Chapter 91 - 92: Chief Woody’s Plan

Chapter 91: Chapter 92: Chief Woody’s Plan

Chapter 92: Chief Woody’s Plan

Axel Vance led Lionel Cosgrove and Carrie White through several familiar Miami streets before stopping in front of an aging apartment building with faded paint and an entrance that had clearly seen better years. He climbed the stairs, pulled out his key, and unlocked a wooden door whose paint was peeling around the edges. "Come in. This is home."

The apartment was small enough that three people immediately made it feel overcrowded. The living room doubled as the dining room, while police paperwork, books, tools, clothes, and miscellaneous equipment occupied nearly every available corner. Axel had never cared much about the clutter while living alone, but with Lionel and Carrie standing inside, the place suddenly looked more like a storage room with furniture.

Lionel did not mind in the slightest. He dropped his backpack beside the door, collapsed across most of the couch, and released a long sigh of satisfaction. "Finally, somewhere I can lie down without wondering whether a mutant, ghost, or flying cannibal is about to come through the wall."

Carrie remained awkwardly near the doorway with her small bag held close to her body. Axel’s apartment looked nothing like Margaret White’s bare, oppressive house, because everything here seemed casually used rather than carefully arranged around punishment and religious fear. Despite the mess, Carrie found herself breathing more easily than she had at home.

Axel opened the refrigerator and took out a few bottles of beer. He tossed one toward Lionel, kept another for himself, then paused when he looked toward Carrie and instead found a bottle of cola in the cupboard. "Make yourself comfortable. At least as comfortable as anyone can get in this place."

The apartment only had one couch and a single armchair, and Lionel had already claimed most of the couch. Axel gave up on finding a normal seat and sat on the edge of the coffee table while Carrie carefully settled onto the remaining end of the sofa. For several seconds, the three of them simply sat there in unfamiliar silence.

Carrie held the cola with both hands and stared down at her shoes, while Lionel leaned back and took a long drink of beer before releasing an unapologetically loud burp. Axel looked from one of them to the other and suddenly became painfully aware of how little space he actually had. The apartment that had seemed perfectly acceptable yesterday now felt completely inadequate.

Living alone had made space almost irrelevant, but that was obviously changing. Lionel might remain around for some time, Carrie had nowhere safe to stay until her situation stabilized, and Axel already owned enough supernatural equipment to make any landlord nervous. If this group continued growing, the old apartment was going to become impossible.

He needed a larger place, preferably somewhere outside the busiest parts of Miami. A suburban house with a basement or detached garage would give him room for equipment, Spirit Binding research, and anything else that would cause neighbors to call the police if they heard it through an apartment wall in the middle of the night. More importantly, it could become a proper base rather than merely somewhere Axel slept between cases.

The idea took root immediately. Once Axel started imagining secure storage, enough bedrooms, workspace, and privacy, returning to the old arrangement already felt unrealistic. He was mentally estimating what a decent house around Miami might cost when the telephone suddenly rang.

The sound broke the silence inside the apartment. Axel frowned, reached across the table, and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Axel, you’re finally back!" The familiar voice on the other end belonged to Steve, one of his colleagues at the Miami Police Department. Axel immediately leaned back and replied, "I’m still officially on leave, Steve, so whatever you’re about to ask better be important."

"Forget the leave for a minute," Steve said quickly. "Dave already reported that you’re back in Miami, and Chief Woody wants you at the station immediately. Not tomorrow, not after dinner—right now."

Axel rubbed the bridge of his nose and looked around the apartment. He had barely arrived home, had not eaten anything resembling a proper meal, and had been looking forward to a shower, several hours of sleep, and a celebration that did not involve monsters trying to kill him. Miami had apparently decided he had already received enough rest.

"Fine, I’m coming," Axel said before hanging up. He stood, grabbed his jacket, and looked toward Lionel and Carrie. "You two stay here for now. There’s food in the refrigerator, and I’m just going to the department to check in with the chief."

Lionel straightened slightly on the couch and asked, "Need help?" Axel shook his head while putting on the jacket and replied, "No. I’m meeting my boss, not raiding another abandoned federal facility." Lionel immediately settled back down, apparently satisfied with that distinction.

A short while later, Axel stepped inside the Miami Police Department and was greeted by the familiar chaos of ringing telephones, officers moving between desks, reports changing hands, and arguments coming from somewhere near the front counter. After weeks of supernatural disasters, ordinary police work felt almost comforting. Axel nodded to several familiar faces and headed directly toward Chief Woody’s office.

He pushed the door open and found paperwork covering nearly every available section of the desk. Chief Woody paced behind it with an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth, clearly irritated enough that he had been chewing on the same cigar instead of smoking it. The moment he saw Axel, he stopped and pulled it from his mouth.

"You’re finally back," Woody said, tossing the battered cigar onto the desk. "Your leave was supposed to last roughly a month, and it hasn’t even been that long yet." Axel pulled out a chair, sat down without being invited, and replied, "Good to see you too, Chief."

Chief Woody narrowed his eyes. "Anything strange happen while you were gone?" Axel stared at him for several seconds, mentally reviewing Jason, Freddy, Leatherface, the Creeper, the Color from the stars, Carrie, the living truck, and the black-eyed operative. "You’re going to have to narrow down your definition of strange."

Woody waved one hand impatiently. "Forget it. I’m not asking for that report today." He walked around the desk and added, "What matters is why I sent you away in the first place."

Axel leaned back in the chair. "You wanted me out of sight long enough for the cult to relax." Woody immediately nodded and said, "Exactly. You had hit too many connected cases too quickly, and whoever was watching you had every reason to tighten up."

"The idea was that you disappeared for about a month, they assumed the pressure was gone, and somebody finally made a mistake," Woody continued. "Once they started moving again, we could follow the network instead of chasing shadows. Simple plan."

Axel raised an eyebrow. "I’m guessing it didn’t work." Woody’s expression darkened instantly, confirming the answer before he spoke.

"It worked in exactly the wrong direction," Chief Woody said. He slapped one hand against the desk hard enough to rattle the pens and continued, "They disappeared completely. Suspected cult contacts stopped moving, known meeting places emptied out, and even unrelated fringe groups around Miami suddenly became quieter than usual."

Axel’s expression became more serious. "So either they left the city or buried themselves deeper." Woody nodded and began pacing again, clearly frustrated by the lack of anything concrete to pursue.

"That’s the problem with Miami," Woody said. "There are gangs, traffickers, smugglers, transient populations, corrupt operators, fringe religious groups, and enough people moving in and out every day that disappearing is easy if you know what you’re doing." He stopped near the window and added, "Someone can hide in this city for a long time without looking unusual."

Axel understood the difficulty. Conventional police work depended on witnesses, records, patterns, and suspects making mistakes, but an organization willing to abandon locations and contacts could erase most of those advantages. After seeing how compartmentalized the cult had been in Texas and New Mexico, Axel doubted Miami investigators would simply stumble across its leadership.

Chief Woody turned back toward him. "That’s why I need you." Axel spread his hands and replied, "Chief, I graduated from the academy recently. I’m not some legendary detective who can solve a conspiracy from three fingerprints and a cigarette butt."

"I know that," Woody said. Axel continued, "If you need months of financial analysis, surveillance charts, and investigative paperwork, you have people much better suited for it. If you need something shot, that’s a different conversation."

Woody pointed at him. "That attitude is partly why this may work." Axel immediately became suspicious, because the chief had the expression of someone about to offer a plan that would sound ridiculous until all the alternatives were considered.

Chief Woody walked behind his desk and said, "I don’t want you coming back to regular duty yet." Axel blinked once, then asked, "What does that mean? You firing me?"

"Not fired," Woody snapped. "I want you to continue your leave, but stay in Miami." He leaned forward and explained, "Walk around town, eat wherever you want, go to bars, visit friends, drive around, and generally behave like Axel Vance has nothing to worry about."

Axel stared at him for a few seconds. Then the intention became obvious. "You want me to act as bait."

Woody exhaled and nodded. "Right now, it’s the best opening we have. Those people have shown enough interest in you that if they see you wandering around Miami freely, eventually somebody may decide you’re vulnerable enough to approach."

Axel frowned. "And if they don’t?" He leaned back and added, "Am I supposed to spend the next five years wandering around bars pretending I’m unemployed until somebody finally gets ambitious?"

"That would still be more productive than what we’re doing now," Woody replied. "At the moment, we know almost nothing about where they went, who’s giving orders, how many people remain in Miami, or what they’re planning. You’re the only reliable pressure point we know they’ve reacted to before."

The office became quiet while Axel considered the idea. As crude as the plan sounded, Chief Woody was right about one thing: the cult had repeatedly demonstrated a personal interest in Axel and had shown no sign of forgetting him. If he remained visible long enough, somebody would probably take the opportunity.

Axel finally looked up. "What do I get?" Chief Woody’s expression immediately changed into that of someone who had been waiting for exactly that question.

"You stay off normal shifts," Woody said. "No routine patrol schedule, no roll call, and no daily reports unless something actually happens." Axel’s interest increased noticeably with every condition.

Woody continued, "Your movements remain broadly unrestricted as part of an authorized operation, and you can spend your time wherever you think makes sense. Your salary continues normally, and your bonuses and department benefits stay intact." He folded his arms and concluded, "Think of it as paid extended leave while you make yourself visible enough for the cult to make a mistake."

Axel considered the arrangement and slowly smiled. He would receive his normal pay, avoid ordinary shifts and paperwork, retain freedom to handle the supernatural problems already accumulating around him, and technically fulfill his assignment simply by living normally until some lunatic tried to attack him. For once, police bureaucracy had produced something appealing.

Chief Woody immediately looked suspicious of Axel’s smile. "Why do I suddenly feel like I made this sound too good?" Axel stood from the chair, adjusted his jacket, and headed toward the office door. "Because you did. Leave it to me."

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