Swerve Read online

  “Once would be plenty,” Romia answered, bringing her leg up between the shadows legs with lightening speed, but he was faster, blocking her. She slapped the gun away only to catch a blow to the head from the opposite hand. Unfazed, she knew the hit had been pulled back. It was as if the shadow was sparring with her and had no plans to kill her. With the agility and speed of a puma, she jumped to a crouching position, blocking quick-coming blows until she maneuvered herself out of the corner she was in. “What do you want? Who are you?”

  “As if I would answer you. What is the honor in that? The challenge?” the shadow spoke. His words came without any show of strain or effort while he swung on her effortlessly, maintaining remarkable speed.

  Finally, he stepped back from her and stood in the darkness. Dressed completely in black and with his face covered except for his eyes, his features were indistinguishable. But she knew the shadow as male; it was obvious by his build and heavy masculine voice—although he had masked it, whispering huskily when he spoke. As if both sensing the same feelings, she reached for her helmet, but not before he grabbed it. “Aw, the phoenix,” he said, smacking his lips sarcastically. “Elusive little bird…Rises from the ashes, they say. Tsk tsk. As if only you deserved to wear it.”

  Romia said nothing. She was thinking too hard, trying to get ahead of this shadow, trying to figure out what was happening to her. “I do deserve it,” she finally blurted, sounding like a little girl instead of the tough cookie everyone knew her to be.

  “I’ll determine that, but as for now, you’re just a criminal—a murderer.”

  “I didn’t kill that man.”

  The shadow laughed. “I know that. You were playing with me behind the bar when it happened. But then again, I’m a terrible alibi, don’t you think?”

  He was right, he was no better than the mysterious one-armed man from the movies. No one would believe her if she told them of the encounter with the shadow. She’d have to prove her innocence by finding the killer. It was the only way.

  “Who killed him?”

  “Who do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I…” Romia thought about the scene. “The woman!” Romia gasped. The man chuckled. “Who was she? You know, don’t you?”

  “Too easy, but a good start.” The shadow started for the window, but Romia charged at him to get her helmet back. A back kick sent her tumbling. This time he did not hold back. The blow stunned her and she hesitated before getting up, assessing her ribs. “You’ll get this back when you deserve it,” he said, disappearing out the window, taking her helmet with him.

  Romia struggled to her feet and ran to the window, only to see an empty alley below. How did he know I was here? she asked herself, feeling the chill of violation. Again she looked around the room. She needed to sleep. It was late, but she knew time was of the essence. Tomorrow would be too late. The trail would be cold. She had to get some answers…now!

  She had to get out of her boots and get into some travel gear. She had no gun, no jacket, no vehicle, and now…no lucky charm. All this dawned on her as she slinked through the dark streets, darting in and out of alleyways, avoiding streets where the night people were foraging for food and finding places to sleep warmly.

  Surviving.

  She felt vulnerable without her bike, jacket, and helmet. Those belongings that bore the symbol that represented her strength were missing now. The police had taken her bike; it was gone when she came down from the building to see if, just in case, they had left it. No such luck. Looking around, she assumed they had her jacket, too.

  Framed and hanging on the wall in her apartment, the tapestry was all she had left and she was determined to get it before the police got to her place. Like a cat in the night she moved through the crowded streets undetected without her normal attire.

  Chapter 5

  In the meantime somewhere over the Atlantic.

  The largest of the three men spoke little English. His native tongue was Arabic. He was Egyptian. The other two were from Cairo and their English was clearly understood. The airport lines were less complicated for English-speaking foreigners.

  They each carried bags that gave them the appearance of traveling businessmen who also wanted to enjoy a little California fun. Floral shirts and sunscreen also set the stage for their American vacation.

  Settling into the seats, they smiled at the flight attendant. She was tall and blond.

  “You gentlemen want champagne?” she asked, making her way through first class.

  “Yes, I believe we do,” one of the men answered for all three. The woman smiled. It was obvious her eyes caught sight of the ring on the Egyptian’s finger. The large ring clustered with diamonds in an odd shape on his middle finger had to have dazzled her.

  “Your ring is lovely. Fraternity?” she asked. Another of the English-speaking men looked at the ring and then smiled at her, lifting the Egyptian’s hand so she could get a closer look.

  “It’s a phoenix. Do you know what that is?”

  Her face scrunched up a little in a cute way. “Um, a mythological bird that, um, rises from the ashes, right?”

  “You’re close. It is a beautiful woman born to rule. She’s elusive and seductive and unaware of her power. With just a glance, she can set a world on fire and walk away unburned,” the man answered her. “Yet, she’s far from mythical. She’s standing right in front of everyone,” he added. The flight attendant smiled and blushed as if having just received a compliment. She had no idea what the man was talking about.

  Chapter 6

  “So you were there? Tell me what happened,” the officer from internal affairs barked. He’d been questioning Keliegh for the past hour about what he’d seen and not seen, and then, as if Keliegh hadn’t heard the questions, he asked them again—backward. It was bad enough that it was late and he was tired and not thinking clearly, but then they had further confused him by taking him to an interrogation center outside of his precinct.

  “I told you everything. By the time I got outside, Romia was kneeling over some dead guy, or whatever, and it was all circumstantial. The woman was screaming that Romia had shot the guy. But, no, I didn’t see her shoot anybody.”

  “But you say she was all bloody.”

  “No, I didn’t say she was all bloody. I said her lip was busted, she bleeds easily from the mouth, and—”

  “How do you know that?”

  Keliegh grimaced at the question. “We were partners. You learn stuff like that about your partner.”

  “Did she fight a lot? Get smacked in the chops a lot? What?”

  “She never fought in the street. But like in competition, if she took a hit to the face, she bled…a lot. It would usually take her out of a match.”

  “I heard she knew the guy she killed.”

  That was it. Keliegh stood. “Can I go now? I mean, you’ve accused her of murder enough for one night. Don’t you think you should be out there looking for the person who shot that guy?”

  “Who else coulda done it?”

  “The woman maybe? Who was she? Nobody seems to know!”

  “What woman?” the Internal Affairs officer asked.

  Just then, two more IA agents burst into the interrogation room. Keliegh didn’t know them, either. Strangely enough, Keliegh had never met any of the men he’d seen here tonight. He didn’t know these cats from Adam. He was ready to bust one of them in the mouth and get the hell outta there. He’d never been at the office of internal affairs before and he had to admit, they were serving him up every dish from the intimidation café—but he wasn’t shaken. Keliegh wanted nothing more than to get out of there so he could find Romia. She was scared. He’d seen it in her eyes. It was a look he’d never seen before and so it had to be fear…what else? Surely it wasn’t malice. She didn’t kill that guy…there was no way. For what? Feeling her up and causing her to get alcohol spilled on her jacket? Shooting him would have been rather extreme—even for her. Keliegh wasn’t buying it as easily as Aston
and Hank were. He’d seen them come from another room while he waited to be called. They avoided eye contact with him, which let him know they’d sold her out. Pricks.

  “We’re gonna be watching you, Detective Jack. You have a problem with the directional signal on your loyalty gauge. She killed a cop tonight.”

  “What?” Keliegh exploded, standing straight up. The men who came into the room stood as if guarding the door. Keliegh had to wonder if this clown was about to take him on a few rounds. Unconsciously, he puffed up just a little, flexing and breathing a little harder.

  “Now calm your ass down. What I’m saying is, you are all ready to hang up your badge for your ex-partner, who is clearly as guilty as sin, and—”

  “And you’re crazy.” Keliegh fanned his hand toward Maxwell as if to say, “Bah humbug.” “I don’t know what Hank and that punk Aston told you but, excuse me, Romia is a loyal cop. A good cop.”

  “A cop who snapped tonight and killed a fellow officer because he touched her.”

  “Oh, my ga…” Keliegh swagged his head in a negative argument. “That is so off base. You are so off base. What, did Aston and Hank tell you that too?”

  Maxwell Huntington just looked at Keliegh with an expression that read,

  “You can go, Detective Jack,” Maxwell Huntington, the head of IA, barked, dismissing Keliegh without further discussion. “You’re suspended until further notice.”

  Keliegh stood his ground for a moment before shaking his head in disgust at this whole matter and walking out. He wasn’t sure what to feel but he knew he had to find Romia.

  Chapter 7

  The block was quiet, but that was somewhat normal for Romia’s neighborhood. She lived on the “good” end of the Palemos, if you wanted to call it that. But then again, Romia had little fear, so Keliegh never really worried about where she lived as much as he worried about her, as a whole. Like now, he was worried sick. His stomach was even starting to cramp up. Fighting the growing emotions, blaming it on the late-night street activities, thoughts about his career and the strong feeling he was being tailed, Keliegh didn’t give into the fact that his only focus was on Romia’s safety. Keliegh didn’t give into the fact that his concern over her was clouding his reason. Why would she have come home?

  Idiot! Keliegh thought, mentally bashing himself. He just realized then, too, that he’d not even given Shashoni a second thought as he whipped into Romia’s complex.

  Locking the door of his car, he looked around for stalkers. It wasn’t as if he was hard to spot. Standing an easy six three or four in flat bare feet, if he was on the run he’d be caught in a moment. Maybe that was what was bothering him about Romia. She was not the kind of person who blended in well either. Maybe that was what he found so fascinating about her. She was so…different.

  Keliegh reached her door and slid his spare key in the lock. He’d had a spare since they were partners. She reluctantly gave him one after having accepted his—for emergencies, of course. One day, not long after he was promoted to detective, he found his spare on his desk; she’d returned it. He wasn’t about to do the same and return the key to her place. He had his pride, and…

  “…And good thing, too,” he mumbled, turning the lock and easing the door open. Not sure if his prints were still on anything in her place, considering how long it’d been since he’d visited, he made note of all he touched: the light, the door, the chair. The chair was thrown over. “Daaaamn!” he exclaimed, noticing that more than the chair was out of place. The apartment was a mess. He could see this as soon as his eyes focused to the dim light.

  The living room had been professionally, albeit ruthlessly, tossed. Looking for what? Who knows! Keliegh stepped lightly as he moved through the apartment, noting all the damage. “Cops? Why would they trash her place? This wasn’t cops. Who did this?” he asked himself, closing her refrigerator door that lay open. Romia’s bedroom was in no better condition than the living room: toiletries all over the floor, mirror on the medicine cabinet busted as if by a fist. He noticed her papers scattered all about her bed. He noticed her pictures torn off her walls; all the frames were broken. It was hard to tell if anything had been actually stolen with all the damage. Her stereo is still here, her television set…

  Her answering machine was blinking. Looking around, knowing he could be tampering with possible evidence that may be be important, Keliegh pushed the play button. The caller spoke in a foreign language that Keliegh did not initially pick up.

  “Wrong number, I guess,” he reasoned, continuing to look around the room. He noticed a picture Romia had of the two of them in uniform. They’d been friends a long time. He picked it up and closely examined it before tucking it in his shirt pocket. He then saw a picture of a woman holding a baby. He looked at the woman. She had Romia’s rarely shared smile. “Is this your mom?” he asked aloud. Sighing heavily, he tucked that picture in his pocket as well. “Where are you, Rome? Who did this?” he asked himself again before leaving.

  Chapter 8

  What a day it had been. It seemed as though whatever could go wrong went wrong. She had tried with all her might to make it to the wedding, or maybe she didn’t try all that hard. Seeing Shashoni in pink taffeta wasn’t what she felt the need to break her neck to do.

  But surely that scene would have been better than this one. Files lost, cap’n all crazy, and cramps like you wouldn’t believe. Tommy wanted to laugh, cry, and maybe kick somebody’s ass all at the same time. But instead she cleaned up reports. She was crazy about Keliegh but the boy couldn’t write a report if it meant his life.

  “You hitting The spot?” Aston and Hank had asked her on their way out hours ago. Her eyes must have said it all as they held up their hands in surrender. He heard Aston call her a bitch but she didn’t even care enough to call him on it. At that moment in time, she was, and she knew it. It was around one now, nearly time for those who had gone home earlier to be on their way back in. She glanced at her watch.

  “I’ma go home and soak in a hot—”

  “Turner! I need to talk to you for a minute,” the captain had called to her.

  “Shit,” she grumbled. It was a whistle and she caught it. “Alls I know is they better not run,” she grumbled, heading into his office to get the assignment.

  “Got a big one. It’s a shooting out in the view. Looks domestic,” he said, handing her the address. “Take Bishop with you.”

  “Bishop? Why don’t I just call Jack? He’s due in about an hour…”

  “Take Bishop,” the captain barked.

  Tommy felt her eyes roll but tried to fight it. She couldn’t stand Canasta Bishop. Maybe it was because Keliegh had slept with her. “Come on,” was all Tommy said to her, slapping her hand on Canasta’s desk. Canasta looked up at her with surprise showing.

  “Me?”

  “You.”

  They walked out the front of the station just as Hank was making his way back in. “Wow!” was all he said. “Wow what?” Tommy responded, half bored, half interested.

  “Man, is Jack in deep.”

  “What?” Canasta asked. Tommy consciously glared at her.

  “Romia shot somebody tonight and then kicked Aston’s ass and then pulled a gun on me and Jack. Tried to kill us—”

  “Romia?” both Tommy and Canasta said at the same time.

  “Yeah, it was crazy. She was all wild-eyed. I think she’s doing crack or something for sure. She just snapped,” he said, holding out his hands and bending them quickly as if breaking an invisible stick.

  “Where is Keliegh now?”

  “Well, he got all in the way of the arrest. I mean, he let her get away, so you know his ass is on the chopping block. Last I saw him he was under the light with IA.”

  “Oh my God! Canasta, go tell Cap’n you and Hank took this whistle—”

  “But—”

  “Just go tell him…Shit. I’ll take the heat. He can fire me or whatever tomorrow, but I gotta go,” Tommy said, leaping off the steps of t
he precinct and jogging to her car. She was done for the night and no further plans for Calgon to take her away.

  Chapter 9

  Reaching his house, he noticed the unmarked car across the street. “Wow, that’s discretion. I’m sure she’ll walk right into this trap.” Keliegh chuckled sarcastically, loosening his door key from among the mess of keys on his ring. Keliegh thought about Tamika “Tommy” Turner, his current partner. She’d not called all evening, which was a surprise. Normally she was the first to hear a whistle in the station house—especially with his having been suspended. Surely she was shocked to get the news. Surely his suspension was all over the place by now. Those IA guys were tough.

  And where the hell is Shashoni? He’d not heard a peep from her either, now that he thought about her.

  He glanced at his watch. He needed to call his uncle. It was late, but his uncle was probably still on duty.

  Keliegh’s uncle, Lawrence Miller, was a homicide detective in the Palemos district. Surely he’d gotten wind of this case and was probably on it, or pretty close to it at least. The body fell pretty close to his beat. Keliegh could get some untainted information from him. If nothing else, he could get some advice on what to do about his former partner being accused of a murder that there was no way she could commit, and even more advice on what to do if she did. The number rang as he jingled his keys at the door.

  “Miller.”

  “Hey, Unk.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s the news?”

  “Same ol’.”

  “So you didn’t hear?”