through the silence like a thunder bolt.
“Shit,” he said, fumbling for his phone. “Hello.”
“It’s Amy down at the morgue,” a woman said in a nasally tone. “Strangest thing. We found a jump drive inside of your vic.”
Nicola leaned against the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. “A red jump drive?” he asked with a huff.
“That’s right,” she said, sounding a little surprised.
“Fuck,” Nicola spat. He was dead dog tired and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Looking at his watch, he wiped the stubble forming on his face. “Can you hang on to it until tomorrow?”
“Sure thing,” she said, preoccupied with her work.
“Thanks, Amy.”
“No problem.”
With that, he hung up the phone. He knew that in the back of his mind, he would be preo ccupied with the jump drive all night, but he desperately needed to rest.
Dialing Johnson, he waited.
“Yeah,” Johnson said, answering on the first ring.
Nicola spoke up louder even though he didn’t want to wake up Ivy because of the background noise from Johnson’s phone. Evidently, he was out partying. “Twist had my jump drive in his stomach,” Nicola said, hoping Johnson might go down and get it right then.
“He swallowed it?” Johnson asked.
“Yeah,” Nicola said yawning.
“What do you think is on it?”
“Evidently more than I gave him,” Nicola said, wondering if he didn’t need to go on and go himself. It was only a twenty-minute drive.
“Well, good. Maybe all isn’t lost,” Johnson said, moving to a quieter place. “So we should go down and pick it up tomorrow morning, after the news conference.”
“Shit, I already forgot about that. Thanks for reminding me. Yeah, we need to do that.”
Johnson paused to watch a woman walk past him. “I’ll hook up with you after Amway’s thing.”
“Alright. I’m going to hit the sack.”
“I’m going to get a lap dance,” Johnson said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Nicola shook his head. “See you in the morning, man.”
8
The smell of early morning eggs scrambled with real butter and then covered in three cheeses left a lingering fragrance of a well-balanced breakfast sorely missed in the air as Nicola finally rolled over in bed and realized that he was alone. His hand raked over the goose down comforter before he pushed his head up and looked over at the nightstand. 8:45 a.m.
Dammit. He had overslept again.
Grabbing the remote, he flicked his wrist at the television embedded in the wall and turned to CNN. Don Lemon was reporting on the situation in Afghanistan, while outside of Nicola’s large Victorian windows opened to let sunlight through the white plantation blinds, the drizzling rain subsided and blue skies peeked past patches of dark rain clouds.
He turned his attention back to the telev ision.
“On another note, Memphis, Tennessee is still in the headlines as they race to find the serial murderer and rapists of elementary chi ldren in the area. They are calling these the Baby Boy murders. So far there have been four young male victims ranging in age from six to nine, including two twin boys from Idlewind Elementary school only a couple of blocks from the West Precinct of the Memphis Police Department. The outcry from community has reached fever pitch. A joint news conference with the mayor of Memphis and the director of the Memphis police department is scheduled for later today. Dave Hammond is in Memphis with more. Dave,” Lemon said as the video cut to a backdrop of the police station downtown in Memphis where a man stood with a microphone.
Nicola grunted and changed the channel.
Great. That was all he needed - more press meant more pressure.
Of course, the media was portraying the d epartment as less than competent in finding the person or persons responsible for the baby boy killings, when in fact every resource available was being used to put an end to this continuing massacre. Unfortunately, the department’s public relations
“Shit,” he said, fumbling for his phone. “Hello.”
“It’s Amy down at the morgue,” a woman said in a nasally tone. “Strangest thing. We found a jump drive inside of your vic.”
Nicola leaned against the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. “A red jump drive?” he asked with a huff.
“That’s right,” she said, sounding a little surprised.
“Fuck,” Nicola spat. He was dead dog tired and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep. Looking at his watch, he wiped the stubble forming on his face. “Can you hang on to it until tomorrow?”
“Sure thing,” she said, preoccupied with her work.
“Thanks, Amy.”
“No problem.”
With that, he hung up the phone. He knew that in the back of his mind, he would be preo ccupied with the jump drive all night, but he desperately needed to rest.
Dialing Johnson, he waited.
“Yeah,” Johnson said, answering on the first ring.
Nicola spoke up louder even though he didn’t want to wake up Ivy because of the background noise from Johnson’s phone. Evidently, he was out partying. “Twist had my jump drive in his stomach,” Nicola said, hoping Johnson might go down and get it right then.
“He swallowed it?” Johnson asked.
“Yeah,” Nicola said yawning.
“What do you think is on it?”
“Evidently more than I gave him,” Nicola said, wondering if he didn’t need to go on and go himself. It was only a twenty-minute drive.
“Well, good. Maybe all isn’t lost,” Johnson said, moving to a quieter place. “So we should go down and pick it up tomorrow morning, after the news conference.”
“Shit, I already forgot about that. Thanks for reminding me. Yeah, we need to do that.”
Johnson paused to watch a woman walk past him. “I’ll hook up with you after Amway’s thing.”
“Alright. I’m going to hit the sack.”
“I’m going to get a lap dance,” Johnson said in a matter-of-fact tone.
Nicola shook his head. “See you in the morning, man.”
8
The smell of early morning eggs scrambled with real butter and then covered in three cheeses left a lingering fragrance of a well-balanced breakfast sorely missed in the air as Nicola finally rolled over in bed and realized that he was alone. His hand raked over the goose down comforter before he pushed his head up and looked over at the nightstand. 8:45 a.m.
Dammit. He had overslept again.
Grabbing the remote, he flicked his wrist at the television embedded in the wall and turned to CNN. Don Lemon was reporting on the situation in Afghanistan, while outside of Nicola’s large Victorian windows opened to let sunlight through the white plantation blinds, the drizzling rain subsided and blue skies peeked past patches of dark rain clouds.
He turned his attention back to the telev ision.
“On another note, Memphis, Tennessee is still in the headlines as they race to find the serial murderer and rapists of elementary chi ldren in the area. They are calling these the Baby Boy murders. So far there have been four young male victims ranging in age from six to nine, including two twin boys from Idlewind Elementary school only a couple of blocks from the West Precinct of the Memphis Police Department. The outcry from community has reached fever pitch. A joint news conference with the mayor of Memphis and the director of the Memphis police department is scheduled for later today. Dave Hammond is in Memphis with more. Dave,” Lemon said as the video cut to a backdrop of the police station downtown in Memphis where a man stood with a microphone.
Nicola grunted and changed the channel.
Great. That was all he needed - more press meant more pressure.
Of course, the media was portraying the d epartment as less than competent in finding the person or persons responsible for the baby boy killings, when in fact every resource available was being used to put an end to this continuing massacre. Unfortunately, the department’s public relations
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