entrance.”
“What did he look like?”
“What did he look like?”
James hesitated. “Well, he was pulling off a cap, but he was too far away to really get a good look.”
Em watched, eager for information.
“James says he was pulling off a cap. Could be the cop.”
“Or not.”
“Not?”
“I don’t think he was a cop. It could be someone who is guarding the building. A security guard.”
“He said he was a cop. I’m pretty sure he was. He showed us his badge.”
“Badges are a dime a dozen. I don’t think it was a real cop.”
I digested the idea. Security guards wore uniforms and displayed bright shiny badges. If Vic Maitlin was being kept hostage here, someone had to be watching him.
“We had a cop come up to the car and tell us to keep moving.”
“No shit? A cop?” After all that had happened this day, James still sounded surprised. Hell, we shouldn’t have been surprised at anything.
“Em doesn’t think it’s a cop. She thinks it’s some guy in a uniform with a fake badge.”
He was quiet.
“James?”
“So someone is already onto us?”
“God, I hope not.”
“Skip, I’ve got ten digits and I’d like to hang on to every one of them.”
“James, it was your idea to get involved.”
Em frowned. “I think it’s a little late for the blame game, Eugene. Tell your friend we’re going to drive around the block and find another place to park. Maybe he should watch the alley from a little farther up.”
I passed on the information and we pulled out of the alley, went up two streets, cut back, and ended up on a side street where we could still see the front of the building. I could make out a row of concrete tables lining the sidewalk where old men played dominoes from early morning till the sun went down.
“Em, what do we have to talk about tomorrow?”
“There are times I wish I smoked.” She gazed out the window.
“What?”
“It gives you something to do. Purpose. Taking a drag on a cigarette, playing with the smoke, letting it stream out of your mouth. Blowing rings and tapping the ashes, it’s more the ritual than the actual smoking, isn’t it?”
“You wish you smoked so you could do all that and not talk about whatever it is you want to discuss.”
“Yeah.”
“Serious?”
“Could be.”
“Are you thinking about us not seeing each other any more?” I thought about it a lot. She was too good for me, and I’m sure it crossed her mind from time to time.
In the dim light I could see her smile as she leaned over and gave me a kiss on the lips. “No. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I leaned back and drifted off. I had just hit sleep mode and was lazily watching a fishing stream with trout and bass that became our muddy ditch, and James was casting this huge garbage can lure into the brackish water when the world exploded.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I HEARD IT, I FELT IT, and I saw it as my eyes flew open. The upstairs windows exploded in a blast of shattered glass as a ball of fire roared out of the building. In less than a second the street in front was blazing with orange chunks of flame thrown from the stucco and brick building, and we watched spellbound as a brilliant blaze shot into the black Miami sky, the inferno engulfing the structure.
Em started the car and peeled out.
“Where the hell are we going?” Talk about feeling the heat. I was sweating from fear and the intense fire from half a block away.
“Anywhere. We’ve got to get out of this.”
James. “Jesus, James was back in the alley.” I frantically dialed his cell phone. No answer.
It rang and rang. Finally voice mail.
“The person you have called is unavailable at the moment. Please leave a message and-” I hung up. I dialed again. Same thing.
“Em, we’ve got to check out the alley.”
“Skip, are you crazy? That fire is roaring back there.”
She was three blocks down, moving at a good clip, and had run one stop sign already.
“Em-”
“Shit!” She spun the wheel, making a sharp U-turn in the middle of the deserted street. “Call 911.”
“Yeah.” I did.
She raced back the way we came, squealing to a stop as we saw the parking lot. The two Chevys were swallowed in flames. One had exploded and flaming pieces littered the melting blacktop. I jumped from the car and ran toward the alley, tasting the thick smoke and holding my arm across my face, trying to keep from filling my lungs with the fumes from that noxious cloud. The fierce heat cooked my skin and I thought for a moment I might pass out. I hit the back alley on the run and stopped short, peering into the haze. White-hot flame spewed from the vehicle, more black smoke pouring into the alley. There was nothing I could do.
I jogged to the T-Bird, coughing, gagging, and choking.
“What?”
“Jesus Christ, Em, it must be the truck. It’s a roaring inferno.” We could hear the sirens in the distance, whining with the occasional barking of the horns as they sped toward the blaze.
“James?”
All I could do was shake my head.
“Skip, is there anything we can do?”
There was nothing.
She stepped on the gas and we went speeding down the street, as far away from the burning building, the incinerated truck, the uniformed man, and the fire engines as we could. I was leaving my best friend behind, and I had never felt so helpless.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I WAS TWELVE YEARS OLD when my father left home. My sister was eight and Mom was thirty-two. I remember things about him, like he smoked Camels. He worked in a machine shop and Mom would sweep up metal shavings that he tracked into the house on a daily basis. I’m not sure why he walked out. I don’t think it was another woman because he didn’t remarry. For a while anyway. I remember he smelled like tobacco and he’d bring home red-hot candies and we’d eat them until our mouths burned.
James was six months older than I, and I leaned on him as much as a twelve-year-old can lean on another twelve-year-old. I didn’t go home from school because the pain was too much to bear. I’d go to James’s house and Mom would end up calling, wondering where I was. I think she was glad I had a home away from home because it made life easier for her. One less problem in her life.
