J.D. Trafford - Michael Collins 02 - No Time to Die (8 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Word spread quickly of what had happened to Jane and Community Immigrant Legal Services, Inc.

Tyco, the owner of The Box, wrapped her in a big bear hug. He declared that her money was no good – all drinks were on the house. So, Michael, Kermit, and Jane settled into their booth and didn’t expect to leave until they were kicked out.

Jane gave Kermit a detailed description of the board meeting, and then the conversation wound around to other topics.

“
What’s with Miggy?” Jane asked. “I saw him sitting outside the bar when we came in.”

Kermit grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it in his mouth.

“I told him to join us, but he said that being indoors freaks him out. He sleeps in the fields.”

Kermit shrugged his shoulders and grabbed some more popcorn.

“His choice.” Kermit pointed at Jane. “But he really wants some alone time with you, my dear. I think that’s why he’s really hanging around.”

“
So he can show me the spirits?”

“
Exact-a-mondo,” Kermit said.

Jane smiled and shook her head.

“He should know that ghost hunting isn’t my job any more.” Jane finished her pint of beer. “I’m not sure it was ever part of my job, but that’s all theoretical now.”

Michael picked up the pitcher of beer. He filled Jane’s glass, and then topped off his own. He set the pitcher down, and then Michael slid out of the booth. He stood, picked up his glass, and raised it high.

“A toast,” he said. “To unemployment.”

They all clinked.

“To unemployment.”

###

The Box started to really rock at three in the morning. It was officially closed. The doors were locked, but Tyco allowed Kermit, Michael and Jane to stay while he cleaned up.

With the other customers gone, Kermit jumped over the bar and found the stereo. He turned the dial until the radio tuned into a Miami salsa station.

“
This is what we need.” Kermit clapped his hands, turned the music up louder, and then pulled Jane out of the booth. “Time to groove.”

They spun around the dance floor, laughing through a few songs, and then the music slowed.

Kermit looked at Jane and smiled.

“
Sorry, darling, I think this other lady is the next one on my dance card.” He walked over to the waitress – otherwise weighed down by the world – and lightened her load.

Jane, now standing alone, looked over at Michael.

“A dance?”

Michael got up out of the booth.

“I was afraid you’d never ask.” 

The radio station kept the music slow for another hour.

Michael and Jane held each other, rocking back and forth. Occasionally, Jane would kiss Michael’s neck, his chin, and then his lips, working her way around.

Michael didn’t stop her.

It was the first woman he had held and had kissed since Andie. It felt good to be with someone again. It felt good to be close.

Jane rocked up on her tip toes.

“I’m tired,” she whispered in Michael’s ear.

Michael kissed her, and then told her that he was taking her home.

“That’s what I was hoping for,” she said.

###

It was one in the afternoon by the time Michael and Jane woke up, but even then, neither wanted to get out of bed.

Jane put her hand on Michael’s chest.

“
It’s nice waking up with you.” Her voice was soft, still sleepy.

Michael smiled. “It is nice.”

“We don’t have to go anywhere do we?”

Michael shook his head. He then pulled the thin
bedsheet up, covering them. Then he pulled Jane’s naked body close to his. “This is yet another of the many advantages of being unemployed.”

###

They didn’t leave Jane’s apartment for two days. If Michael and Jane hadn’t have run out of coffee or depleted most of their food supply, they probably wouldn’t have left the apartment at all.

As they stood in the checkout line at Kwik-E-Mart, Michael put his arms around Jane and kissed the top of her head. He hadn’t felt this good in a long time, almost forgetting the people tracking his movements and searching foreign bank accounts.

“
You want to go to Miami for a few days?” Michael asked. “I could get a room on the beach. We could sit in the sun and turn ourselves red. Maybe we could read trashy books or gossip magazines.” Michael pointed to the row of magazines by the cash register. “Looks like that one has a three-page spread on botched nose-jobs.”

Jane smiled, and then her smile faded away.

“I probably shouldn’t.”

“
Why?”

“
I still have clients,” Jane said. “I need to wrap up cases and transfer the ones that I can’t finish to another attorney, wind down the organization.” 

“
Just a few days.” Michael started to unload their groceries, putting them on the small conveyor-belt to be scanned.

“
The DNA test should also be done, so we need to inform Tommy’s family of the results and figure out what to do about the funeral.” Jane nodded, mentally going over the lists in her head.

Michael knew what she was doing, because he used to do the same thing. The to-do lists, and then the lists of lists, and the sub-lists within each list. It was
never-ending.

Jane looked at Michael. She bit her lip, thinking.

“I know what the vote did. I know what the board said. I’m ‘closed immediately,’ but I can’t just drop it.” Then Jane looked away, frustrated. “I’m still a lawyer. I’ve got professional obligations, and I need another job some day. I can’t just leave a wreck behind me.”

“
I know,” Michael said, although he had certainly left a wreck behind himself many times.

He let Jane have her moment, but then he regrouped.

“It’s just a few days to play. What’s another day or two?”

Jane didn’t respond. She was thinking.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Michael said. “I’ll track down the DNA results and talk to the family about funeral arrangements for Tommy, while you pack your bags for a little getaway.”

“
You’ll do that?”

“
I promise.” Michael kissed her, again. “Then you can do whatever you need to do.” She smiled and he melted a little bit. It felt like they had been together forever. It was almost too easy being with her.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The sun rose high over the Thomas Dewey National Nature Preserve. Maus sat in his black Arctic Cat 150 ATV four-wheeler. He wore full camo. A long, polished pump-action rifle laid over his lap.

He watched the edge.

There was a clump of brush where the swamp turned to scrappy forest. His eyes narrowed when a few branches rustled.

Maus
smoothly and silently took the rifle off his lap. He took the safety off and put his finger on the trigger.

He kept the gun pointed at the rustling brush.
Maus felt his heartbeat quicken. He tightened his grip, and narrowed his focus even further.

Then he heard a warble, and then another. Two wild turkeys were about to emerge from the brush into the open; a clear shot.

He took a shallow breath as the first bird’s foot and then its entire body came out of hiding. Maus smiled. Gotcha.

It was going to be an easy shot, he thought, and then
Maus’ cell phone rang.

The noise startled him as he pulled the trigger and the shot went high.

The combination of the shot and the loud ringtone sent the wild turkeys into a panic. The birds scattered, and Maus blindly fired six shots into the brush until he didn’t have anything left to fire.

He may have hit them, maybe not. He’d have to check.

Maus put the rifle down, picked up his cell phone.

He pressed a button on the phone.

“What the hell? You’re late.” Maus shouted. “Where are you?”

He walked over to the scrub brush on the edge of the swamp. He held the cell phone to his ear, listening while he searched for signs of the stupid birds.

“Well, after you enter, take a left and follow Token Trail. It’s not that hard.” Maus turned off his cell phone and shoved it in his pocket. He had found them. Two turkeys were hit. One was dead, the other was still breathing.

He knelt down onto the soft ground
. Crouched over the bird that was still breathing, Maus studied it. The turkey’s breathing was slow and forced. Its head twitched.

He altered his position so that he could get his hands around the bird’s neck without being pecked or bitten. Then in one quick movement he gripped the bird’s neck, stood, twisted, and tore the bird’s head off.

It felt good.

###

Dylan didn’t like the swamp, but he appreciated the privacy.

He parked his black Aston Martin DB9 convertible and got out. Maus was waiting at a lone picnic table in the clearing between the road’s turnaround and the trail head. His ATV was parked nearby. It had two turkey carcasses roped to the back.

“
Never too early to kill something,” Dylan smiled, as if he knew about the joys of hunting and the outdoors. He stepped over a small puddle, careful not to dirty his polished Kenneth Cole loafers as he walked over to Maus.

“
Best time to hunt is always in the morning,” Maus said. He unscrewed the top of his thermos and poured himself a cup of coffee. If his boss wanted to pretend to be a woodsman, he might as well play along.

When Dylan finally arrived at the table, he didn’t sit. He wasn’t going to hang out with a man like
Maus. They weren’t friends. It was business.

Dylan put an envelope of cash down on the table.

Maus set down his cup of coffee, took the envelope, and shoved it in his front jacket pocket.

“
What’s the status?” Maus picked the coffee back up and took a sip, feeling better. He always felt better when he got paid.

“
It’s done.” Dylan was smug. His confidence in himself never failed.

“
What do you mean?” Maus shook his head. “It’s not done. The test came back yesterday. They matched the cousin’s DNA. They confirmed what the lawyer chick’s been saying. I don’t think she knows yet, but she will.”

“
The lawyer is gone.” Dylan folded his arms across his chest, smiling. “Believe it or not, my good-for-nothing brother actually did something useful. The board voted to shut her down immediately. She’ll be clearing out of that shithole of an office and leaving town.”

“
She’s leaving town?” That part sounded good to Maus, made him feel even better.

“
Not confirmed,” Dylan said. “But my brother arranged for her to get offered a job far away. I have a feeling that it won’t be long. She’s got no reason to stay.”

Maus
finished his coffee, and then shook out the remaining drops of liquid. He screwed the plastic cup back onto the top of his thermos and stood.

“
Well, we’ll keep in touch then?”

“
We will,” Dylan said. He slapped Maus on his big shoulder as if they were in a locker room after a big game. “How about a smile? How about a thank you?”

“
I still got a bad feeling.” Maus shook his head, trying to stay cool and not get too excited. “True believers don’t quit easy.” He walked over to his ATV. Maus put his thermos into the ATV’s back compartment, and picked up his gun. “I know about true believers,” he said, “because I am one. Just don’t believe in the same things, that’s all.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Michael woke up early. He slid out of bed, grabbed a pair of shorts and T-shirt off of the floor, and then put them on. After writing a quick note to Jane, Michael took one of the room keys off of the table, found his flip-flops, and walked out the door.  

The days away in Miami had been great. Michael and Jane had declared the historic Hotel Astor their home away from home. The Art Deco masterpiece was a white three-story jewel box on the corner of Washington and 10th Street. It was a quiet place to decompress, just four blocks from South Beach’s famous Lummus Park and the ocean.

Michael rode the elevator down and walked through the hotel’s sleek lobby. When he stepped outside, he could tell it was going to be a hot day. It was early. The sun was still low in the sky, but there wasn’t a cloud and its rays already beat down on the asphalt, softening it.

He walked down10th. A few minutes later, he was at the beach. Michael ditched his flip-flops near a palm tree and stepped onto the sand, finding the cool underneath the top layer of white powder. It felt good. Michael imagined he was back at the Sunset.

Soon
, he thought
. A couple more days.

Michael took a few steps, slow at first, and then he started to run. His feet dug into the sand, found a spot, and pushed him forward. Michael’s breathing became heavier. His quads started to burn, and he ran faster.

He passed one jogger, and then another. His eyes slackened, and Michael fell into a rhythm. He kept running for miles, until he finally reached the park’s northern boundary. He stopped, touched the ground, and started running back, even faster than before.

Michael pushed himself hard. His shirt turned wet with sweat. His body begged him to stop, but he kept going until the end.

When he had reached the finish, Michael fell to his knees. His body folded in on itself as he tried to catch his breath. Beads of sweat ran into his eyes. The salt stung. His eyes started to water, and he closed them.  

Blinking, the different blues of the ocean and tans of the beach cascaded in and out of overlapping dots of color. As his vision started to clear, Michael saw Agent Frank Vatch a hundred yards away. Vatch was watching from his wheelchair on one of the paved bike paths that ran along Ocean Drive.

Vatch
seemed so small, almost harmless.

Michael blinked, and
Vatch was gone. The consequences for his actions would be delayed for yet another day.

Michael got up, found his flip-flops, and began his walk back to the hotel. His head was light from the run. The appearance and disappearance of Agent
Vatch didn’t concern him, and Michael didn’t know why.
Maybe it wasn’t real
, Michael thought.
Maybe I’m imagining things
. Michael ran his hands through his hair and focused on the run.

He needed a good run, and it was good, hard run. The return to Jesser, however, was not as good.