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  Romia was dying to look at him but she knew she’d better get out of there. Her coming back to the scene of the crime was not what normally would have been expected, even she knew that. Only on television did the perps come back to the murder scene…unless they are psychopaths and just dropping in to watch the fire. The thought made her suddenly swoon. Maybe I am crazy, she reasoned. Swerved…

  “Why would she do that?” Mike asked. “This would be the last place she’d come. You fellas must be new around here.”

  “You could say that,” one of the men said before chuckling.

  Romia moved away from the bar and on through the tavern toward the door, but before she could get out, the door opened and a third man walked in. The man was dressed in a business suit, complete with a tie that was clipped with a unique-looking clip. He was big and dark skinned, sporting a shiny ring loaded with gaudy-looking stones. He didn’t look like any plainclothes cop she’d seen recently. Their eyes met for one second before he yelled out something in another language. It sounded…French, maybe. A dialect…maybe Arabic.

  Arabic? she thought, wondering why that came to her mind.

  Suddenly swinging on her, she blocked him and countered with a punch-and-kick combo, but he blocked, coming back with the same. Despite his attire, he was agile and skilled in martial arts—a mixture of many skill levels and different schools. The fight was on and, by all appearances, about to get vicious.

  The employees cleaning tables backed out of the way as the two of them fought around the room. With one of his hard punches, Romia tumbled over one of those clean tables, landing on her feet. His grace was gone then as he turned into a wrestler straight from the WWE, picking Romia up and throwing her onto the stacked-up chairs in the corner. She hit them hard and rolled onto the floor, covering her head for protection from the crashing fold-up chairs, but was back on her feet within seconds. The two other men joined in, but were not as challenging as the big guy in the fancy threads. With a side kick to the face, Romia knocked one of the men out cold. But the other one swung on her, catching her off guard. She avoided a face punch, however. The big guy stepped closer and now she was cornered against the wall.

  “You fellas have names?” she asked. Her fists were up to protect her face. She was breathing hard but far from ready to surrender. “Or is that a secret you plan to take to your grave?”

  “Ha! You and your cocky attitude…just like your father,” the big guy said, smiling broadly. “You truly are a phoenix.”

  Confusion filled Romia’s brain. She thought of the tapestry piece taken from the frame, the beautiful handcrafted stitchery that depicted the redivivus bird. “Phoenix? My father?” Noticing the fists of the big guy, she saw the ring up close. “Phoenix?” she asked.

  “Don’t play coy. We know who you are—but clearly you won’t live to know as much,” the smaller man said, flipping out a switchblade. The larger one looked at him, and then pulled out a larger knife, showing his compliance with the plan to slice and dice over the first plan of just pummeling her to death.

  “So, I’m starting to think you’re not the police,” Romia said, sarcasm dripping from her lips. She felt at home in this battle and was ready to take it to the death.

  “Hey!” Mike called out, rising from behind the bar with his gun pointed. But the smaller man’s aim shut off Mike’s voice and ended his intent.

  The young female employee was still in the bar area. She had been standing against the wall, paralyzed with fear until that moment. She screamed, seeing the switchblade sticking from Mike’s throat.

  The smaller man drew his gun then, and took aim at the screaming girl.

  Romia’s instincts were instantaneous. She went for the gun, snapping the man’s wrist in the process. He screamed in pain but was silenced when Romia, in one movement, broke his neck. She used him as a shield to block the inward jab of the larger man’s blade. In a fluid motion, she moved him in front of her just in time. The blade went through his arm, catching the fabric of her hoodie, cutting the fabric, nicking her skin.

  “Come on!” the young man yelled, coming from the back room where he had taken cover. He ran out, pulled the young female to him, and slammed the back door of the bar, making their escape.

  Romia was livid. She could no longer see straight. Visions of her mother’s smile were all that filled her eyes now. “Romia,” her mother called. “Slow down, honey. Faster isn’t always best. You could get hurt, and you know Mother would be devastated if something happened to her little heartbeat.” she said.

  The tapestry flashed before Romia’s eyes now, as the voice repeated the words. My little heartbeat…slow down…your father…the Phoenix…you don’t know who you are.

  The car barreling toward them was all Romia could see, as her mind went back in time. “Mama!” she screamed out…then and now!

  As if suddenly possessed, Romia’s rage was taken out on the big man. Combinations of her immediate conception came to her with remarkable quickness. Again and again she pummeled the man’s face and chest, taking his breath away until finally a slice from the side of her hand to his throat caused him to gasp and choke. Blood spurted forth from his open mouth from a swift kick to his chest. He stumbled backward, but Romia didn’t stop there. She kicked high, reaching his chin. The sound of the man’s bones cracking under her foot sickened her—much like the sound of her mother going over the hood of that car.

  He fell, bleeding from his mouth and nose, his face resembling a prize fighter’s. He was dead.

  Without a doubt, Romia figured real cops were coming. But it didn’t matter at that moment, not really. Out of instinct, though, she quickly rifled through their jackets for ID. She found none. Regardless of who they were, there would be no way the authorities who headed her way would understand her side of things. There was no way they would believe that she had not killed Mike, instead of having killed on Mike’s behalf.

  Rushing out the back door, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. Her Ducati with her helmet hanging from the bungee sat waiting. “My God!” she screamed, rushing toward her bike. She wanted to hug it, kiss it as she would a lost love, but instead she mounted it, slammed her helmet on her head, and took off.

  “They’re here and they found her. We’re out of time now,” the Shadow said in Arabic, running while talking on the small transmission device. He was headed toward the freeway overpass.

  “Dammit! How did they find her?”

  “I don’t know, but they beat me here. I suppose after tearing up her apartment they decided to use their brains instead of their brawn. So whatever game you were playin’ with her, it just got stepped up a notch.”

  “God, yes, to level ten. We’re gonna have to pull her in.”

  “Like that’s going to be easy. She’s scared. She doesn’t even realize what she’s done.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Use whatever means at your disposal to get her to me.”

  “At least she’s mobile again. I gave her back the bike.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m not concerned with me…nobody is. Remember, I’m already dead,” he said, a sick chuckle following his words. Closing the transmission by tapping the end button on his wrist band, he watched the cars passing under the overpass until finally he saw his chance. He leapt to his escape, landing in the open trailer of a large, slow-moving truck that was right on time.

  Chapter 14

  The Coroner’s Office

  Yes, it was a great place to start. Keliegh was a good investigator—so was Romia, for that matter. She had detective in her blood but never wanted it. A few years younger than him, she was happy working a beat. She said it kept her close to the earthlings. “Hmmm.” Keliegh pondered her words for a moment, and then laughed at what her comment implied about the rest of the police force.

  Keliegh had called the station to speak with the chief, but found him unavailable, again. “Of course. Press conference. Big time,” Keliegh reasonably assumed. Turning onto Gra
nd Boulevard, he headed to the morgue in the Palemos precinct. The body was not in the morgue his precinct used, so he was certain now that the Palemos guys had the collar. He had no idea why his uncle was still playing dumb about last night’s shooting, but then again, maybe he truly didn’t know everything. The coroner on the scene would have taken the body to this morgue if, indeed, Palemos guys had the case. If nothing else, he’d get a chance to check in with his uncle again if the body was here.

  “And it would explain why I didn’t know any of those cats,” he told Tommy when she checked in.

  “Make sense. I’ll call in a couple of favors and see who caught the whistle over there, since your uncle didn’t know,” Tommy assured him. “Oh, and I got called in, so I’m on tonight. I’ll ask around fa sho then about your suspension.”

  “Thanks,” Keliegh hung up.

  A call to his uncle was now in order. “Hey, uncle,” Keliegh greeted his Uncle Lawrence.

  “Funny you should call. I was going to call you. So, you a soothsayer now? Seems ya former partner has lost her damn mind a little bit. How’d you predict it?”

  “Predict it? You can’t predict what has already occurred.”

  “Yeah, but how did you know?”

  “What are you talking about? You’re talking like something just happened.”

  “It did. I’m here now, wading through a wheelbarrow full of dead bodies. So, is she on some kinda killing spree or what?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m at this tavern you folks visit. Seems your partner did some killing up in here about an hour ago.”

  “What? No. She’s being framed for what happened last night. I don’t have a clue what happened this morning.”

  “I don’t know anything about last night. I just know that about an hour ago, she just showed up here and murdered a bartender and three early-morning patrons. We got a call from some pretty scared employees who saw it all go down.”

  “What?”

  “Look. I’m no judge, and thank the Lord I’m not on the jury, but your girl is a swerve—pure and simple. We got witnesses say she came in and did a slice and dice…no nice.”

  “Well, they’re lying!” Keliegh yelled. “I’m telling you. Romia didn’t do it.”

  “You give me a bit more than just your word and I’ll listen a bit harder, okay? But for now, I’m cleaning up your ex’s dirty work. Won’t take but a minute to get the DA to issue a warrant and my chief to put out an APB on your girl—”

  “Wait! Don’t do it, uncle. Let me get over there and—”

  “Today I’m not your uncle. I’m a cop doing my job, Kel, and…” Lawrence inhaled heavily as he often did when on a crime scene. He had a weak stomach for blood. His heavy sigh told Keliegh all he needed to know about what his uncle was seeing. It had to be pretty bloody. “It’s ugly here,” Lawrence then confirmed.

  “Okay. Okay,” Keliegh stammered. “Look, I know you won’t believe this, but last night this guy got shot right there at the same tavern.”

  “What!”

  “That’s what I was saying.”

  “Nothing happened here last night. There was no indication that anything happened here last night. The witnesses didn’t say anything about a shooting last night.”

  “I was there. But I mean…” Keleigh ran his hand over his smooth waves. “Hell, I can’t find the body. It’s like it never happened. The guy she supposedly killed isn’t in our morgue and you didn’t even know about it. So I’m here now wondering if he’s in your morgue.”

  “Probably not. I mean, if we got this call, we’da got last night’s call too. But let me know if you find him. Pretty damn freaky.”

  “Who are the victims?”

  “Victims? Besides the bartender, Mike, we have no idea.”

  “You’re sure it’s Mike?”

  “Yeah, that much I know for sure.”

  “Damn,” Keliegh sighed. “Okay, okay. Give me a minute before you call in the big dogs on Romia. Those witnesses…they’re lyin’.”

  “Keliegh, I don’t know, they said it was Romia. They know her.”

  “They are lying. I swear it.”

  “Bring Romia in,” Lawrence said, sounding flat and cool. Keliegh knew his uncle and knew he wasn’t gonna budge on that decision. Keliegh also knew he had only a short time to do it. Lawrence Miller was a straight-and-narrow cop. As soon as his ink dried on his report, he would be on his way to the DA’s office, and that would be the end of Romia.

  “Okay,” Keliegh reluctantly agreed before hanging up.

  Keliegh walked into the coroner’s office. The receptionist was sitting at her station. He flashed his badge. “I’m Detective Jack, South City Homicide, here for the case of the John Doe who came in last night—shooting near the Palemos—a place call The Spot.”

  The receptionist quickly looked through her files. “Nothing,” she answered mindlessly, cracking her gum. She looked bored.

  “Well, maybe he got a name between the scene and here. Who was on the shift last night?”

  “Me. And, no, nothing came in here last night. Nothing…like I said.”

  “I know the Palemos is a busy place on a Saturday night, but this guy was white and—”

  “Don’t care if he was purple. We had no Does, no Dids, nobody came in last night. Actually, we had a slight miracle last night. Nobody was shot and killed in the Palemos. Can you believe that?” She was shocked and her facial expression reflected that. “Stabbed, poisoned, and even a hari-kari, but no shootings.”

  “You are so wrong, because I was there!” Keliegh popped off, sounding argumentative and ready to dispute the matter.

  The woman rolled her eyes and smacked her gum, popping a small bubble.

  Just then, Maxwell Huntington appeared from the elevator that spilled into the lobby. He was talking to another man whom Keliegh didn’t recognize. There was something fishy about Maxwell Huntington, and Keliegh wanted to figure this guy out. He didn’t seem like a regular IA guy. He was slick and well groomed, controlled and, well, shady. He seemed to show up at the right time at all the wrong places…wrong as far as Keliegh was concerned. Like now. What is he doing at the morgue?

  “You wanna look at my register? I mean, I don’t miss dead bodies and I would have seen him if he had come in.” The woman at the counter was getting loud, much to Keliegh’s chagrin, because Maxwell looked up from his conversation with the shorter man he walked with.

  “Detective Jack, what brings you among the dead?” he asked. Keliegh tried to think fast on his feet. Admitting that Romia had brought him there might not be the right thing to say.

  “I was just…I mean, I was making sure that…”

  “You’re suspended. I suspended you. Why are you here? You waiting to get a look at the other men your partner murdered?” Maxwell barked the question. “They should be here any minute.”

  “You know, about that suspension, my partner didn’t seem to know that I was suspended. I thought it odd that—”

  “Under the circumstances, I wouldn’t think you would want your colleagues to know how close you came to an obstruction charge and a few nights in jail. I’ve managed to work with your chief to keep this all pretty quiet…well, until this morning. Now it’s outta my hands,” he said, raising his hands as if in surrender.

  “Oh, so I was looking at an obstruction charge, huh?” asked Keliegh, his brow furrowing. “And how in the world are you keeping it quiet when Ro…?” He wanted to challenge Huntington further but the questions wouldn’t come, not in light of what his uncle had just told him. “So what are you charging Romia Smith with?”

  “Your ex-partner is a killer, or are you blind and stupid? It was all over the news this morning…breaking news. Romia Smith is a killer.” Maxwell’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “So what do you think we’re gonna get the DA to charge her with? And if you know where she is, I suggest you tell me,” Maxwell requested.

  His bluntness caught Kelieg
h off guard. “Why would you think I’d know?”

  “Because of your relationship.”

  “Relationship?”

  “You used to be partners, moron. Unless there’s more you didn’t tell me about?”

  “Oh,” Keliegh said then, trying to hide his guilt over having seen Romia last night. “No, there’s nothing more,” he lied.

  Maxwell looked around and then back at Keliegh. He licked his full lips and lowered his voice. “Look, I know there’s more. I know there is,” he said. “But listen to me…I also think Romia might be innocent.”

  “Innocent. You think she’s innocent. Since when, man? You all but sent out a lynching party last night…and now? Now with what’s just happened, you expect me to believe you and everyone else aren’t out for blood?”

  “Romia is in danger, in case you haven’t noticed. And I’m trying to help her.”

  “Danger? I thought she was dangerous. Make up your mind.”

  “She’s apparently snapped and I need to reel her in. She’s on a rampage. We suspect some revenge-type activity. We think maybe it has to do with her mother’s murder. We have reason to believe that Romia is out for vengeance. The man she shot at the bar last night was involved in her mother’s death. Didn’t she tell you that?”

  “What the hell! She never told me…” Keliegh attempted to catch his words up with his thoughts so as not to say more than he wanted to. “Her mother died when she was a kid.”

  “Sorry, I thought you knew. Her mother was murdered three years ago. Perhaps you don’t know Romia as well as you thought you did. Romia is trained in martial arts with skills to reach a deadly level. You thought she was doing this for the police department’s benefit. No, but for her own vigilante mission. She’s been using the police force as a resource to locate the people responsible for killing her mother. She’s killed five men in less than twenty-four hours and—”