by Tracy Sharp
“I’m very sorry, sir.” This was all I could think of to say. I couldn’t very well shove the man out of his car and leave him bawling on the street.
He shook his head. “It’s all right.”
I thought this was a strange thing for him to say.
“Are you okay, sir?”
He nodded.
“You don’t seem okay.”
“They’re taking my house, too. I gotta move out in a week.”
I blinked. What can you say to that? I didn’t think he should be left alone. I was certain there was a rifle or shotgun in the house somewhere, and I’m sure it was looking mighty inviting to old Butch right about then. “Is there anyone you can call? Maybe go visit for a while?”
He shook his head.
Now I really felt bad.
“Well,” he said. “Maybe my brother. Except he’s as big a loser as I am.”
“I think you should call him.”
“He doesn’t have a phone.”
Oh, Lord. This was a nightmare. “Do you want me to drive you there?”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
“All right. Where does he live?”
“In Thornton.”
Thornton was at least an hour away. I was willing to do anything not to have to think about leaving the guy by himself, crying on the street or eyeballing his firearm. The guy was literally losing everything. I didn’t know why he’d lost his wife, but when she’d left he’d literally stopped functioning. His car was probably the only remaining symbol of pride he had left, and I was taking it.
“Okay, sir. Buckle up.” I grabbed my cell phone from my pocket to call Callahan.
I told him I was going on a slight detour and asked him to pick up his Land Rover. It wasn’t exactly a great neighborhood for it to be left in. Cal hadn’t banked on me actually getting the Audi because he paused for a beat before saying, “Christ. What are you? Mother Teresa?”
“Well, I heard there was an opening for her position,” I said before snapping the cell phone shut.
The ride to Butch’s brother’s place had been quiet seeing as Butch had fallen asleep not ten minutes into the ride. This was fine by me. I’m really not much of a conversationalist and I figured that if Butch stayed sleeping, the likelihood of him puking in the Audi was slimmer.
The ride back, however, was plenty eventful. I’d driven maybe a half hour and had stopped for a red light when I noticed movement in my side mirror. Someone was running toward the Audi. Instinctively, I reached out for the power locks to lock all the doors but it was too late. Almost simultaneously, two men entered the car, one on the passenger side and one directly behind me in the back.
“Drive, bitch.” The voice came from the man in the back and was devoid of emotion. He could’ve been talking about the weather. Like it was a situation he was in every day. He pressed something sharp against the side of my neck and I felt something warm dribble down my skin.
“You’ve been causing all kinds of trouble to a friend of ours.” The man beside me sounded cheerful. “And now we’re going to return the favor.”
“At the next light, turn onto route 180,” the man behind me said, his breath hot in my ear.
Route 180 turns into an old, not very well-driven road, and if I turned onto it, I probably would never be coming back.
I said nothing, kept calm, and drove right past 180.
The knife went a little deeper into my neck. “You’d better turn around right now or I’ll stick you, bitch.”
I pressed my foot onto the gas and the Audi shot forward. I felt the knife slice through the side of my neck but didn’t feel any pain.
“Slow down!” The man next to me was sitting ramrod straight, one hand against the window, the other jammed hard onto the seat. “Now!”
“Nah. I’m having too much fun. What’s the matter? Don’t you like to drive fast?”
The knife flashed in front of my face and then came to rest on my throat. “Slow down, or so help me I’ll slice you from ear to ear.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. Not unless your friend here’s really fast at shoving a dying, blood-spurting body from this car. That also might draw a little attention.” I kept my foot on the gas, right down as far as it would go.
“Shit!” The man beside me looked as if he’d push himself right up through the roof.
The knife disappeared. “Okay, slow down. The knife’s gone.”
“Nope.” I took us flying through the next exit onto the lawn of the local library and headed for the first tree I could find.
“SHIT!” The man beside me was hysterical. He fumbled for the door handle and kept missing it. Finally, the door flung open and he launched himself out of the Audi. I slowed the car just enough that I wouldn’t kill myself during impact, braced myself, then hit the tree on a right angle.
The man in the back came flying forward, hitting his head on the windshield and crumpling down between the floor and seat like a rag doll.
I unlocked my seatbelt and climbed out of the car. I scanned the area, and saw the man who’d been sitting beside me trying to run on what looked like a broken foot. He wouldn’t get far.
I moved my head from side to side. Other than the gash on my neck, I seemed to be in good shape. I sat on the steps of the library and waited for the police and ambulance, hoping that Callahan had good insurance.
Chapter Ten
“That was a tad bit radical, don’t you think?” Callahan sat in front of me, gripping his frosty mug as if it would somehow anchor him to his seat.
We were in a pub down the street from the library called the Four Leaf Clover. They had good sandwiches and frosty mugs. I love frosty mugs. I’d let the paramedic bandage my neck but refused to go to hospital.
“Yes. However, as I explained to you before, the man had a knife at my throat and they weren’t taking me to a church picnic.” I took a bite of my turkey club and chewed for a moment in an attempt to let my temper settle down. “I had to do something to draw attention.”
“Honking your horn and speeding down the highway wouldn’t have done it?”
I gave him my best “are you an idiot” look. “Please. Teenagers do that every night.”
“True.”
“Look, I’m sorry about the Audi. I really am. I had to do something. Those guys were going to do some very nasty things to me, if not out and out kill me. I had to take control of the situation.”
“You did that all right.” He grinned. “I’m glad you’re okay. Even if I do sound like a jerk right now.”
“It’s okay. I understand. You’re still a business man after all. These are extenuating circumstances and your insurance does cover it right?”
He sighed and sat back. “I don’t know if deliberately running into a tree is covered. We’ll see.”
I focused on my sandwich, suddenly feeling grim. The job wasn’t what I’d hoped for, that was for sure.
“I do know one thing. You’re not repossessing anything on your own for a while.”
And for once I didn’t argue.
* * *
“How are you?” I asked my little brother. He sat across from me in the visitor’s room, dressed in prison clothes.
“I’m good, sis. I’m good.” He nodded his head as if trying to convince himself.
But I knew better. There was a kind of wild, barely contained panic shining in his grey eyes. He gave me that same, lopsided grin, but it never touched his eyes like it had before he came here. He tossed a lock of strawberry-blond hair from his forehead. He was handsome. He’d inherited his square jaw and ruddy complexion from our father. I’d inherited my dark hair and eyes from our mother who had some kind of Latin blood running through her veins.
“I wish I could use the computers. I mean, I can understand not giving me Internet access, but they won’t even let me near the friggin’ computers.”
I gave him my “as if” look. If they let him near any of the computers, even if the computer wasn’t hooked up to the Int
ernet, he’d find a way to give that computer Internet access. He’d get his hands on a wireless network card. He’d find a way. They knew better.
He sighed. “Looks like I’m doing better than you, though.” He snapped his gum.
“Why, do I look bad?” I knew I did.
The dark circles and luggage beneath my eyes couldn’t be hidden by any amount of make-up. Of course, the gash on my neck made me look pretty rough. Jesse probably assumed I’d done it to myself somehow and didn’t ask about it. Instead, he went right to what he thought the heart of the problem was.
“Nightmares getting bad again?” His eyes were gentle on my face.
I looked away to another table where a woman with two toddlers visited her husband. She wore a pretty, blue dress and a brave smile.
“Leah.”
I looked at back at Jesse, feeling exposed. We’ve always been close. As far back as I could remember, we’ve always known what the other was thinking, feeling, without words.
“Yeah.”
“I guess it doesn’t help for me to tell you for the millionth time to let it go.”
I shook my head, grinning despite myself. I’d always been the stubborn one.
“You need to cut it loose. You’ve tortured yourself enough for something that was never your fault.”
“I was the older one. She was my responsibility.”
“No. You were a kid. You had no control over the situation.”
I sighed heavily. We’d been through this so many times before. It was old territory. “I got a dog.”
His eyes brightened. He loved dogs. “Really? What kind?”
“Rottweiler. He’s a big boy.”
“All right! Now that’s a dog! How’d you end up with him?”
“He decided to relocate from his previous residence. I suggested we become roommates. So far he seems pleased.”
“I’m sure he does. I bet you spoil him rotten.”
I smiled.
“Can’t wait to meet him when I get out of this place.”
“It won’t be long now.”
“Nope.” He tapped his foot nervously on the ground. He was still the same kid, but there was an edge to his gaze now. A kind of hyper-awareness. I knew there were things that he’d gone through behind these walls that he’d never tell me about.
There was a tight grip around my heart and I couldn’t stand to see the look of contained terror in his eyes as he stared at the wall.
I forced some cheer into my voice. “Got a new job, too.”
“No shit. What are you doing now?”
“I’m an auto recovery agent.”
His face lit up. “No way!”
“Way.” I nodded, enjoying his reaction.
“That’s awesome! You steal cars legally. That’s a hell of a job!”
“It keeps me occupied.”
“You think your boss would hire me?” His eyes were hopeful. “Man, I’d love a job like that.”
I shrugged. “I can ask him. Let’s get you out of here first, okay?”
Visiting time was over and prisoners clung to their loved ones desperately. I hugged Jesse the same way, patting his back to try to mask the sadness that consumed me and wrapped around my heart until it was hard to breathe. He gently pulled away, rubbing my shoulders.
I gestured to the bag on the table. “Don’t forget your care package.” Jesse loved Snickers bars and gum. The bag was chock full of them.
He picked up the bag and held it close to his chest. “Thanks, sis.”
For a fleeting moment I could see the little three year old boy who loved to help, smiling from ear to ear as he wiped down the chairs in my father’s pub. A wet rag gripped firmly in his tiny hand as he scrubbed little circles around the seat of a chair.
“I’ll see you in two weeks.”
He nodded, tossing me a grin that fell from his face before he could fully turn away.
Chapter Eleven
It was Saturday, and the repo depot, as I’d grown fond of calling it, was closed. Cal believed that even auto recovery agents deserved a day off during the week. I could see by his inability to remain still for even a short moment that his mind was always on the job. He was always scheming, always trying to figure out the most effective way of repossessing a vehicle. Mostly it was trial and error. You learn from your mistakes, or you might end up with a serious injury. Or worse.
Probably this constant restlessness accounted for his hanging out with me while I watched Brent Woodard. I still had no vehicle, so we were driving around in a red 2009 Ford Taurus. Not too beat up, but not shiny and new, either. His sparkly Land Rover would’ve drawn too much attention. We parked down the street from Woodard’s house and waited, eating bagels with cream cheese and drinking coffee until he finally emerged. Woodard was never alone, and on this day, he was followed by two of his underlings. They seemed comfortable on their turf, so they didn’t look around much.
After collecting his cash from his dealers and hookers coming off the night shift, Woodard and his two buddies jumped into the Porsche they’d chased us in a couple of nights before. We gave them plenty of room while we followed them. I didn’t think we’d be as lucky in a second car chase.
The Porsche pulled up to the curb a few blocks over, stopping in front of a large and battered old Victorian that looked as if it had been chopped up into apartments. A chainlink fence encircled the sides and backyard of the house. Two thin pit bulls ran from one side of the backyard to the other, snarling and barking at anyone who came close. I wondered why the dogs were in the backyard, behind a fence. Then I figured there must be a way in from the back.
Woodard and his friends got out of the Porsche, scanning the road briefly before climbing the stairs to the house.
“Now what do you suppose he’s got hidden up there?”
Cal kept his eyes on the house. “I know that I don’t want to find out. Whatever it is, it isn’t going to be pretty.”
I felt my eyes narrow as Woodard and his cronies took a long time in the house. It had been forty-five minutes by the time they came walking out. Woodard was stuffing a wad of cash into his wallet once again.
“Man, this guy is rolling in it,” Cal said. “I’m in the wrong business.”
I threw him a disgusted look. “Don’t even joke like that. The guy’s pond scum. He makes a living off people’s misery. He’s going down.”
“I don’t like the sounds of that.” He watched me with a wary eye. “We’re just watching him, remember?”
“Uh huh.”
The Porsche took off, burning rubber as it went.
“Don’t follow them,” I said.
“Why not?”
“I want to see what’s going on in this house.”
Cal sighed. “It’s going to be a long day.”
“There’s a gas station a street over if you need a pee break,” I told him.
“I’d rather go in the woods than step into the bathroom in that place.” He shuddered. “Makes me itchy just thinking about it.”
We settled in and watched the house, taking turns pressing the buttons on the radio. We both like a lot of the older stuff from the seventies and eighties and when the really techno stuff came on, we couldn’t punch a button fast enough.
The house had a lot of traffic. It was amazing how many Joe Regulars entered the place. Just normal guys who you just knew had families at home. Many of these guys were business men. They had the news-anchor-type hair and wore business suits and gleaming shoes that made clack-clack-clacking sounds when they walked.
“Man, I hate it when guys wear those shoes. I always think it’s a woman, and when I turn to look at her, it’s one of those guys.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, God.”
“No, seriously. That’s false advertising.”
“False advertising?”
Callahan nodded. “Yup.”
I sighed. My palms were sore from making fists all day. I wanted more than anything to go barreling into that hous
e, guns blazing. I figured it was probably wise to know what was going on in there first. I have a history of poor impulse control since my teens. Anyway, I’ve learned over the years that it’s better to do some investigation before entering, or causing a situation.
After five hours of watching the house, we were about ready to leave for a while, maybe come back later. Just as Callahan started up the car, a large cube truck came lumbering along the street, parking in front of the house.
Cal turned the car off. “Well, well, well. Now what do you suppose is in that truck?”
I could easily guess. And I was right.
The driver, a burly man in his mid-forties with a beer belly, climbed out of the truck. He wore a dingy baseball cap, a t-shirt with a logo I didn’t wish to read, and worn jeans which hung on his hips. I just knew that if he bent down the crack of his ass would be winking at us. He picked his nose, flicking snot away as he made his way to the back of the truck.
“Classy guy,” Callahan observed.
I watched, my body rigid as he opened the doors. He motioned impatiently for the passengers to come out.
I grit my teeth as a line of Asian females, some who couldn’t be more than twelve years old, jumped from the back of the truck to the ground. Many of them pleaded with the man for water. He pretended not to understand them, waving a hand dismissively and shaking his head. These women and girls were exhausted and certainly dehydrated. They looked as if they might pass out.
“Jesus,” Callahan breathed.
“What do you think the price of a glass of water is in that house?” I clenched my hands to stop them from shaking.
He said nothing for a long moment, and then he said, “I think we can call the cops now.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Give me your cell phone.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here first.”
Chapter Twelve
I let Cal make the call. I was too pissed off to speak without yelling. When he clicked off his cell phone he wore a look of relief. “They’re going to check it out.”