Ericka entered her apartment. The answering machine light blinked rapidly, but she didn’t run to it. She’d been in the custody of a mafia family for over a week. And she could immediately tell that someone had been in her apartment.
Knick-knacks were slightly out of place. Dust had settled around objects, but it was less thick. Picking one particular piece up, she noticed that the clean spot was slightly off pattern.
It had been moved.
She had most likely been bugged.
No, she wouldn’t be listening to her messages anytime soon. Let them think that she didn’t know. Keeping them off their guard and letting them think she was a simple nurse was her only safety net.
She took a shower then settled on the bed and leaned back on pillows. She read a book, watched television, and caught up on her bills.
Checking in at the office was a high priority, but she was going to have to be strategic about how she went about it.
In bed early, she studied the lights that floated across the ceiling. She refused to close her eyes. She saw things when she closed her eyes.
Suddenly morning sunlight was there.
She didn’t remember sleeping, but obviously she had.
She dressed quickly with the intent of going to the store, but she had a full fridge and her cabinets were full as well.
One thing she should do was make everything look as normal as possible. That meant going back to the community center which was nowhere near her apartment.
Drumming her fingers on the counter and staring at the tiled backsplash behind her sink, she tried to think what would someone do if they were used to getting support, but their normal place wasn’t close. They would just find another place, right?
Phone in hand, she dialed the community center in Queens.
“Hello?”
“Yes, I’m looking for a tragedy support group in the Bronx area?”
“Let me see.” Pause. “Oh, yes, it seems that the leader is in that area today just let me get the address for you.”
She raced to a bedside nightstand and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen. As the man rattled off the information she hurriedly jotted it down. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
The luck that Lyle met in more than one borough was not overlooked. She would count her blessings and just not over analyze the convenience.
The air was chilly, so she put on a sweater and grabbed her scarf. She decided to walk. The map on her phone had the building fairly close. Rubbing her hands together, she entered the appropriate room right as the tragic medical workers support group was starting.
She sat in the back. Part of her hoped that Joey would walk past and see her there. But why would he? He was with his mother, getting her settled, getting her taken care of. And that was where he needed to be.
Leaning back in the chair, Ericka listened to story after story of tragic events surrounding the medical field.
She could relate. Before, coming to the meeting had brought back memories of her time in the service. After the last couple of days, the memories brought to light were a lot worse.
When she closed her eyes at night, she saw injured people everywhere. Lying on brush, under brush. On rocks and in the dirt. They were everywhere, and she couldn’t help them.
“Thank you all for sharing today. Is there anyone else who would like to share?”
Lyle looked at Ericka, but she shook her head. Her hands were shaking. Now wasn’t a good time.
He dismissed the meeting, and she went to the snack table. Others had gathered there. One gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair and beard smiled at her.
She smiled back then turned to her pastry. She could feel him moving closer.
“I heard you share last week.”
“Oh.”
“It was moving. I’ve often felt the same way, like tragedy followed me. How have you dealt with it?”
“Um, I have a therapist.” She shoved the pastry in her mouth and talked around it. Maybe if he thought she was disgusting he would give up talking to her.
“Oh, a therapist. I should have thought of that.”
He waited. She waited.
“I should go.”
“Yeah, me too.” He took a few steps back.
Ericka hitched her purse strap higher on her shoulder and started for the door. It made a unique sound as it closed, almost like a whine then a squeak on the end.
After she was about ten steps onto the sidewalk, she heard the door close again. There would be others leaving when she left so it shouldn’t be a big deal, but her gut told her that she was being followed.
She moved a little faster. Her heart was hammering in her chest. The apartment building entrance was just a little bit farther, but an assailant could follow her directly inside, there was no key or pass code to enter.
Passing up her apartment, she continued on to the church. She ran up the few steps and entered the quiet sanctuary and slid across the back pew into a dark corner. She hadn’t yet officially made it to a service. One day it would happen.
The door opened at the back. She slid lower in the seat. A person walked to the front of the church and knelt. It didn’t look like anyone she remembered from the meetings.
Paranoia was setting in. Not that anyone could blame her.
She grabbed her purse, rewrapped her scarf, and headed for the door.
Rest. She needed rest.
****
Ericka hung out at home for two days before she ventured out again. She went to the market on foot and then back home. She’d yet to hear from the office. They were probably staying away because they thought she was being watched, and she agreed.
But she needed to get in contact with them. Not only did she need an update about the situation, but she was going stir crazy being locked up in the tiny apartment.
She put all the groceries up that she’d purchased. “Oh, dear, I think I forgot something.”
She spoke out loud for those listening before leaving and going back to the market. Instead of staying in the store, she slipped through and out the rear entrance. She was almost one hundred percent positive she was being followed, if not by the guy at the meeting then by someone in the Demarco family. She had to be careful.
Across the alley, she entered the basement of the adjacent building. Inside, she walked around steam pipes until she reached an exit. She came out on a sidewalk filled with dumpsters. The smell was rank, but at least it hid her presence.
Once through that area she reached a side road that led her to a cab hub. She grabbed the first cab available. It was going to cost a fortune to reach the office, but she didn’t have a choice.
The cab passed the bodega and a man paced in front talking on his phone in an animated fashion. Hopefully, he was her follower and she’d lost him for a while.
Traffic was kind, but the fair for the ride was not. She settled the bill and entered the building housing the office.
She turned the key, entered the elevator, pushed number thirteen, and descended. When the door slid open and she entered, all eyes riveted toward her. Greg dropped a stack of papers and rushed to her side. He appeared as if he was ready to hug her, his arms held out, then he let them drop to his side.
“Welcome back, Stone.”
“Good to be back.”
“We should debrief.”
“We should.”
They went to his temporary office. He settled on the corner of the desk closest to her chair.
His voice deepened. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m not hurt, if that’s what you mean.”
“Did you learn anything?”
She massaged her forehead before placing her hands in her lap. “Yeah, Tony Demarco is missing. Has been for a while. They don’t know where he is or what happened to him.”
“That’s the sense we we’re getting here as well. Anything else?”
“Not really.”
“How did you get free?”
She chuckled in an awkward way. “Joey let us go.”
Eyes flashing wide, he jerked backward with shock. “He did?”
“Yup. I think he was worried that people would be looking for Thomas.”
“Thomas?”
“Yeah, they took Thomas too. I guess they thought they needed more help with their mother than I could provide.”
“I see.” He paused. “How is the good doctor?”
“Not happy that I got him into a mess that I can’t explain.”
“I can see that.”
“I can’t say that I blame him.”
Greg massaged his face. “So, you said Joey let you go because he was worried about people looking for Thomas, but not you.”
“I told him I was a freelance nurse. No one would be looking for me in that line of work.”
“What about Mrs. Demarco?”
“Mary is doing well. I expect a full recovery.”
His eyes felt as if they were boring a hole through her. She tapped her foot. Drummed her fingers on her leg. Anything to try to distract from his intense gaze.
It wasn’t working.
“What did you find out about the people who bombed the hospital?” Changing the subject should help.
“For starters, they hit the wrong target. They were supposed to hit the garage, then commandeer an ambulance, and then steal Mary Demarco away in it. For some reason the leader of the crew got confused. The leader’s brother thought they were shooting blanks and when the leader died, his brother, Miguel, kind of lost it.”
“How do you know all this?”
“We found the financial transaction and Maggie finally calmed Miguel down enough to get the full story.”
“Who hired them?”
“That, we’re still working on.”
She bit her lip, sighed, and blurted, “What do I do now?”
“Well, it seems the avenue through Mary is closed, but if we find Tony, we might have another in.”
“Any leads?”
“Not a single one. We were hoping you would know more when you showed up, but obviously that wasn’t meant to be.”
“I guess not.”
She looked out at the people in the other room working hard on different cases. She’d never felt so lost.
Finding Big Tony would lead to gratefulness, and he and the family might be more willing to work for them. But they needed a clue as to where he might be.
There had to be a way. People didn’t just vanish.
Did they?
In Tony’s business they probably did.
****
“Did you get anything from the car ride?”
“No, boss. That doctor guy dropped the girl off at her place after about three hours of silence and then he brought the jeep to the house and left it at the gate. A cab came and picked him up.”
“No talking?”
“Well, the doc implied something more was going on, but that lady just said to take her home.”
Frank tapped his fingers on the desktop. He was at a loss. If the girl, Ericka, had tried to infiltrate the family to find out about Big Tony, she’d probably succeeded. Joey was ready to give the chick his left kidney.
Joey had always been easily deceived by a sweet face and a pretty tail. Frankie, not so much. Suspicion was what kept a man alive.
Grandpa had taught him that.
Mickey stood with his hands folded before him, awaiting further instructions. He was a good soldier.
“Follow her. Have others follow her as well. If she goes anywhere, I want to know about it. And keep checking that bug in her apartment. Dismissed.”
He was going to find his father. If Miss Ericka Stone had anything to do with his disappearance, then Joey’s plan for her safety would be meaningless. Frankie would personally see to that.