Ashes to Ashes (42 page)

“I can see how that could happen,” Oscar
grunted.

“The pill became a weapon,” Ashe continued.
“In more ways than one, I guess.”

Footsteps began to echo from another hallway,
possibly the initial hallway Ashe and Oscar had entered when
following Dr. Webber. Ashe stiffened, understanding what the sound
of the firm steps meant. Phillips had arrived with a crew to tie
down the crime scene.

It didn’t take long for the group of men to
travel the length of the halls to arrive at Ashe and Oscar. Before
Detective Phillips acknowledged them, he began to bark orders to
his men, who rushed like soldiers into battle. They seemed to be a
mixture of CSI and uniforms. Detective Phillips sent two uniforms
to speak to the doctors and nurses that had been anywhere near the
room where Norman Bones was knifed. He put two more uniforms at the
door, where they placed a yellow ribbon cordoning of the area. He
then ordered the two CSI techs into the closed off room, an order
they obeyed with white gloves and equipment bags in hand.

“Can we have a word?” Oscar asked
Phillips.

Phillips nodded and followed Oscar down to
the end of the hall. Their voices began in low murmurs but quickly
escalated into arguing. The sound bounced from the walls and became
louder and louder each time it hit. By the time words reached Ashe,
he could almost hear every syllable clearly.

“You fucked up,” Oscar spat. “Where were the
guards? You had Norman Bones in their prime and ready for
questioning. He would have spilled his guts…even if you had to
offer him a deal. How did you not see this possibility happening?
Where were the fucking guards?”

“Why are you in my face, detective?” Phillips
wanted to know.

“Because you fucked up.”

Phillips sighed. “I made a call. I needed my
men where they were, questioning the witnesses.”

Oscar pointed toward the room. “
He
was
our most important witness. And someone managed to put a sharp
knife in his formerly beating heart. And now he is dead and so is
our trail to Scott and Lucky Barrett.”

“And I can’t do nothing about that, now,”
Phillips told him and sighed. Before letting Oscar a chance at
rebuttal, Detective Phillips turned and walked away, back to Ashe
and the crime scene. He had a job to do. Cleveland was
his
town and Oscar was a guest. And maybe Oscar had worn out his
welcome.

Oscar waved Ashe over to him. “It’s time to
go,” he said to the psychologist. “Let them do their job. They
apparently do not need our common sense.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just get in the damn car, Ashe,” Oscar
exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “You ask too many
questions.”

The walk back to Oscar’s car was a tense one,
filled with silence and heavy breathing. No words were exchanged
and Ashe was almost thankful for it. Once they were back in the
vehicle, Oscar just sat there. He didn’t put the keys in the
ignition. With his head laid back against the headrest, he closed
his eyes. He was simply still. Oddly so. Ashe sat next to him,
uncomfortable, unsure what to do or say.

Oscar’s cell phone shattered the calm and
caused Ashe to cry out. After giving him a raised eyebrow, Oscar
answered by turning it directly onto the speakerphone. “You better
have something for me, Ginger.”

For a second Ginger didn’t talk, thrown off
by the tone in Oscar’s voice. “I do, my boy. I scanned that partial
picture into my computer. I got some other computer geeks to help,
too. We combed the internet for a match…and bingo…we got one.”

“Enough with the foreplay,” Oscar
growled.

“It’s a picture of the Barrett family,”
Ginger said. “It came from the Cleveland Post. It was taken at some
kind of fancy function several years ago.”

Ashe considered the implication. “The entire
family is in it?”

“Most of it,” Ginger responded. “Many
generations of rich and powerful assholes in one black and white
photo. Shades of gray don’t really show the arrogance of the lot,
you know.”

“What is the point, Ginger?” Oscar
barked.

Ashe intervened. “Names? Does the photo have
the names of who is in it?”

“At the bottom,” Ginger replied. “Why?”

“I have an unexpected hunch,” Ashe explained.
“Read me the names, please.”

“We don’t have time for
name that
Barrett
,” Oscar groaned.

Ashe swiftly shushed him. “Enough with the
attitude, Oscar. I want to find my son and you are not helping. Go
on, Ginger.”

Ginger began to read the names. Ashe stopped
him midway through.

“Amber Barrett? Did you say Amber
Barrett?”

“I did say that,” Ginger answered. “The
daughter of Lucky Barrett.”

Ashe lit up. “How much do you want to bet
that family and friends call her Bam? And how much do you want to
bet that Scott is with her. There is our link to Scott. And our
third clue.”

“Ginger…get me the address where Amber
Barrett is presently living,” Oscar ordered, before hanging up on
him.

“Are you going to tell Phillip the break we
just made?” Ashe asked him.

“No,” Oscar insisted. “I don’t want anyone
but us to know, right this second. This isn’t about Phillips. If
you are right about someone in his or our department working for
Lucky, I don’t anyone else to know where we are going until we get
closer. We don’t need them to beat us there and kill anyone
else.”

“Agreed.”

It didn’t take long for Ginger to track down
the mailing address for Amber Barrett. Finally, Ashe found himself
on his way to his son. Hopefully. But he knew that things were not
coming to a close. Many more troubles were ahead of him. And things
were far from over.

Chapter 50

Scott couldn’t believe he had fallen asleep,
he figured his wired nerves would have kept him awake. He didn’t
remember falling asleep or even dreaming. And when he opened his
eyes, he knew that he hadn’t slept too long because the room was
still dark with night. It took a minute to orient himself and when
he was able to see within the dark of the room, he realized that
Bam was still lying next to him, snoring away.

Back before the world began to implode,
before all the chaos and the death, before the pill and the
confusion, Scott would often lie next to Bam and listen to her
sleep. He loved to hear her breathing, in and out, in and out. It
was better than any song, any music that could be created. It was
honest and pure. Breathing. In and out. It was life at its barest
form.

Quietly wiggling toward the edge of the
mattress, he was able to get up from the bed without disturbing
her. Silently, he made his way from the room and down the wooden
steps toward the living room. He froze. Staring up at him was Lucky
Barrett, still awake, still smirking. The man was like the Joker
from the Batman comics and movies, always smiling, the smiles
growing wider and wider while things exploded around them.

How did the man stand being tied like that,
arms around his back, unable to move much? Scott asked himself. And
how was he still smirking? It was like a cruel joke. It was like no
matter what he did or didn’t do, Lucky Barrett would have the last
laugh.

He shook the thought from his mind and
continued down the stairs, trying to fake confidence, trying to
pretend as if Lucky was indeed under his domain, under his thumb,
that Scott was the one who was the one in control, even though he
wasn’t so sure how true it was. But to be honest, Scott was sure
the he was the one who was tied and bound to a chair by his feet
and hands.

“Did you get any sleep?” Scott asked and then
forced a giggle. He arrived at the bottom of the steps and then
stopped. Leaning against the wooden banister, he bragged, “I slept
like a baby.”

“I’m not tired, I guess,” Lucky replied,
shrugging. “I could use a sandwich, though. Turkey and cheese…add a
pickle?”

“Not going to happen,” Scott explained,
beginning to walk again. “I want you hungry and weak. I will make
you a deal. I will make the perfect, best tasting sandwich you’ve
every hand the moment you tell me what I want to know. Sound good?
Sound like a plan?”

Lucky shrugged innocently. “I don’t know what
you want me to say, young Walters. I don’t know what kind of
answers you believe that I have. I don’t even remember the
question. I don’t think I am as intelligent or in-the-know as you
may think.”

Scott was instantly in the chair across from
Lucky and glaring into his face. “Why are you fucking with my head?
I didn’t want any of this. I don’t need this shit. But here I am…a
killer…sitting in front of a mass killer.”

“I’ve never killed anyone,” Lucky said.

“True,” Scott admitted. “You have someone
else do it for you. You didn’t think that I have done my research?
You think that your own daughter didn’t tell me tale after tale
about the sick and depraved things that you have done, all for the
sake of money and power? You are the fucked up one here, the
villain in this story.”

“Are you trying to blame me for what you
did?” Lucky asked. “We just met, Scott. How would I have anything
to do with you killing people?”

“I killed them in self-defense,” Scott told
him. “And you know it. I just want to understand…why…how? It seems
so…I don’t know. I don’t understand. I need to understand.”

“Why? Why do you need to
understand…anything?”

“How could I not?” Ashe pulled the black and
gold container from his pocket and showed it to Lucky. “I took this
pill and it showed me how I was going to die. It was…a vision. I
don’t know if I can call it God…but I need to be able to call
it…something. I need to call it something. And you can help me with
that. The pill came from you. Where did you get it? How can it do
what it did?”

“Where
did you
get it?”

“Bam gave it to me,” Scott replied and
regretted giving the man any information. “But that doesn’t
matter.”

“It does matter,” Lucky said. “That little
pill doesn’t come into your life without a purpose.”

“It came from
you
,” Scott
explained.

“And she took one too?” Lucky inquired,
fidgeting his body in the chair.

“Yea. She told me she did. What does that
matter?” Scott grew restless and couldn’t remain sitting. He had to
stand. Maybe if he moved his feet then his mind would move along
with it. But then even when he was moving, mentally or physically,
he seemed only to move in circles, round and round, as if trapped
in a loop, no end or solution in sight.

“If she knew what it did, then why did she
trick you into taking it?” Lucky asked.

“She didn’t trick me,” Ashe argued. Did she?
No. He would not question Bam. She was the only rock that was
keeping him from being pulled by the strong-handed current away
from land and out into the depth of the cold, grim sea.

“It doesn’t matter,” Scott insisted. “She got
it from you. It all comes back to you. Everything comes back to
you.”

“It comes through me,” Lucky revealed. “The
pill didn’t start with me.”

Scott began a shorter pace, more controlled.
“Where did it start? Where did it come from?”

“I have no idea,” Lucky responded.

Scott halted his laps, but didn’t confront
the man. By the expression on Lucky’s face, along with the
short-lived absence of the smirk, Scott knew that the man could
actually be telling the truth, for once. Lucky Barrett, the mobster
with the yellow car and yellow tie, had given him a
straightforward, truthful answer. But even though it
was
an
answer
, the revelation wasn’t what Scott wanted to hear. He
wasn’t sure what exactly he had wanted to hear, but he knew that he
needed something more solid, something for him to actually touch
and grab hold of.

Lucky Barrett began to give Scott a cold
stare. “How did my sweetheart Amber get the pill? She has been
avoiding me like the plague ever since she became an adult. And I
have kept my distance from her, as well. So…how did she come across
our little pill? They are not passing it out at the street corner,
my dear boy.”

Scott was silent.

“On top of that, how did she know about the
meeting at the park, the one in which you crashed with extreme
prejudice?” Lucky continued to question. “I’m pretty sure that the
information came from my sweet daughter. Think about it for one
simple second. She is a Barrett, after all. And a Barrett doesn’t
even take a shit without a plan or purpose in mind.”

“She is nothing like you or the rest of your
family,” Scott barked.

“I am in this chair,” Lucky stated. “Maybe
that was the end game all along.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Nature versus nurture,” Lucky stated. “The
nature of a person can be hard, if not impossible, to deny. Nature
can be a real heartless bitch, sometimes, my boy.”

“
I
know
her
,” Scott
insisted.

“Do you? Don’t be so sure, young man,” Lucky
said. “Everyone is like an onion, with layers, and all we know of
them is a layer or two down, but we rarely see the deeper layers,
the ones that stink and bring tears to your eyes. I’ve
known
many people in my lifetime, but I have also never
known
a
single other person, outside of my own self.” He paused briefly.
“How do
know
she even took the pill herself?”

He thought about that, too. Bam had taken the
pill three days before he had come to him with it. He had not been
present to see her do it. What did that mean? Did it mean anything?
Of course it didn’t. He once again became mad at himself for
letting doubt seep into his mind like a dark sludge oozing through
the cracks that Lucky was trying to create. It would not work. Bam
had taken the pill, too. Why would she have lied about it?