Tony smiles. “Don’t know what you mean.”
Vincent drew a breath. “You know what a fall guy is?”
“Is it exactly how it sounds?”
“It is. And you’re the fall guy.”
“No way, man. I’m just a concerned citizen who wants to reform himself and cleanse my soul of its mortal sins.”
Vincent rolled his eyes and leaned back while Tony stared at him like he was an animal in a zoo. “You’re lucky, you know,” Vincent said.
Tony blinked at him, failing miserably at his attempt to look innocent. “What do you mean, detective?”
“Everyone wants those girls returned. That’s what this all boils down to.”
“Which is why I’m prepared to tell you where they are.” Tony looked around the room as if some invisible third party would validate him. “I work for Ivan and Viktor,” he said. “I know things. Is that really so hard to believe?”
“I believe you know where they are,” Vincent said. “I think you’re telling me the truth on that.” He leaned forward. “But I think you’re being paid to know where they are, and I think you showing up to that deal tonight was set up to play out exactly the way it played out. You knew what was going to happen tonight, but you’re okay with the outcome because Ivan wanted it that way.”
Tony held his gaze, unblinking, then leaned in. “Detective, you’re wasting precious minutes asking me useless questions when there are women whose time is running out as we speak.”
Vincent felt his hand cramping from the stress. Tony tapped his finger as he waited for Vincent to make his next move. Right now, they were both playing a chess match—and Tony was winning.
“Okay,” Vincent finally said. “If you tell us where the missing girls are, and we find them alive, all of them, the DA will work with you to give you a reduced sentence.”
A pause from Tony. “My lawyer told you my stipulations. Yes?”
“He did. And you’ll get them if we find them all. Alive.” Vincent produced the signed deal drafted by the district attorney’s office.
“You have a pen?” Tony asked.
Vincent took one from his pocket and clicked it. He handed it over, and Tony scribbled his name on the bottom and displayed a smile like he had just won the lottery. “Four-seven-seven-seven Slough Avenue,” he said. “And you had better hurry.”
Vincent, Stone, and uniformed members of the Chicago PD screeched to a halt in a sea of cruisers outside the truck-loading zone of a brick warehouse with grimy trim, the place overrun with weeds and mold spreading like veins along the brick. Pistols drawn, shotguns were out, and a mob of law enforcement moved inside the warehouse, flashlights flooding the surfaces.
The group spread out, all of them partnered up and moving like water through a brook. It only took ten seconds of searching before a patrolman shouted from the rear, “Here! Over here!”
Vincent and Stone hustled into a back-office converted into a makeshift chain-link holding cell. It was a giant structure, with its main gate padlocked tight, and in the center were ten young women, from toddlers to teens.
They looked to be shivering cold, pale, dirty and weary, with their hands raised over their brows to shade their eyes from the brightness of the flashlights.
“We got them,” Stone called out. “They’re back here!”
Vincent’s sorrows and stress began to slip away, the adrenaline from the past few days finally subsiding as he holstered his weapon and stood back. Stone, with a wide and satisfied grin on her face, patted him on the back and gestured to the girls. “You did this,” she said. “You found them. This is all you.”
Vincent nodded and said nothing, still deep in thought.
“Feels good,” Stone added. “Doesn’t it?”
Vincent couldn’t lie: it did. He felt relieved, tired, and happy all at once at the sight of the missing girls. It was mission fucking accomplished.
Or so he thought.
15
A team of EMTs checked out the girls; all of them were relatively healthy, save for a few cases of dehydration, one who appeared malnourished, and a pair who looked like they were coming down from some narcotic.
“All ten of them are here,” Stone said. Vincent sat on the hood of a cruiser as detectives, patrolmen, and representatives of the DEA crowded the scene. “Each and every one.”
“Any sign of Ivan?” Vincent asked, gaze fixated on the pavement.
Stone shook her head. “I had a few agents storm The Comrade and few other hangouts that you mentioned. He’s in the wind. Probably long gone.”
“And Viktor?”
“Same. No one has the slightest clue where he is.”
Vincent scoffed and hopped off the hood. “Because he’s stuffed in an oil drum or dissolving in a vat of acid somewhere. Viktor was just a pawn. He meant nothing in the greater scheme of things.”
“What do you mean?”
Vincent glanced at his knuckles—still raw and red from his bare-knuckle brawl in the basement of the bar, the man he had killed likely stuffed away in a dark hole, quite possibly alongside Viktor. The guilt of being forced to kill the man to maintain his cover flooded his mind. Vincent let out a deep sigh.
“I need to tell you something,” he said. “And I’m not quite sure what kind of repercussions I’m going to face as a result.”
Stone glanced around for prying ears and pulled Vincent off to the side. “Speak your mind.”
Vincent took a moment. “When Viktor introduced me to Ivan, they made me participate in a fight to prove that I was legit.”
“Okay…seems to me you made it out in one piece.”
“Yeah…but the other guy didn’t.”
Stone closed her eyes. “Look, I know you, Vincent. And I know that you only did what you had to do. You didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
Vincent nodded. “I had no choice.”
“The way I see it is that ten innocent lives were saved, and if a few assholes had to go down to make that happen, well…” She turned and looked at Vincent. “I’m not gonna lose any sleep over that. Are you?”
Vincent was comforted by Stone’s words. They were accurate. Viktor and Anatoly were thugs, murderers, men who lived lives that ended by either jail or a bullet.
So fuck them.
Including Viktor and Anatoly.
To hell with them all.
But a nagging suspicion kept lingering in Vincent’s mind, a sensation, feelings of unresolved business.
“I can’t get off one thing, though,” he said.
“What is it?” Stone asked.
“Ivan Petrov. When I met the guy…” Vincent trailed off, unable to find the words to describe what he felt when Ivan looked him in the eye and shook his hand. “I don’t know,” he said with a sigh. “Maybe I’m just exhausted, or maybe I’m too close to this thing.”
“I think I agree,” Stone said with a grin. “I think it’s time you do the one thing you never do.”
He chuckled. “What’s that?”
Stone tilted her head. “Take a break.”
“What about the paperwork?”
She waved a hand. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll call you in a week. I’ve got it covered. Just don’t fall off the radar on me.”
Stone wandered over to Kosinski, who was by a car with a few DEA and FBI agents, as Vincent looked up at the sky and, for the briefest of moments, felt his mind cleared of tension. He’d done his job. He’d done what needed to be done. Good guys won; bad guys lost. His role in the game had ended, and it was time to don his dad hat, hop on a plane, and connect with the person in his life that mattered most.
Claire Vincent heard a knock on the front door of the cabin.
She approached the door. Her hand drifted to the pocketknife her father had given her after the last time she answered the door when she shouldn’t have, ready to bury the knife into the gut of whatever unwanted visitor was standing outside the door.
“Who is it?” she asked as she pressed he
r cheek to the wooden door.
“A deadbeat dad.”
Claire relaxed at the sound of her father, turned the locks, and swung the door open, her eyes misting as she saw her bruised and tender-looking father standing in the doorway with a sheepish expression and a slouch in his shoulders.
Claire couldn’t help but smile when she saw him, the tears flowing freely as she ran into his arms and hugged him by the waist like she did when she was six. It was a joyous reunion, one that caused both of them to forget about the past few days and resume their to-do list, which included hot chocolate, hikes in the snow, and some trips in town for some unnecessary shopping. It was precisely the thing that both members of the Vincent clan needed.
And it would end abruptly by the time the sunset the following evening.
16
Vincent slept in until noon the following morning, a much-needed respite from the past few days, something easily accomplished due to the warm atmosphere of the cabin and the nature-nourished silence that surrounded the area.
He awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
“Good morning!” Claire said from the kitchen to his left. “How’d you sleep?”
Vincent coughed out the grogginess as he moved toward the kitchen and then slid into the breakfast nook, surveying the interior of the sprawling log cabin and fully appreciating the craftsmanship now it was broad daylight. “Nice place you booked, Claire Bear,” he said. “It’s pretty cozy. Is this the same one we booked before you left?”
He’d pulled the address from the booking confirmation she forwarded him after she decided to fly to Big Bear solo, and he was playing coy with her over its price tag, which was significantly higher than the joint they had booked when the trip was first planned.
“Yeah,” she said. “About that…”
Vincent reached for a mug and poured himself a cup of morning glory. “You changed the reservation. Correct?”
Claire smiled, but the silence said everything.
“How much?”
“Five hundred a night…” she said, looking at her father nervously.
Vincent’s coffee nearly came out of his nose. “Good Lord!”
Claire held up her hands. “I know. And I’m sorry, but I was mad after you said you weren’t coming so I upgraded the cabin.”
“On my credit card, too, apparently.”
“I know. I shouldn’t have. I’ll reimburse you from my savings. I promise. I’ll transfer it tonight! I was wrong to—” Vincent hugged his daughter and squeezed her like a bear. “You’re squishin’ me!”
“Forget about the money,” he said. “This trip is on me.”
“But Dad—” Claire protested through muffled breaths.
“Hush now,” Vincent said. “What’s done is done. You and I need a break, so we’re going to live it to the max. Price means nothing. You got it?”
Claire looked up and saluted. “Copy that, sir!”
They released the hug, Vincent going back to his coffee as Claire pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge. “You know,” she said, “it really is a nice place. There’s a hot tub on the deck outside in the back.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Nope!”
“Have you used it yet?”
“Please. I’m a twenty-one-year-old woman. I’ve used it four times already. It’s like the Cadillac of hot tubs.”
“Well,” Vincent said, looking around the spacious cabin and its four-star amenities—fifty-inch TV, plush couches, multiple bedrooms, high-quality leather, and polished wood, “go big or go home. I guess.”
Claire grabbed a pan, put it on the stove, and turned on the burners. “Well,” she said, “we’ve got three whole days left. What should we do with them?”
Vincent shrugged, still drained from his exploits of the past few days and ready to go with the flow. “Anything you want, my dear,” he said. “This is your trip.”
Claire looked out one of the bay windows to the sprawling forest ripe with pines. “There’s a trail there I want to hike,” she said. “I keep meaning to do it early in the morning, but I just haven’t yet.”
“Because you’re like me.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You hate hiking.”
Claire laughed. “True. It’s good for you. I get that, but Blech. I just don’t like it.”
“Well,” Vincent said, ready to toy with his daughter, “you probably couldn’t keep up with me anyway.”
Claire turned with a playful look on her face. “Is that a challenge? Like first one to get to the top of the trail gets a hundred bucks’ kind of thing?”
Vincent shook his head. “A hundred bucks? Who paid for this cabin? That’s your hundred bucks right there, princess.”
After Claire cooked breakfast, they sat down and ate, and then she retreated to grab her running gear. “Might want to withdraw that money now!” she called out as she flew up the stairs to her room. “Cause I’m about to kick your freaking butt!”
Vincent sighed as he set down his coffee, turned off the pot, and changed into his running shoes. He wasn’t in the mood for a race, much less any kind of physical activity. But it was what his daughter wanted, and he’d trek up K2 right now if it meant being able to maintain a relationship he was always in jeopardy of losing.
Minutes later, they were on the trail, walking at a brisk pace and soaking in the splendor of Mother Nature, Vincent teasing and joking with his daughter as they let their worries slip away and simply enjoyed the moment.
Completely oblivious they were being watched.
17
The trail was surrounded with tremendously tall trees that looked to be touching the sky on the entire two-mile trek, the air fresh with the scent of pine as Vincent and Claire ran in an all-out sprint toward the mile-one marker.
“Keep up!” Claire called out, slightly ahead of her father. “I’m gonna beat you!”
Vincent, giving it everything he had, felt the last bits of energy leave his body as he waved his daughter off and came to a stop in the middle of the trail. His hands were on his knees as Claire pumped her fists in the air the moment she reached the marker, shouting at the top of her lungs, “Claire Elizabeth Vincent! Victorious once again!”
Vincent, still catching his breath, applauded her as he caught up. “You’re faster than I remember, kid,” he said. “Well done.”
“Helps that I run laps around the block at home,” Claire said, hands on her hips as she jogged in place. “I always try to get Mom to join me when I visit, but she’s gone more often than not.”
“New husband and her traveling a lot, huh?”
“All the time.”
They looked out and over the land; the sky was blue and full of promise as the sun slowly descended into the west. “Man,” Vincent said in wonder. “Despite its faults, California has some natural beauty.”
Claire nodded. “Don’t get much of this in Hollow Green, right?”
“Rarely,” Vincent said. “It’s pretty flat out there.”
“Plenty of things to do, though, especially for you.”
Images of the various cases Vincent had been involved in—and the face of Anatoly—flashed through Vincent’s mind. Too many to count, he thought.
“Hey,” Claire said. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” Vincent shook off the daydreaming. “Just a lot going on back there. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to be away from it.”
Claire looked down and kicked at the dirt. “You’re usually such a fiend for it.”
“That used to be the case. Yeah.”
Claire looked up at her father. “Something’s up. I can see it in your eyes. I mean, you’re pretty beat up physically from what just happened, but I’ve seen you like that before.”
Vincent recalled the various injuries he had sported while in the company of his daughter. “No kid should have to deal with that, Claire. You deserve better than that.” He walked over to a boulder wedged in betwe
en an incline and leaned against it. “All that aside, I can’t even count how many times I’ve let you down, this weekend included.”
Claire walked over to her father. “I’ve come to terms with it. You’re trying. That’s all that counts.”
Vincent shook his head. “Trying isn’t good enough. It’s about changing what my priorities are. Despite my best intentions, my job has always been my highest priority. But after this last round, after all, that happened.” His voice drifted, his mind no longer able to playback the countless memories.
Vincent pushed off the rock and stared out at the horizon as if he could see into his future. “I think the time’s come,” he said, more to himself than to Claire.
“For what?” Claire asked.
Vincent faced his daughter. “To call it quits, hon—to leave Hollow Green…and the badge behind with it.”
Claire pushed off the boulder and approached her father. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Vincent said with all the conviction he could muster.
“Well…what are you going to do?”
“I’ll figure it out. I always do. Hell, driving a damn bus sounds more appealing now than going back to the job.”
Claire stood silent for a moment. “You’re serious. You’re really going to leave Hollow Green. All of it. Just like that.”
Vincent shrugged. “I’ll just write it off as quitting while I’m ahead.”
Claire smiled. Vincent smiled. The two of them embraced, feeling like a page had been turned and a new beginning now awaited them both. “Want to finish the hike?” Vincent asked.
“Yes.” Claire parted from the hug and drew a breath to kick-start the last leg of the hike, then a loud crack from a rifle rang out in the mountains.
18
Vincent felt like he was punched in the back.
His left shoulder turned in, and the momentum spun him around.
Hollow's End Page 7