Dark Intentions

Chapter 12

Evan woke with the sunlight shining through his uncurtained window. Groaning, he rolled over, pushed away the blood-stained sheet, and forced himself from bed.

He’d allowed himself two days to heal, but now he had things to do and someone to meet. Also, he needed to return to work this afternoon. He’d called in several times recently and still needed his job.

The pain was still constant, and his swollen nose passed minimal air making it necessary to breathe through his mouth. Because of this, his mouth always felt dry, forcing him to drink lots of water.

While convalescing, his mood had swung between despair and rage, finally settling down as he began setting his new plans in motion.

Evan’s only friend, Diego, was someone he’d met in school and he lived only about an hour away. Diego had broken with his criminal past and made something of himself. He was the reason Evan moved to the Tucson area when he had nowhere else to call home. Diego might have had a new life, but he still had family and connections on the streets of Tucson. He’d reluctantly arranged a meeting for this afternoon, and Evan wanted to arrive early. Forcing himself to take his first shower in a week, he scrubbed all the blood from his hands and arms and then did his best to clean his injured face. The swelling had gone down some but was still quite noticeable, and the pain was a constant reminder of his most recent failure.

He swallowed four ibuprofen and got dressed before going into his workroom. He opened the cabinet on the wall and ignored the eleven cans of spray foam on the large bottom shelf. Reaching to the middle shelf, he withdrew one of the three remaining vials of carfentanil. He’d used one vial several days ago. He divided it between the first three darts he fired in his first attack. Sacrificing this one would still leave him two, in the unlikely event he needed to go in that direction again.

Evan got in the silver sedan, headed into town, and stopped at a city recreational area. He parked along a side street, near a deserted baseball field. Evan got out of the car and walked down the street to the gate that allowed him access to the field. He headed to the first-base dugout and stepped inside. Examining the structure, he found where the ceiling and rear wall met. A board ran the length of the dugout, and half of it was exposed. Removing the vial from his pocket, he tucked it on the board, out of sight. The idea of making a trade with drug dealers made him uncomfortable, and he wasn’t going to get ripped off.

He left the dugout and walked around the ballfield, waiting for the man he planned to meet.

Fifteen minutes later, three men approached. The trio wore tank tops and were covered in tattoos. They looked to be a little older than Evan. Probably in their mid to late twenties and of Latino heritage. One carried a small backpack. Evan was confident these were the people his friend told him to meet.

As the one in the lead approached, he snickered, “They told me to look for the guy who had a busted face. It looks like your little sister gave you quite a whopping.”

His companions laughed at their leader’s jibe.

Evan replied, “I figured it would be an easy way for you to know it was me. What do you have?”

“Not so fast. You’re supposed to have something for me.”

“I do. But first, let me see what you brought,” Evan insisted.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“As much as you trust me. Show me, and I’ll give it to you.”

“Maybe my boys here will give you another beating and just take it,” the gang leader said.

“You won’t get it. I stashed it here somewhere.”

As he spoke, Evan made sure not to look in the direction of the dugout.

The gang leader gave Evan a disapproving glare, then smiled and shoved him on the shoulder. “I’m messing with you, gringo! We’re here for an honest trade.”

His men snickered.

Evan returned the smile, not believing the older man.

The leader signaled to the member of his crew carrying the backpack, who stepped forward and opened it, showing Evan the contents.

Inside, Evan saw a black-and-yellow Taser pistol and 20 replacement cartridges.

The man holding the backpack explained, “This is the good one. The same as the cops use. Not the weaker version anyone can buy.”

Evan nodded and smiled. “Most important, the serial numbers on the cartridges can’t be traced to me.”

“That’s true. What’re you going to do with it?” the gang leader asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Evan answered.

Shrugging, the leader said, “So where’s my stuff?” not yet handing the backpack over.

Pointing to the dugout, Evan said, “In here.”

They walked the 20 yards to the dugout and entered. Evan reached up, and as he did, he became aware of the gang members stiffening as he reached for a hidden object.

Slowly he brought the vial down and saw them relax. He handed it over, and the leader inspected the 10ml vial of clear liquid.

“How do I know this is real?”

“The factory seal is still on the top of the vial. Once removed, it can’t be replaced. Also, I’m not so stupid as to try and rip you off. My friend Diego set up this trade, and I’ve known him for years. I wouldn’t do anything to cause him problems with you.”

The leader gave Evan an appraising stare. “I don’t know Diego. I work for his cousin, and he told me to get this trade done,” he said, deciding he believed him.

“They told me this would stop an elephant. Is that true?” The gang member asked.

“I’ve never tried it on an elephant, but that’s what I hear,” Evan answered.

“Do you have more of it? I can’t use it, but the person I work for will cut this 500 times or more.”

Evan lied, “I don’t have any now, but if I get more, I’ll let your boss know.”

The leader nodded to his subordinate, who surrendered the backpack to Evan.

Heading back to his car Evan fought to contain his excitement as the euphoria washed over him. Now he was ready to try again.