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“Kinda? This anonymous caller. Is she really anonymous? How does she know what she knows? Are you sure this isn’t a prank call?”
“I don’t know for sure. She said she works at the bed and breakfast and got a good look at him.”
“And she’s sure that he was the one?”
“Positive. She said she never forgets a face.”
“Wonderful. Keep me posted.”
Brenda looked out of her window to make sure Boyce hadn’t left her sight. He was still at the same table he’d been in fifteen minutes ago, eating tacos opposite Greg, the guy with the lotus flower tattoo on his face.
Brenda was quite surprised that the sheriff called her to tell her they’d found the detective who had killed Tim. He’d never done so in the past. In fact, she wasn’t even informed of occurrences related to the case, until she asked. Something was up, she could tell. Why did the sheriff suddenly need her for this?
Why were none of the cops making any indication that they were aware of the massive shooting that occurred at Mrs. Cumming’s place? She was certain they’d heard about it. The shooting was more than a neighborhood disturbance. It was a full-blown assault. The cops had to be in on it. Like everything else happening in Palm Island, the cops had swept the shooting right under the rug. Brenda knew now that she had to play her game smart or ris
k dying. The person she was going after wasn’t some petty criminal. He was hardened and cruel, smart and rich. The smallest mistake could mean the end of her stay in this world.
What’s Greg doing with Boyce? Brenda asked herself as she watched them eat and talk. What could they possibly be talking about?
It crossed her mind that Boyce could be interrogating the young man on the death of his friend. After all, the case wasn’t closed until the culprit was caught. However, there was something about Greg that pricked at Brenda’s mind. Perhaps it was the carefree and relaxed way he chatted with Boyce. His roguish carriage. Or his arrogant smirk. He didn’t act like someone whose friend had just been killed in one of the most gruesome ways possible.
However, Mrs. Cumming’s last words reverberated in her mind. There was a reason she had asked Brenda to see Greg. Boyce was still on her list of suspects. The entire police station was. However, she felt she could easily make headway with him. Plus, the guy with the facial tattoo had made frequent appearances in the Palm Island police files. So friend of Tim or not, Greg obviously had a role in the bigger picture. Brenda was determined to get to the root of it. Alone.
Greg and Boyce spent some more time talking. All the while, Brenda pretended to be a bored car owner leafing through pages of a beauty magazine. The sun reached the horizon through the time of Greg and Boyce’s discussion. The luminescence of the day was gradually falling. And more people were beginning to pour out into the streets. Towns like Palm Island that prioritized pleasure and entertainment always got more active in the night time.
Brenda espied both men from the top of the magazine. Suddenly, Boyce looked in her direction. Quick as lightning, she threw the magazine back over her face and prayed that Boyce hadn’t seen her. If he had, then she hadn’t just lost the element of surprise, but she’d have lost the case as well as her life. She counted down from ten, and then lowered the magazine a bit, so it could reveal her eyes.
Boyce and Greg were still at the table. Brenda felt a flush of relief. If Boyce had seen her, he didn’t show it. He went on talking like nothing had ever happened.
At last, both men got to their feet. They shook hands firmly and walked out. Brenda saw Boyce get into his car and drive off. Greg, she decided to follow at a distance.
She tailed Greg to his apartment, a handsome semi-detached house, fenced off by a thicket. From her vantage point, she could spot the heads of numerous palm trees within the thicket fencing. The palm trees brought her near-death encounter to her mind, but she shook that off quickly.
Brenda kept her distance until it was dark enough for her to move easily without detection. She checked her Glock to make sure it was loaded. Then she pulled open the glove box and pulled out two extra magazines, which she slipped into the pocket of her pants. She swiveled her arm gently to ascertain if the wound there was going to constitute a problem. She’d been too busy during the day to remember it. The pain didn’t register as strongly as it did at first, so she could move it a bit faster than before. However, it didn’t matter. Once the bullets came flying, Brenda knew she would have to forget it all.
Brenda took a cautious look around. To her advantage, the houses had plenty of space between them. It was as if the neighborhood’s developer had picked a spot, thrown rocks as hard as he could in all directions, and built houses where the rocks landed. A neighbor could be undergoing a robbery and absolutely no one in the vicinity would know. Brenda hoped that would be the case tonight. She intended to have a very long talk with this Greg, and she didn’t want anyone interrupting.
Brenda whipped out her pistol, screwed on a silencer, and held it at the ready in front of her. She started to creep towards Greg’s house. The house’s exterior was flooded by powerful lights, except for the backyard. The lighting at the backyard was mild, allowing the darkness from the night to spill into the compound and cling to the very air. Brenda began to carefully work her through the thickets. Some of the branches tugged at her hair, others scratched her face and the back of her hand, while the leftovers tugged at her clothes. Nevertheless, she forged ahead with only a silent cuss for not packing her hair properly.
She pulled through the thicket and walked into Greg’s backyard. Halfway through, she stopped abruptly. Standing before her was a silhouette in the darkness. She couldn’t discern the face, but she could tell by the stature that it was a man. Brenda didn’t have much time to debate within herself because the man sped towards her.
Brenda drew her gun instinctively, and made to squeeze the trigger, but he was too fast. He reached out with his hand, and hit the gun to the ground. Brenda felt the sting of his blow on her hand, but this was no time to give in to pain.
She found him holding a gun and went for that arm. Clutching it in both her hands, she twisted it over her head, biting through the pain. She stooped forward, flinging the man over her shoulder and unto the ground.
She heard a thud, and looked to see his gun right in front of her. They both reached for their guns at the same time. In no time, they’d cocked the gun and had it pointed at each other. Brenda stood above the man but he also held his position. Brenda was the first to break the silence.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“No, who are—” the man asked.
“Mack?” Brenda cut him off, recognizing the deep, gruff voice. “Mack, is that you?”
The man got to his feet slowly.
“Wait. Brenda? What...”
Both of them moved into a tight embrace.
