by John Rector
He did.
“Come on, Matt. Calm down.”
“Give me the number.”
Jay looked past me to Roach, then shook his head. “It’s too soon. I want him to sweat. I the lightnes out of ’ll call in a few minutes and then we’ll—”
I swung, putting all my weight behind the punch, and connected just beneath Jay’s ribs. I felt something give, and he dropped, struggling for breath.
Roach closed on me, slapping me, screaming.
“Don’t fucking touch him.”
I put my hand on her chest and pushed her away. She hit the desk chair, tripped, and fell backward, hitting the ground hard. She stayed there, staring up at me.
I bent down and started digging through Jay’s pockets until I found the business card with the old man’s number.
Jay moved to his knees, still struggling to breathe.
I stood over him. “Once this is done, you and I are through. I don’t want to see you or hear from you again.”
13
Outside, the snow had started to fall, and the wind came off the river in sharp, freezing gusts. I pulled my coat tight as I crossed the gravel lot to my van. I got in and tossed the gun into the glove compartment. Then I started the engine and turned on the heat.
My hands were shaking from the adrenaline, and I squeezed them together tight. I could feel the tension racing through me, and I slammed my fist against the steering wheel again and again, trying to let it out.
It didn’t work.
Every bad thing I knew about Jay had shown itself. I’d hoped he was different since coming out of prison. But he wasn’t, and now it was up to me to do damage control.
If there was a way to fix the situation, I couldn’t see it, and the more I thought about it, the worse it all seemed. I couldn’t take the woman home, and I couldn’t walk away and leave her with Roach and Jay.
I was stuck.
I knew I had to make sure she was safe, and that meant everything from here on had to go as planned. The only way out that I could see was to keep moving forward.
I had to make the call.
But first, I needed to calm down.
I leaned back in the seat and counted each breath, trying to clear my head. Outside, there was a long line of cottonwood trees stretching along the road leading down to the river. Their branches were stripped bare by the season, and they stood, black and cold, silhouetted against the white sky like deep cracks in the surface of the world.
I stared at them for a long time.
Eventually I felt my muscles begin to relax, and soon the world slipped back into focus.
I took the phone from my pocket and looked down at the number on the back of the business card. I knew I had to call, but I didn’t know what I was going to say.
Jay had put everything together. He had a location for the drop all set to go. It was a seldom-used bus stop on Fourteenth and Carmine. It seemed like a risky spot to me, but he’d insisted. He said he’d checked it out several times, and it was perfect.
I felt like a fool for trusting his opinion after all that had happened, but we were in too deep now.
Besides, I didn’t have a better idea.
I opened the phone and dialed the number. I paused at the end and took a deep breath, trying again to steady myself. Then I hit the Call button.
The phone rang twice.
The man who answered didn’t say anything at first. He just breathed into the phone, slow and steady.
Then he said, “Has she been harmed?”
It was an obvious question, but for some reason it stopped me cold. He had a faint accent that I couldn’t quite place, and I wondered if this was really the same old man Jay and I had watched on TV that night in the bar.
“Not yet,” I said. “But that depends on you.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s safe, but if you want her back, you need to do exactly what I say.”
Silence.
“Put five hundred thousand dollars in a bag and take it to the bus stop on the corner of Fourteenth and Carmine in one hour. Put the bag under the bench and wait for the number eleven bus. When it arrives, leave the bag and get on.”
I asked if he understood, but the only sound I heard was his breathing.
“I don’t think I have to tell you to come alone,” I said. “Or what will happen to her if the police become involved.”
The breathing stopped.
“I do not involve the police in my personal affairs.”
“That’s good,” I said. “If you do exactly what I’ve asked you to do, I’ll call again in a couple hours and let you know where you can pick up your wife.”
“I won’t be the one coming,” he said. “Someone else will be there in my place.”
“As long as they bring the money, I don’t care.”
The man hesitated, then said, “One hour.”
The line went dead.
the light6s out of I lowered the phone and flipped it shut and stared at the snow swirling outside the window. After a while, I started to imagine what the old man was thinking, the pain he must be feeling, what he was going through.
All because of me.
I tried my best to push these thoughts away, but it was too late. I couldn’t do it. My chest felt tight, and my mouth was dry and tasted bitter. I swallowed hard, hoping it would go away, but it didn’t.
I stayed in the van for a while longer before gettingre? You’
14
At first the words didn’t cut through. I heard what she was saying, but the meaning was lost. It didn’t make sense. All I could do was push past her and walk down the hall and into the main room.
The woman was still in the corner, handcuffed to the pipe, pillowcase over her head.
Jay was a few feet away, lying on the floor by the desk. He had one arm up over his head, and the other was pinned under him. His eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling, and there was vomit around his mouth and on the front of his jacket.
His lips were blue.
“Oh, Christ.”
I ran over and dropped to my knees. I put my head to his chest and listened, but there was no sound. I rolled him onto his side then forced his mouth open and stuck my fingers down as far as they’d go, feeling for anything that might be blocking his air.
I saw Roach come up slow.
“What the hell happened to him?”
“I don’t know.” Roach folded her arms over her chest. “I swear I don’t know.”
Her voice was too high, too fast. She was panicking, and unless she calmed down, things were going to get worse. came around the cornerarAK. It was
“Just calm down,” I said. “Tell me what happened.”
Roach didn’t answer, just stared at him.
“Rochelle?”
She looked at me. “I told him it was too much, but he didn’t listen. He said we had to get rid of it before you came back, that you’d—”
“Goddamn it.” I pulled Jay up to sitting and slapped his face, hard, calling his name. “Wake up!”
Nothing.
“This is your fault,” Roach said through tears. “You told him to get rid of it. You said—”
“Jay!” I shook him, not liking the way his head rolled, heavy and loose on his shoulders. Eventually, I eased him back to the floor and felt his neck for a pulse.
I didn’t find one.
I closed my eyes and sat on the ground beside him.
Roach watched me, and when I looked up at her, she shook her head and backed away.
I knew what was coming.
“Don’t.” I pushed myself up and moved closer to her. “I can’t have you losing it, not right now.”
Roach didn’t look at me, and I’m not sure she heard me at all. Whatever was going on in her head, it didn’t have anything to do with me.
“He can’t be dead,” she said. “Do something.”
“I can’t. He’s gone.”
“No.” Roach backed away. “He can�
��t be dead. He can’t be.”
Behind us, the woman giggled, bright and childish.
Roach turned on her fast, crossing the room to where she was sitting. I tried to grab her, but she pulled away, never slowing, never taking her eyes off the woman.
When she got close, she reached for the pillowcase, ripped it away, and slapped the woman, hard. “Shut up!”
The woman stopped laughing.
Roach raised her arm to hit her again, but I grabbed her and pulled her back. Roach fought, but I didn’t let go.
“Fuck you, Matt! This is your fault. Your fault!”
I pushed Roach away and looked down at the woman.
The left side of her face was bright red, and there was a thin line of blood at the corner of her mouth. I watched as she reached up and touched the blood with her fingertip. She looked at it, then up at me, her eyes bright and clear.
I dragged Roach out of the room and into the hall. She fought me every step, and when I finally got to the door, I kicked it open and pushed her out into the cold.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“She’s laughing at us. Jay’s dead, and she was laughing.”
I stood in the doorway, unable to stand still. “Now she’s seen our faces.”
“Our faces?” Roach stared at me, a mix of hatred and confusion in her eyes. “Jay is dead.”
“She can ID us now,” I said. “Because of you.”
Roach stepped back, shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, not anymore.” She turned and started came around the corneros out of walking toward her car. “It’s all over.”
“Where are you going?” I asked. “What about her?”
“You’re in charge now, right? You do what you want.”
I thought about going after her, but I didn’t. There was no point. Instead, I stayed in the doorway, feeling the cold air rush past me into the room. I watched Roach climb into her car and pull away, leaving me alone.
The woman was sitting with her legs crossed at the knee, leaning against the armrest of the chair. She watched me as I came in. I didn’t say anything to her, and I didn’t try to hide my face.
The damage was done.
I walked over to Jay’s body and stared down at him. Some people weren’t meant to grow old, and Jay had always been one of them. Still, part of me couldn’t believe he was gone even though he was lying right in front of me.
I knelt down beside him.
All the color was gone from his skin, and his lips looked blue and swollen. One eye was open, and I reached down and tried to push it closed, but it didn’t stay.
I stopped trying and ran through my options.
Thanks to Roach, the woman knew what we looked like. She could ID us, which meant I couldn’t let her go, at least not until I had the money. Once the old man paid, I’d have no choice but to take Anna and run.
It wasn’t what I’d hoped for, but it was better than prison.
I tried to think of a different way out, but nothing came to me. I had to get the money, which meant I had to stick to Jay’s plan. I had no other choice.
I reached down and hooked my arms under Jay’s shoulders. I wanted to get him out of the middle of the room, but he was heav “Jay?&#
15
Jay had been right about the drop spot.
Fourteenth and Carmine was surrounded by office buildings. They were all closed for the day, and there were no people on the street. It was quiet, deserted, and accessible from multiple routes.
It was perfect.
I pulled into the parking lot across the street and shut off my headlights. The snow was still falling, and I kept my windshield wipers going while I waited.
The silence was nice, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Jay. I knew I had to get him out of my head. If I didn’t, if I lost focus and started replaying what had happened, something would go wrong, and I couldn’t afford to take that chance.
I looked down at my watch. It’d been an hour since I’d made the call, and there was no sign of anyone.
I tried to ignore the empty feeling building inside me, but it was hard to do.
Something was wrong.
I took the phone from my pocket and flipped it open and found the old man’s number. I was about to hit the Call button when I saw a man stumble up Fourteenth Street and turn onto Carmine. When he got to the bus stop, he sat down and began fishing through his pockets. He took out a single cigarette, straightened it, then put it to his lips and lit it with a match.
I watched him shake out the match and drop it on the ground by his feet. Then he inhaled deep and leaned back, stretching out on the bench.
I checked my watch again.
I thought about the old man telling me he wouldn’t be the one coming, but I also didn’t think this was the guy.
A few minutes later, the number eleven bus pulled up and stopped in front of the bench. No one got off, and when it pulled away, the man was still lying there, staring up at the cold gray sky.
I thought about calling the old man again, but decided against it. Instead, I opened the door and got out and crossed the street to the bus stop.
I approached slowly, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be watching, but the street was empty, and there was no one else around. As I got closer, the man stirred, but he didn’t look at me until I was standing at the end of the bench.
When he saw me, he sat up.
“Who the fuck are you?”
There was a loose slur to his voice, and I could smell the wet, spoiled stench of alcohol on his breath.
“Are you the guy?” I asked.
“The guy?”
I looked back over my shoulder at the van and said, “You have something for me?”
“What?” The man tried to push himself up, but his balance wasn’t there, and he sat back down. “What the fuck do I have for you? What the hell is wrong with you?”
I backed away the lighted it as came to me, then turned and crossed the street toward my van.
The man on the bench yelled after me. “That’s right, motherfucker, I’ve got something for you, and you better run before I give it to you.”
The empty feeling inside me was deeper now, growing black, and I did my best to ignore it. When I got closer to the van, I heard a sound coming from inside.
The phone was ringing.
I ran over and pulled the door open and reached for the phone. The ID read “Unknown Caller.” I answered it. The voice on the line was rough and deep, and I recognized it immediately.
“You’re late,” I said. “You’re not taking this situation as seriously as you should.”
“That’s certainly not the case.” The old man’s voice was calm, even. “I’m taking this unprovoked attack on my family very seriously. As a matter of fact, it’s the only thing I’ve focused on for the last several hours. You could even say, I’ve put you at the very top of my priority list.”
I didn’t say anything. Something wasn’t right.
The old man waited for me to speak, then he exhaled into the phone and said, “Are you still there, Mr. Caine?”
Mr. Caine.
Everything inside me fell away and was replaced by a burning panic that filled every part of me, turning the world black. I could feel myself slipping away into that darkness, and I fought it the best I could.
“How—” My voice cracked. “How do you know my name?”
“I know quite a bit about you,” the old man said. “And now that we’re on more equal ground, I thought we could discuss a renegotiation.”
“Renegotiation?”
“The price you’re asking,” he said. “I believe—”
“How do you know my name?”
“Mr. Caine, I—”
“There is no renegotiation,” I said. “This isn’t a fucking game.”
The old man didn’t say anything right away, and I waited. My chest ached, and I could feel my heart slamming against my ribs, making it hard to concentrate.
I
forced myself to stay calm.
“No, not a game,” the old man said. “Not in any way.”
“Then bring the money to the location we discussed.” I looked at my watch. “You have fifteen minutes.”
“And what about the man on the bench?” he asked. “Do you think he’ll be gone by then?”
I leaned forward and scanned the street, looking for any other signs of life. There were no other cars on the block, and the parking lot was empty.
I was alone.
“Where the hell are you? How do you—”
“Mr. Caine, I’m going to make this simple.”
“How the fuck do you know my name?”
The old man stopped, sighed, then spoke slowly, as if talking to a child. “There are two hundred fifty-three Chevy cargo vans registered in the metro area. Out of those, only thirty-six are white. Of those thirty-six, the light pointed asi b thirty-three are registered to private shuttle services or rental companies. That leaves three privately owned.”
“You guessed?”
“I don’t guess.”
“Then, how?”
The old man paused. “Out of those three, Mr. Caine, yours is the only one not currently parked at your house.”
Silence.
It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, the panic I’d been fighting back broke and ripped through me.
My house.
There were no words.
16
The snow covering the highway was gray and cut through by black tire lines stretching out into darkness. There were hidden patches of ice along the road, and each time I hit one, the van would shift and my heart would climb higher into my throat.
I didn’t slow down.
I reached for the phone on the passenger seat and called home. It was the third time I’d tried, and the result was the same.
No answer.
I dropped the phone back on the seat and squeezed the steering wheel so tight my fingers ached. I could feel the tension clawing its way up my spine and worming its way into my brain, making it impossible to think clearly. Once again I tried to tell myself that everything was okay, but the closer I got to home, the less I believed it was true.