into his phone.

  “Steve, it’s Nathan Fischer. I had a question about the LSL gang. Call me back when you get the chance.” He hung up the phone.

  “I know the LSLs were at the chop shop when Mark died, but I don’t understand why they’re after me, and especially after all these years.”

  “I don’t know. Other Filipino gangs speak Tagalog.” He shrugged and shook his head. “It’s just a hunch.”

  Mark had always said Nathan did two things extremely well—he was an expert shot with a handgun, and his gut instinct was usually dead on. Both those things also usually got them in a heap of trouble, Mark had said with a laugh.

  And now, she had no one else she could turn to, no one else who might be able to figure out why those men had kidnapped her, and what the connection was to Mark. But did her presence only bring up bad memories of the day his best friend died and his career ended? And could she really trust those instincts when they led him to accuse her brother?

  * * *

  She was beautiful in her sleep.

  Nathan couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at Arissa in the passenger seat of Malaya’s car. This particular stretch of freeway was lined with lights, spaced widely apart. Every time they passed under a pool of white, he would look over and see her face, relaxed in sleep, vulnerable. No sign of her stress, her worry, the jumpiness that had dogged her all the way from L.A. She leaned her head against the closed window, exposing the graceful column of her throat.

  Before her mom’s cancer—was it five years ago?—she’d been a party girl, lively and bubbly. Nathan had been attracted to her for a long time, but she was a bit wild and his partner’s sister, which made her off limits.

  And, at the time, the fact she wasn’t a Christian had mattered to him. He snorted in bitter irony at how the tables were turned. He’d given up on God just when she started believing in Him.

  But despite her social lifestyle, when her family needed her, she had been there one hundred percent, according to what Mark had told Nathan. There was no trace of the party girl anymore. And now, she looked like...a mother.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror at Charity, asleep in her car seat. Poor kid had had an exhausting day, too.

  The sight of her brought back all the memories he’d tried to bury.

  He had originally snuck into that LSL gang chop shop because he’d seen Mark enter the place. Back at the station, he had noticed his partner furtively slip a case folder into his jacket before heading out the door. The Gangs and Narcotics Division had had several drug raids happen too late, the occupants of the drug houses long gone by the time they got there, and Nathan suspected a mole. So when he saw Mark’s unusual actions, he was suspicious, even though he didn’t want to be. He hadn’t wanted to believe that his friend and partner was betraying his fellow cops.

  But he followed Mark to that LSL chop shop, crouched behind a barrel and saw Mark hand the case folder to Johnny Capuno. Johnny was about to hand Mark a bulging envelope when there was a shout behind Nathan and bullets started flying.

  Johnny pocketed the envelope and the case folder and escaped, which was why Internal Affairs never found any evidence on Mark’s body that he was a mole.

  That day, Mark hid behind a Lexus. Other gang members peppered Nathan’s shield, a Buick, with gunfire. Nathan returned fire and shot one of them, then ran behind a Trans Am.

  Then Mark pointed his gun straight at Nathan.

  Nathan’s heart stopped as if the bullet had already plunged deep. But then Mark missed.

  Nathan brought his gun up...but didn’t fire.

  The next thing he had known, his leg felt like it had been blown apart. Just the memory made his hands shake against the steering wheel.

  He had reluctantly told Internal Affairs about seeing Mark give Johnny the case folder. He knew if Mark was found to have sold information to the LSL gang, Mark’s family wouldn’t receive his pension. The Tiongs desperately needed the money after Mrs. Tiong’s surgery a couple years before Mark’s death. But IA hadn’t found any proof and the investigation was dropped.

  He’d never told the Tiongs about seeing Mark take aim at him. It was bad enough they’d had to endure the questions from Internal Affairs after Mark’s funeral. So he’d kept his secret, but it pained him to hear from Arissa’s lips how she believed her brother was innocent.

  Nathan couldn’t deny what he’d seen before the gunfight. Mark’s actions hadn’t been those of an innocent man. And now, Mark was gone.

  Nathan missed him. And not just him.

  Except for that one angry conversation with Arissa, he hadn’t seen any of the Tiong family in over three years. Until tonight. If this was the LSL gang, why would they be after Arissa now, so long after the fact?

  An insidious thought twisted its way into his head, a thought he’d been trying to keep at bay. Arissa and Mark had grown up on the same streets as the LSL gang members, knew them from their childhood. Why would the gang be after her if she didn’t know anything? Was she really as innocent as he’d like to believe her to be? He didn’t want to think it of her, but he also hadn’t wanted to believe Mark would betray his badge.

  Except that Nathan had once known Arissa well. She was fiercely loyal to her family, and fiercely protective. If she did know something that would put her in danger, she would have done everything she could to protect Charity and her parents. She wouldn’t have left herself and a three-year-old child open to attack that way.

  The LSLs were known to be part of a drug cartel that consisted of four Filipino gangs. Why did they kidnap her as opposed to simply killing her? What did they need from her?

  Arissa awoke with a start and a sharply indrawn breath. She blinked at her surroundings, then at him. For a moment, her eyes seemed to light up with an expression he hadn’t seen in three years. Then they turned to look out the car windows, and her face became grave again. “How long until we reach the truck stop?”

&nb
sp; “Another hour.”

  “The cell phone won’t die before we get there, will it?”

  He glanced down to where he’d propped it in the open ashtray. He pressed a button to look at the amount of charge left in it. “It think it’ll have plenty of juice by the time we get to the stop. When you leave it in the women’s restroom, don’t leave it in the open. Put it someplace a little out of the way so no stranger will find it immediately and try to contact Malaya about her phone.”

  “Or someone might just take her phone,” Arissa commented. “It’s one of the latest models.”

  “I hope they don’t. If they have it while the men after you are tracking it...” He didn’t want any more innocents suffering in all this.

  “Let me try to get hold of her again.” Arissa picked up a new prepaid cell phone they’d bought at a gas station a few miles back and tried calling Malaya’s home phone number. “Still no answer. I left a message on the answering machine at her parents’ house, too, but before I left L.A., she mentioned that they’re out of town this week.”

  A green rest stop sign flashed as they passed it. “Can we stop?” she asked. “I need to use the restroom.”

  He turned into the rest stop. The outdoor floodlights cast a sickly yellow glow over the parking spaces directly in front of the low buildings. Despite the late hour, there was a scattering of cars and a couple big rigs. Weary travelers making a pit stop wandered around the two main buildings and the kiosks with drink and snack machines.

  Nathan walked around near the parked car, stretching his legs, easing the cramp in his injured thigh. He kept an eye on Charity, still sound asleep in the back of the car.

  A black BMW SUV pulled into the rest stop, its bright headlights dispelling the gloom for a moment before it parked a few spaces down from them. Two men got out and headed toward Nathan on their way to the restrooms.

  Except they didn’t walk like travelers who needed to use the bathrooms. They walked like predators stalking a kill—their eyes swept the area around the buildings, pausing briefly on a tall slim woman buying a soda at one of the vending machines, again on a shorter woman walking her dog in the grassy area. They strode purposely, quickly.

  Nathan found himself immediately slipping into his narcotics detective role once again. He remained nonchalant, maintaining his cover as a motorist just stretching his legs, but he cast furtive glances at the two men.

  As they passed him, he clearly saw their faces.

  It took all his strength not to start in surprise.

  THREE

  LSL gang members. Nathan remembered their faces from his years in narcotics. He even recalled one of them as a flashing glimpse of a scared face as the man fled from the chop shop during the firefight.

  The men looked directly at him and then casually looked away. They didn’t recognize him at all. But they would recognize Arissa. He knew in his gut that’s who they were looking for.

  He followed them, and one of them answered his cell phone. “Yeah, we’re here... No, we don’t see her yet.”

  At that moment, Arissa walked out of the women’s restroom and headed toward Nathan.

  The backs of the two men stiffened. They reached into their jackets.

  Nathan had his Glock out in a split second. “Freeze! Police!”

  The two men whirled around, guns raised, and Nathan darted behind a circular bulletin kiosk as the first shots were fired. The few bystanders scattered. Thank goodness there weren’t many people who might be hit by a stray bullet or a ricochet.

  He peered around the other side of the kiosk, saw Arissa dashing for the car. He had to get there, too, so they could drive away. He fired a few return shots, and the two men took cover behind a huge metal recycling receptacle. Now was his chance. He aimed three shots in their direction, then sprinted for the car.

  But his leg wouldn’t hold him. After being stationary for a couple hours, a few scant minutes of stretching weren’t enough and his leg buckled under him in a bloom of pain. He landed on the asphalt of the walkway, gravel biting into his palm and prickling his jaw.

  He couldn’t even run for his life!

  But Arissa could. She sprinted toward the car and dove into the passenger side, then slithered to the driver’s seat. The engine fired up as Nathan hoisted himself to his feet and took cover behind an oak tree. A bullet rained splinters on his shoulder.

  “Go!” he told her. “Get out of here!” He wasn’t sure if she could hear him. He fired at the two men.

  There was a sudden screech and thump as Arissa drove the car up onto the curb, across the grass and the walkway, to jerk to a stop next to the tree. A bullet pinged off the frame and she screamed, “Get in!” even as she leaned over to open the passenger-side door. The sound of Charity’s crying rang in counterpoint to the bullets whizzing past.

  He dove in, yanking the door closed behind him. “Go! Go!”

  She took off with tires throwing up clods of grass and dirt. Cranking on the wheel, she bounced back into the parking lot, but she hadn’t turned on the headlights and narrowly missed hitting a parked car.

  She flipped on the headlights. “How do I get out of here?” She flinched as a bullet shattered a tail light.

  “Just get us away from them!” Nathan rolled down the window and fired at the two men, who were running after them into the parking lot. When Nathan fired, they ducked behind their car.

  The old car’s headlights were feeble and narrow, and Arissa swerved around a bush before jamming down a straight stretch of the parking lot. Nathan didn’t recognize this part of the rest stop. They entered a small side ramp and drove under the freeway.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I don’t know!” Arissa said.

  The small street emptied them into another parking lot, similar to the one they’d just left. “This is the other rest area on the opposite side of the freeway,” Nathan said.

  “I’m not going back toward two men shooting at us.” Arissa found the freeway exit. She jammed the car onto the on-ramp and suddenly they were back on the freeway—but going in the opposite direction, heading south and not north.

  The only sound in the car now was Charity’s crying. “It’s all right, nene.” Arissa tried to soothe her with glances in the rearview mirror. “Don’t be frightened. We’re okay now.”

  “At the next exit, get off and we’ll switch,” Nathan said. “I’ll turn us around and heard north again for a little while in case they’re following us.”

  Arissa nodded.

  “I recognized them,” Nathan said. “They’re LSLs.”

  She was silent for a moment. “I guess that answers that question. But there are still the questions of why they want me—and why now?”

  “Where’s Malaya’s cell phone?”

  “There was nowhere to hide it in the restroom so I tossed it out of the car back in the rest area parking lot. I can’t think of any other way they could have tracked us so soon.”

  Nathan couldn’t, either. But what concerned him more was the fact the LSL gang had managed to run a trace on the cell phone so quickly in the first place. It could be done with private companies, but not this fast. No, the only ones who could do it this quickly were law enforcement.

  Did the LSL gang have another mole in the LAPD?

  They rode in silence, punctuated only by Arissa’s soothing remarks to Charity and the girl’s hiccuping cries that slowly died down as she drifted back to sleep.

  As Arissa got off at the next exit ramp, Nathan’s cell phone rang. His stomach lurched as Steve Thompson’s name appeared on caller ID. Did Steve have something to do with the attack tonight? He felt ugly thinking about it. Steve had been a friend for years. In fact, he had helped Nathan a few months ago when Nathan’s friend, Shaun O’Neill, had needed information.

  B
ut the LSL gang had managed to somehow track Arissa to that rest stop. When they’d been speaking on the phone with someone, they had known Arissa was there. What if Steve was the mole? Should Nathan lie and pretend they hadn’t just gotten shot at? Or should Nathan at least act as if he trusted Steve?

  Steve. His friend. Just like Mark had been his best friend and partner, the man he’d trusted his life to day after day. Were they both moles after all? The betrayal bit deep in his stomach.

  He answered the phone on the last ring. “Hey, Steve.”

  “Hey, buddy, what’s up? Haven’t heard from you in a few months. You out of physical therapy by now? How’s everything going?” Steve’s usual cheerful chitchat, nothing out of the ordinary. No pumping Nathan for information or trying to figure out what Nathan might know or not know.

  “Uh...”

  Steve’s voice deepened. “Uh-oh. What’s wrong? Your voice mail message only said you had a question about the LSLs. Please tell me you’re not in trouble with them.”

  “Steve, what have you heard about them lately?”

  A slight pause. Then shuffling, a bit of bumping, and when Steve spoke again, his voice was quieter and slightly muffled. “Look, I’m not talking to you, okay? That information is classified, so I’m not telling you about how there’s word on the street that the LSLs are looking for someone, but they won’t say who or why. And I’m definitely never going to speak about how all this activity only started about a week ago.”

  “Who are they looking for?”

  “Most of the snitches I’ve talked to lately don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman. But they all say that the LSLs are stressed. And you and I both know that stressed drug lords make unhappy campers.” A pause, then, “Hey, they’re not after you, are they? Please tell me no. Fischer, even you can’t be that dumb.”

  “They’re not after me.” But had those two men gotten a good look at Nathan’s face in the dim parking lot? They hadn’t recognized him, but would they be able to describe him to someone who would? After all, he had been Mark’s partner, and Mark had been their mole.