‘And we all want to see Carly get what she deserves.’
They clinked beer bottles to that. Then Jackson’s face grew serious.
‘Don’t worry about what Diego said earlier, that it doesn’t look good for her just because I’m in the equation. You can trust me.’
It’s funny what two little words can do. Trust me. For the second time in under a minute he was back in the Jerusalem Tavern. The last person to say those words to him was Carly when she first walked in and started him down this road.
Would Jackson be any different?
***
THEY BROUGHT DIEGO UP from the garage, took him upstairs to the small apartment above. Sat him on the couch with the coffee table in front of him. Jackson found some plates and cut a couple slices of the takeout pizza they’d brought with them. Then he grabbed a handful of beers out of the fridge, made a little display on the coffee table.
Evan sat down next to Diego, put a big cheesy grin on his face. He threw his phone to Jackson who framed the shot.
‘Smile,’ Jackson said.
It looked good enough. Like a couple of regular guys having a good time. She wouldn’t be inspecting it in detail.
Evan tapped out a text to Carly.
I know you think I’m jerking you around. Think again.
He sent it with the photo, switched his phone off. They’d know if it had worked five seconds after he turned it back on.
They locked Diego in the garage again, then Evan wore a hole in the carpet pacing the floor of Jackson’s small apartment for what felt like a week but was really only an hour while Jackson watched a ball game on TV.
‘Sit down for Christ’s sake,’ Jackson said, a hint of irritation in his voice. ‘You’re making me jumpy.’
Evan ignored him even though a jumpy Jackson was the last thing this—or any—situation needed. He checked his watch, then pulled his phone out of his pocket to switch it on.
‘Not yet,’ Jackson said. ‘Leave it until the morning.’
Evan stared at him like he was making up words.
‘You’re kidding me, right? The sooner we get her, the sooner we get Kate back.’
His finger was over the power button as he said it. Jackson was out of his chair before Evan knew it. He slapped the phone out of Evan’s hand, gripped his wrist with fingers made from leftover steel hawser.
‘Hey!’
‘Listen to me. If it worked and she believes you, she’ll be scared. And if she’s scared, she won’t come out in the dark. It’s too risky. If she doesn’t believe you, you need to let her stew. It’s the oldest trick in the book. Let her own mind work against her. The longer the better. And if she can’t get through to you, she’ll be going crazy. Either way, we have to wait.’
He released his grip on Evan’s wrist, let the blood start to flow again. Evan knew he was right. It didn’t mean he liked it. He couldn’t get the image of José out of his mind, the way he’d stared at Guillory like a rabid dog waiting to be let off the leash.
‘It’s not just her the waiting will drive crazy.’
‘Chico’s not going to do anything to her,’ Jackson said, his voice calm, reassuring. ‘You heard Diego. Chico sees himself as a man of honor. If he says you’ve got two days, you’ve got two days. Better to wait until morning and guarantee we get Carly rather than risk spooking her tonight.’
Evan couldn’t see any way to argue with the logic. He shook his head in defeat, dropped heavily into a chair, no chance of any sleep in the long hours to come.
He’d have said screw the logic and switched his phone back on immediately if it had crossed his mind that Jackson might have his own reasons for waiting until daylight.
Chapter 70
‘YOU SAID FIVE SECONDS,’ Evan said to Jackson.
He’d just switched his phone on the next morning. He didn’t bother putting it back in his pocket, held it in his palm. They both stared at it, willing it to ring. They didn’t have to wait long.
‘Did you get the photo I sent you?’
‘Where do you want to meet?’ she said.
Evan punched the air. Jackson grinned.
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
‘What do you want from me?’
There was a satisfying hint of desperation in her voice.
‘What do you think? The thing you’ve been promising me all along. Information about Sarah. Or maybe you don’t have any information to trade, never did have and you’ve been jerking me around from the start.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Well, we’ll find out when you get here.’
He gave her the address of the garage apartment.
‘Why there? What’s there?’
‘It’s where I’m staying for now. Somehow I’ve ended up the prime suspect for Dixie’s murder.’
‘I want somewhere more public.’
‘Don’t you trust me? Let’s just forget the whole thing.’
‘No,’ she shrieked.
‘See you in half an hour then.’ He ended the call.
Jackson fixed them eggs and bacon while they waited. Evan had just finished the last mouthful when they heard a car approaching. They exchanged a raised-eyebrow, moment-of-truth look and both jumped up. Jackson cleared away the plates, hid them out of sight, then ducked into the bedroom. Evan went outside and down the stairs to meet Carly.
The first thing he noticed was the bandage on her arm. She saw him looking at it, shook her head. Don’t ask. He didn’t.
She sniffed the air as he led her into the apartment.
‘Did you save me any breakfast?’
‘Sorry.’
He’d let the roaches have it before he gave her any. But the comment made the hairs on the back of his neck sit up. How does a person go from terrified on the phone to joking about breakfast in the space of a half hour? He turned to face her, half expecting to see a gun pointing at his gut.
But there was nothing in her hand except her bag. Even if it was a big one, one with plenty of room to hide a gun.
‘I wasn’t telling the truth one hundred per cent on the phone,’ he said.
She stiffened. A familiar sneer appeared on her face. As if she had a bad smell under her nose.
‘Ain’t it a pisser when people lie to you all the time? I’ve got something to show you. But it’s nothing to do with you setting Jackson up.’ He inserted the thumb drive into his laptop. ‘I think you’ll find this equally interesting. I can absolutely guarantee you’ll want it once you’ve seen it. Don’t bother sitting down. It’s quite short.’
He hit play.
He knew if by heart now. He should have let her sit down after all. Her knees buckled, her hand clamped over her mouth when Dixie said For what it’s worth I think Carly did it. And she let out a strangled gasp when he told them he thought Rachel’s death was on her too.
The video ended.
He waited to let her speak first. Wondered how she’d explain that away.
But it was another voice altogether that broke the silence and tension in the room.
‘Hello again, Carly,’ Jackson said as he came out of the bedroom, gun in one hand and a black plastic trash bag in the other.
Damn, that wasn’t in the plan.
Chapter 71
TODD WAS GLAD HE was on this side of the door and not the other side, the side where all the noise was coming from.
He’d delivered the cop the previous day and they’d sent him away. Told him to come back in the morning. But when he turned up they were still working on her. She must be one tough son-of-a-bitch. She was going to look like a piece of well-chewed steak somebody had given up on and left on the side of their plate when they finished with her.
Finally the door opened and a couple of big guys came out. Stripped down to their wife-beaters, they were sweating like a couple of pigs. He caught a glimpse of the cop tied to a chair, her head hanging down limply. Then Liverman came out looking as fresh and relaxed as if he was coming out of a successf
ul business meeting.
‘Everything okay, Mr Liverman?’
Behind Liverman, Todd saw the cop’s head lift a fraction at the name. Was that a grim smile under all that blood?
Damn.
He could’ve kicked himself. Liverman didn’t even notice, he was so pleased with himself. Didn’t matter anyway. It wouldn’t do the cop any good where she was going. But it was unprofessional. Todd felt as if he’d let himself down.
Liverman smiled at him. It made Todd’s skin crawl.
‘Perfect. They haven’t got squat. She’s all yours.’
They put a hood over her head, bundled her into the back of Todd’s van. He smiled to himself as he headed off towards the woods—they were headed back the way they’d come yesterday before he found her running down the road. She’d have been better off staying where she was, saving herself a beating.
After an hour or so he turned off the main road, headed up into where the woods were deeper. There was a spot he knew that he’d used before. Remote. Out of the way. Nobody ever went up there apart from a few hunters.
He found the place he was looking for and parked. Sat for a minute enjoying the peace and quiet. Then he climbed out of the cab. Headed around to the back. The cop was lying on her side, her wrists behind her back in plastic riot cuffs. A hood was tied loosely at her neck. She shifted as Todd pulled the doors open wide, tried to get herself into a sitting position.
‘How much are they paying you?’
It took Todd by surprise.
He’d never had anybody ask him that before. Cry, beg for their life, but not ask how much he was getting paid. As if they were considering it as a career option if the money side of things stacked up.
‘I don’t think that’s any of your business.’
‘How’s a million and a half sound?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘I said how’d you like to make a million and a half dollars.’
Todd snickered. They really must have given her head a good beating.
‘I’d like it very much. Why?’
‘I’ll give you one million, five hundred thousand dollars in cash if you let me go.’
Todd laughed out loud. What a joker. He had to give it to her, still cracking jokes as she’s about to meet her maker.
‘I’m serious.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ Todd said, tired of the conversation now.
‘I’ll tell you where it is. If I’m lying, you’ll come back and kill me anyway. Why would I lie? What have you got to lose?’
Todd thought it through. Tried to see her angle. Was she hoping somebody would come along and find her? There was more chance of a bear coming along and eating her than a person finding her. The big question was whether there was any money or not.
Because the money would be nice. He’d recently paid almost five thousand bucks for a Nemesis Vanquish—a take-down, bolt action sniper rifle—and that sort of purchase takes a big bite out of your cash reserves. It was sitting in the storage compartment under the van’s passenger seat at this very moment. He hadn’t even had a chance to use it yet.
‘How far away is it?’
‘Back where we came from. You’d be back again in no time. I haven’t seen your face. You can disappear. Go wherever you like. Florida, Hawaii . . .’
Todd knew himself too well. If he pulled her out of the van and shot her now he’d spend the rest of his life wondering if it had been true. He heard the nagging head voices already.
Why didn’t you take just two hours to find out?
Because you’re lazy, that’s why.
‘A million and a half . . .’
It was as if the money itself was singing to him.
‘Shut the fuck up. You keep that up and I’ll . . . I’ll . . .’
He was going to have to do it.
He knew the head voices would kick in before she toppled into the hole. Okay. He’d seen a deserted hunting lodge when he’d been up here before. He’d check that out.
It took him a while to find the place. Lucky for the cop the cabin was still there. Just as deserted as ever.
‘You left a million and a half in a duffel bag in the gym?’ Todd’s face hardened when she told him where the money was. ‘You’re definitely jerking me around.’
She shook her head. The sack was discoloured with her blood where it touched her face.
‘Just check it out. You’ve got nothing to lose.’
He cuffed her to the wood-burning stove. Went to find out.
Chapter 72
THEY COLLECTED DIEGO FROM the garage. Jackson formed them into a line and they all trooped into the woods behind the apartment. Diego in front, then Carly, Evan next, Jackson bringing up the rear. Jackson had his gun trained on their backs. The trash bag was in his hand, Carly’s handbag slung over his shoulder.
After a quarter mile they came to a clearing. On the far side there was a particular tree, one Evan instinctively knew was their destination. Tall and straight, with a strong branch sticking straight out fifteen feet up. Jackson made them sit on the ground at the base of it, Evan included. Like they were going to have a picnic. Or a last supper, Evan thought grimly.
‘Don’t stop.’
The patrón finished his cigarette and flicked the butt away. He watched dispassionately, bored now, as the man nodded and then buried his heavy boot deep into the boy’s midsection, lifting him an inch or two off the ground. He couldn’t think when he’d last been so disappointed. He’d had such high hopes when they’d set out that morning, so excited to try out something he’d seen in a movie the week before.
How long had it lasted?
Twenty seconds? Thirty, at most. Not long enough to smoke a cigarette, that was for sure. He thought these peasants were supposed to be tough. The one flapping around in the dirt and weeds in front of him, grunting and gasping like a speared fish, looked tough enough in a wiry, under-fed sort of way, his slim muscular arms with ropey veins that would have been blue if it wasn’t for his dirty, sun-darkened skin.
‘Hey, Diego,’ Jackson called out.
Diego looked up with frightened eyes, the eyes of a herbivore at the waterhole.
‘What’s Chico’s favorite story?’
Diego’s left cheek twitched.
‘Come on, Diego. I’ve heard it a hundred times. You must have heard it a thousand.’
Diego swallowed thickly. He knew exactly what Jackson was talking about.
He glanced up and studied the old man swinging gently in the breeze, blood and tar dripping from his bare feet and pooling in the dirt below him. Urine, too. He was really rather fat for a peasant. But then he would be, wouldn’t he, stuffed to the gills with stolen pig like he was. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see the shape of a pig’s trotter poking through the grubby shirt that covered his distended belly.
The man’s furious thrashing had quickly subsided into a spasmic twitching and then stopped altogether. The obscene—and very irritating—gurgling sound in his throat has stopped too, thank God. Which one of the idiots had forgotten to put a rag in his mouth? He’d been tempted to shoot the old man but that would have spoiled the game, as well as disappointing his men. They liked their fun.
Jackson turned his attention to Carly.
‘How about you Carly? What’s Chico’s favorite story?’
Her face made it clear she’d heard the story too, staring at him as if he’d crawled out of a grave, come to drag her back down with him.
He lifted his face to the sky, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping some of his irritation would ease away. It was quiet now, almost peaceful, apart from a rhythmic thumping as four pairs of booted feet did their worst. He opened his eyes again and watched the men, fascinated, as they crowded around the semi-conscious boy, legs swinging relentlessly in and out, in and out. It was as if they were choreographed. A couple of them, the older ones, were grunting with the exertion, sweat flicking from their hair. The boy wasn’t making a sound now and a dark stain was
spreading out from his crotch. Like father, like son.
‘How’s your math, Carly?’
Even if she’d been able to find her vocal chords she wouldn’t have known what to say. Who would? She stared at him. Mouth open. Wetness in her eyes.
‘I’ve been figuring it out,’ Jackson went on, his ice-water gaze chilling her to her core. ‘You owe me two years of my life, one brother and one ex-girlfriend. What does that come to? Well, I can tell you now, it comes to a damn sight more than your worthless skin.’
He slipped her bag off his shoulder. Up-ended the trash bag. A length of rope with a noose on the end hit the ground with a heavy thump. A photograph fluttered out. Landed face down. He threw the heavy noose up and over the branch. Lowered it until it was head height. Dropped the loose end on the ground.
He took a step closer. The men stopped as one and stepped away, glad of the temporary respite. One of them pushed his hat back on his head and scratched his scalp. Another spat noisily into the dust and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Disgusting.
He tried to imagine the thoughts of men like these. They’d already drunk a number of cold beers, laughing and joking as the old man’s life had been choked slowly out of him. No doubt, more would follow their successful morning’s work. He turned the boy’s head with his boot, careful to avoid the worst of the blood. The flesh was spongy, like a steak that had been tenderized for too long. It made his skin crawl. Jesus Christ, the boy’s own mother wouldn’t recognize him now.
‘Up on your knees, Diego.’
Diego didn’t move.
Jackson smiled the smile of a man busy doing the devil's work.
‘What was that you said, Diego?’ He cocked his ear theatrically. ‘You’d like to be a perfect gentleman. Swap places with Carly?’
Diego was on his knees in a blur of movement.
‘Oh well.’ Jackson sighed, looked at Carly. ‘Not so honorable after all, eh? Maybe it’s because he can’t see a lady anywhere in sight.’
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