Paint It Black

Louis glanced at Wainwright. He calmly picked up the mike and radioed the surveillance car to stand by. He killed the ignition.

“Don’t forget, you’re only an observer,” Wainwright said.

Louis nodded and the cruiser’s doors opened. Wainwright started across the street at a stiff trot, Louis a few feet to his left. Levon heard the doors slam and looked up at them.

A thick stream of smoke rose from his lips as his mind tried to grasp what was happening. His eyes scoured the street for an escape route.

He chose backward, through the store.

Louis ran up the wooden steps, slamming into the door ahead of the others. Someone screamed and a bottle fell somewhere behind him. A flash of orange and another slammed door.

Louis jumped over a stack of Budweiser, skidded around a corner, and stopped cold in a dimly lit storage room. He pulled in a quick breath, then ran forward, hearing a clamor of footsteps behind him. Radio traffic filled the small store and suddenly there was a rush of voices and bodies.

A door banged open, flooding the room with sunlight, and Levon was gone. Louis followed him out, blinking against the sun.

He spotted Levon sprinting down the dusty street, his powerful legs pumping. Louis knew he wasn’t going to catch him. Then, suddenly, there was a kid on a bike, and Levon went crashing into him.

The kid skidded into the dirt and Levon scrambled to his feet. There was just enough time. Louis launched himself, sailed over a trash can, and fell on Levon’s back. It knocked the air out of him but he hung on. But Levon was not going down. Louis clung to his back, feeling the man tense to buck him off.

One of Wainwright’s men caught up and grabbed Levon’s arm, but Levon threw him into a fence as if he were a bag of laundry. Louis clung to Levon’s back.

“Stop!” Louis grunted. “Stop!”

“Fuck you! Get off me!”

Levon veered and slammed his shoulder—and Louis—into a tree.

“Shit!” Louis yelled, gripping Levon’s thick neck.

Levon lunged to his right now, crushing Louis again against another palm tree.

Pain shot through his back. He couldn’t breathe. But he hung on as Levon dragged him down the street.

Suddenly they were out in bright sun. Louis could see a flash of silver blue. Water, they were near water. He was slipping and he dug his fingers into Levon’s neck, trying to put pressure on his throat, but he couldn’t get a grip. Levon staggered out onto a dock, jerked around, and slammed his body into a piling. Louis lost his grip and flew off the dock.

He bounced against a boat and hit the water face-first. Salt water rushed into his nose and he fought his way to the surface. He shook the water off, gasping for breath. It took a second for him to realize he could touch bottom.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a motor. He spun around and saw Levon crouched in a small motorboat. Levon hit the throttle and the boat churned away.

Louis dragged himself up onto the dock. His face was hot with humiliation, his shoulder was on fire, and there was a strong ache creeping up his back. He heard voices and looked up to see Wainwright and the deputy who had been hurled into the fence ru

They stopped short and watched as Levon’s motorboat became a glint against the shimmering water.

“Notify the sheriff, Candy,” Wainwright said tightly. “Tell him Levon is heading east from Sutter’s Marina toward the mainland. Kill the roadblocks on the causeway. And see if you can find the owner of that boat. Go!”

Candy spun away. Wainwright went over to Louis, who was sitting on the dock, head bowed.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I think.” He couldn’t move his shoulder. It was probably dislocated. “You have any idea where he’s going?” Louis asked.

Wainwright squinted toward the far shore. “Depends on how much gas he’s got. There’s a million places he could put in.”

Louis wiped his face. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold him.”

Wainwright pulled his gaze from the shoreline back to Louis. He held out a hand. “You’re lucky he didn’t kill you,” he said flatly. “You saved me a lot of paperwork.”

Chapter Six

Louis slid off the X-ray table and stepped out the door, squinting into the bright lights of the hallway. At first, all he could see was Wainwright’s bulky silhouette standing near the door to exam room one. He slowly came into focus, the look of irritation on his face unmistakable.

Louis let out a breath and went toward Wainwright, holding his shoulder. He was bare-chested but still wearing his damp jeans and soggy Nikes. As he neared Wainwright, Wainwright heard the squeaking and looked up, his eyes dropped to Louis’s bruised chest.

“That’s going to hurt in the morning.”

Louis nodded as he passed him, going into the exam room. “I know.”

Wainwright followed him, leaning on the door. Louis slipped onto the table, grimacing as he put weight on his left arm.

“Any sign of Levon?” Louis asked.

“Not yet. He’s not smart enough to evade us for long. We’ll find him.”

Louis rubbed his shoulder, wishing the doctor would hurry up. He’d been here over an hour. “You don’t have to wait,” he told Wainwright. “I’ll get home.”

“How? Cabs will charge you an arm and a leg to take you out to the islands. I brought you here, I’ll wait.”

Louis glanced at the mirror above the sink, and could see Wainwright staring at him. He wished Wainwright would just go. His ribs were throbbing and he felt like a fool. Tossed into the water like a damn fish.

“Louis, we need to get a few things clear here.”

Don’t lecture me.

“Have you ever done PI work before?” Wainwright asked.

“No.”

“The first thing you learn is that you don’t have a badge on anymore.”

“I know that.”

“I’m not so sure you do. You had no right to chase Levon, no authority to apprehend him or anyone else. I told you that you were just an observer, there out of courtesy. You don’t listen very well.”

Louis stirred with anger. “I figured I could catch him.”

“And what if you had hurt him in the process? What if you had choked the fucker by accident? What if he fell into the water and drowned? What then? You’d be charged with assault or manslaughter and my department would be sued and I’d be fired. And I don’t want to be fired.”

Jesus. His instincts had just taken over. When Levon ran, he went after him. He hadn’t given it a second thought.

“I don’t have a problem with you hanging around trying to help Roberta Tatum,” Wainwright said. “But you don’t have the right to detain people, assault anyone, or run after goddamn suspects. You can hang out at the office, and ask all the questions you want. But that’s all. The next time you touch a suspect, you better make damn sure it’s in self-defense.”

“I just reacted, that’s all.”

“You’re not hearing me. It’s more than that. I don’t want you dead, either.” Wainwright turned toward the wall. When he didn’t say anything for several seconds, Louis snuck a glance at him.

“I can take care of myself,” he said.

Wainwright turned. “Before I joined the bureau, I spent a few years on a beat in Michigan. We had this hotshot reporter who begged us to take him on ride-alongs. Most times, he was bored stiff. Then one night, we got caught up in a domestic where shots were fired. I told him to stay in the car. He didn’t.”

Louis shook his head slowly. “He wasn’t a cop.”

Wainwright stared at him. He didn’t have to say it. It was in his eyes. Neither are you.

The doctor came in, holding the X ray. “It’s not dislocated, nothing’s broken,” he told Louis. “It’s bruised and you’ve strained the tendons, but it’ll be fine after the swelling goes down. I’d keep it stationary for a few days, though.”

Louis slid off the table and picked up his shirt. He tried to put it on without straining the shoulder, but it dropped behind his back and he couldn’t reach it. Wainwright stepped forward and held the sleeve out for him. Louis slipped into it.