Sweet Dreams (8 page)

Kirk saw Gus hit the ground and knew what he was planning on doing.
He thinks he is going to put another slug in my
other leg for good measure!
This all came to Kirk in the time it takes to blink for as soon as he realized it he dove to the ground like a baseball player sliding into first and between the glass that lay strewn on the pavement and radiator fluid made the street like an ice skating rink. Kirk skidded on his belly and saw Gus turnover and with a smirk on his face, he fired two shots in rapid succession.

Both shots hit Gus square in the forehead blowing out the back of his skull like a ripe watermelon. Gus slumped over in a lifeless heap.

Kirk lay in the middle of the street for a second, he was not aware of any other noise besides the thumping in his ears. He grunted as he pulled himself to his feet, brushing the dirt from his arms and glass shards. He made his way around to the back of the car. Gus was dead. His head lay in a pool of blood that grew as it drained from his body.

"Ah!" Kirk yelled in frustration and pounded his fist down on the car, his eyebrows lowered in anger, more at himself then anything else.
You had to kill the guy didn't you? He
pushed your buttons and you just had to make him pay!
He needed information, and now his only lead was dead! He could now hear the sound of emergency vehicles off in the distance.
Trouble,
he thought. "No fighting it now. Oh, well." He liked to tick people off, and it was even more fun when they thought they were smarter than him. However, he knew the truth. He was going to break this case. Now he had to!

Chapter Five

MARK TRIED TO OPEN HIS EYES. THEY FELT LIKE

they weighed ten pounds each. He cracked one eye open and was met with a blinding light that gave him an instant headache. The light in the hospital room beamed right into his eyes and adjusting was a slow process.

After a few minutes, Mark managed to work both eyes open and found that he was lying in a medium-sized room with a TV mounted on the wall at the foot of his bed. He could hear a shrill beeping coming from the heart monitor that sat on a metal counter next to his bed. The sound of nurses hurrying up and down the halls made a rustling as they walked from appointment to appointment. Mark wanted to sit up, but the harsh pain that shot through his side said otherwise. He hurt just about everywhere he had a nerve ending and they all cried out for attention. The glass had perforated his back and neck, and he could feel the wounds break their scabs open every time he moved.

"
Why?
Why was this happening?" A single tear ran down his cheek. His perfect life was ripped from him in a single moment, but his mind didn't want to believe it. "K and Sam are gone. Dead, and for what? This can't be. They had to have made it. Maybe by God's grace they made it. Is it possible?"

"Nurse! Nurse! Please help. I need help!" Frantically, he called out from his room and searched for the call button but could not find it through his blinding tears. A nearby nurse heard Mark calling and came into his room.

"Is everything all right, Mr. Appleton?" The plump nurse looked at his chart for a second and then began to check his vitals.

"Please," He cracked, his mouth was so dry, and it felt like he had been sucking on cotton. "Do you know where my wife and daughter are? They were in the explosion. Have you seen them? My wife's name is K Appleton, and Samantha is my daughter. Please..." His eyes filled with fresh tears, and he held tightly to the nurse's hand.

"Mr. Appleton, I am so sorry..." She hesitated. "They didn't make it. Everyone in the supermarket died, and we only found four survivors including you. I am so sorry,"

Mark's heart sank, and as the truth hit him, he began to weep harder. He needed to think. So many questions ran through his mind. "Was it a bomb? Was it a terrorist attack?

Was it an
accident
?"

He had to pull himself together. The nurse asked him if he wanted anything. "Would you like some water?" He declined

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and said he just needed to be alone for a while. Even though he felt like he could drink a gallon of water, he could not now, not with Sam and K dead. The round nurse told him she was going to go get the doctor and hurried out of the room. Mark's mind raced as he thought about what happened to his wife and little girl. Feelings of guilt started to rise in his heart. He should have gone in with them. If he had only made them stay with him. But how could he have known what would happen? How could anyone know?

The evening wore on as Mark lay in his empty room, staring at the ceiling. The doctor, a gentlemen in every respect came in and talked with him but Mark didn't hear him. Bill and Holly came by and Holly had red puffy eyes from crying, and Bill looked like he was going to pass out. Mark turned over and did not say a word to either of them. It was selfish he knew and he knew that they had lost their daughter and beloved granddaughter but he could not feel anything beyond his own deep dark grief.

Mark refused any food and in the end, they gave up and put something in his IV. The line between grief and anger was very thin and Mark fought it with everything in him but with each passing minute, he was losing the battle. He would find out what happened. He would find out if this was an accident.

"Because if it wasn't ..." his mind trailed off. "If it was a terrorist, then they would pay. One way or another, they would pay!" Finally, after the sun began to set, Mark drifted off to restless sleep.

________________________________________

"YOU, MR. WESTON, ARE off the case!" Captain Ja-cobson's face was as red as a Washington apple as he pointed his long, bony finger into Kirk's face. "All I need is a rogue cop running around
MY
city. All you had to do is interview the families in your files. Is that so hard? Now we've got a dead witness and a few miles of rubble that I've got to explain to the media! Who do you think is going to pay for all the damage?"

Kirk shrugged his shoulders and said. "I was just doing my job--following a lead."

"Shut up! Not another word! Now I want you on the next plane back to Detroit," He hissed. "I've already informed your superiors and they'll be expecting you." The Captain paced the room, trying to cool down. He glared at Kirk who sat in a chair looking smug. Sitting down in a big, black chair behind his desk, the Captain motioned for Kirk to leave.

"Here. You might want to look into this," Kirk tossed the purchase order on his desk as he stood to leave the room. He muttered a curse and walked from the captain's office. He slammed the door and, limped his way to the exit. He had a feeling that the FBI knew more than they were letting on. This stupid thing about interviewing the inmates' families was a joke. This was a well-planned job, and he had a feeling that the FBI might even know who it was. Maybe they could not do anything about it. But, then again, who gave a crap about a bunch of cons dying? They had it coming anyway, and it would save the taxpayers some money!

Kirk got into a cab as he left the FBI building, his rental car was at the shop and the rental car agency was not to keen on replacing it with his recent driving record. He rubbed his chin, thinking about what his next move was going to be. He

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was not one that liked to be pushed around, no matter who was doing the pushing. No. This was far from over. He had to know why this had a stinking smell about it.

"Hill View Hotel," he said. As he slumped back into his seat, the cab made a right onto the interstate. He touched his leg, feeling the bandage where his wound was. Wincing, he decided he would check into a different hotel and get his hands on another car. If that bottled-caped captain thought he was going to send him packing, he had another thing coming. His cell phone rang, and he looked at the number. It was his boss and he was sure he would have a few choice words for him so he silenced it, "Sorry. This one, I'm doing on my own."

The cab came to a stop in front of the Hill View Hotel and Kirk dug in his wallet for some cash. "Keep the change." He tossed the driver a fifty, and then headed into the building. Hill View was a simple hotel that sat next to a few other hotels in the same district. It was not a pay by the hour hotel but only about two steps higher up on the food chain. The lobby stank of cigar smoke and stale coffee. Kirk didn't bother to even look at the scabby rail of a man behind the short thing they called a front desk.

The room was about twelve by twelve and had a double bed and a nightstand next to it. A fifteen-inch TV sat on a desk just beyond the foot of the bed. This room had a small shower and the bathroom was so small that it didn't even have a sink. In fact, the room didn't have a sink at all. Kirk packed up his clothes, which were thrown all over the floor and made sure to grab one of the white robes as a gift to himself. "Thanks. I needed one of these." Stuffing the robe into his Underarmor bag and zipping it shut, he thought how strange it was that a dump like this even had robes. A few blocks down from the hotel, Kirk had noticed a Avis rental car place and decided to walk. He slung his blue and black bag over his shoulder and put his sunglasses on. He had on a white t-shirt and light blue jeans with a hole in the left knee. He gritted his teeth each time he added weight to his sore leg, and the only thing that made it not hurt so much was that the punk that shot him was at the morgue. Avis had a bumbling blond behind a white counter when Kirk wandered in. She was a snot, and as soon as Kirk opened his mouth to explain his situation she confirmed this assumption. Kirk had to flash his badge to get the tall woman moving, and smashing up the last car didn't help any, but the FBI would take care of it. At least, that is what he told the dumb blond behind the counter.

Once he was behind the wheel, again Kirk felt much better. He requested the new Dodge Charger and they happened to have one left. In addition, to make him feel even more
not
so cranky,
it was black!

Kirk couldn't get that phrase out of his mind. "They said. Who is '
they
'?"
Gus had said 'they.'
He needed more info. He needed a hacker. "I need Mooch!"

Kirk had picked up Mooch a few years back for hacking into the eBay website. He put every auction as a '
buy it now'

for a dollar, and the site ended up in a lawsuit for the billions that were lost in that one day. Kirk didn't turn him in and no one even knew it was him, so Kirk let him off. It was somewhat funny and Kirk knew it was always good to have one of these guys owing you a favor.

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"It's time to pay up, kid." Kirk dialed his cell as he drove down the street, weaving in and out of traffic only to get stuck behind three yellow cabs.

"Pick up," Kirk grumbled. The other end of the line crackled and a young voice came on the line. "Hey, Mooch, I need that favor you owe me. I'll be online in ten minutes. Stay close to your phone." Kirk hung up the phone before Mooch could say anything more then hello.

Slipping his phone into his pocket, he turned down Fourth Street and looked for a coffee shop, he needed some caffeine, and if he got cut off one more time he was going to scream. There!

He spotted a small coffee shop called the
Mean Bean
. He pulled down the alley next to the brick building and parked in the back. The building was three stories tall and used to be apartments back in the fifties but had been renovated into a coffee shop, a law firm, and a few other businesses. Grabbing his laptop from the front seat, he locked the doors and went in the back door as if he owned the place.

The Mean Bean was decorated with different oversized coffee cups and the walls were painted mocha brown and black. Burlap sacks hung from the walls, along with pictures of coffee beans and newspaper clippings of the Mean Bean's first ribbon cutting ceremony, which made at least one local paper.

Kirk ordered a plain black coffee from the pretty browneyed brunette. She was very good looking, and on a different day, he would have flirted with her. "Thanks" was all he said today. He headed toward a table toward the back and sat down. He looked around as his laptop booted up; he noticed that the place had only a few people in it. One guy with a woven cap on was reading a book, and a couple of ladies were laughing and talking in hushed tones.

Dialing Mooch, he waited for an answer. The voice of a twenty-year-old kid sounded on the other end, and Kirk jumped in not waiting for Mooch to answer.

"Mooch, bring up the Transportation Department!"

________________________________________

THE NEXT DAY, MARK was released from the hospital with conditions. The Doctor told him that he had to take it easy for about a month, so his ribs could heal properly. He had three broken ribs, lacerations over most of his back and his hands were swollen and bruised. However, considering what he went through the doctor said he was lucky to be alive. He didn't feel that lucky, people who are lucky don't watch their family die and lose everything in one day.

Mark took a cab home even though Bill and Holly offered to drive him, but he didn't want to walk through the front door with them with him. He did not know what he would do or how he would feel going home to an empty house. The house still had K's sent in the air like a angelic presence and Mark closed his eyes and said more to try to strengthen himself for what he must do.
"You have to get through this Mark, there is
no one here to hold your hand and do this with you or for
you."
He walked upstairs, looking at all the family photos that hung on the wall. "
How could this happen
?" Just yesterday he was hugging little Sam. He could still feel her squirm with energy as she showed him her new toy puppy dog that she had named
woofie.

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K looked back at him from the bathroom with a smile. He could see her putting on makeup, and the way she looked, the way she smelled it was all gone!