by Jon Mills
Jack stared off into space, oblivious to what was happening around him.
Dalton looked at the clock. He only had a few minutes. He got up and walked over to the window and opened the drapes to let some of the sunshine bathe Jack’s face. “I told you not to follow after her. You didn’t listen. You never listen.” Dalton took his seat again and placed his head in his hands. In the silence only a clock could be heard ticking, then a mumble. Dalton turned but Jack’s lips weren’t moving. He was beginning to think he was hearing things. “Look, I have to go but I will be in touch again soon. I…”
“Gafino,” the word came from Jack’s lips as a whisper.
“What?” Dalton leaned in to hear him better. Jack repeated it again.
“Gafino? Roy? Was this Roy? Is he alive?”
His lips moved but each time he just kept saying the same thing. Then he realized Jack wasn’t just saying one word but two. The first word was barely audible. Dalton placed his ear within breathing distance of Jack’s mouth, but he still couldn’t discern the first word only the second.
“Gafino,” Jack said again.
“Gafino? Is that who did this?”
Jack never moved his head to acknowledge him but just continued to repeat the name ever so quietly. Right then the door opened and Boone stuck his head in. “Time’s up, Dalton. Let’s go.”
“Just a minute. He said something.” Dalton leaned in closer. “Was that it, Jack? Is that who did this? If it was, just tell me. Let me know somehow.”
“His finger is moving,” Boone said.
“What?”
Boone gestured with a nod of the head to Jack’s left hand. He saw the index finger go up. Dalton placed his hand on it then asked Jack again. “If it was him, move your finger for yes or don’t move it for no.”
Five, ten, twenty seconds passed. “Was it him, Jack?”
HIs finger moved. Dalton gripped his shoulder. “I’ll look into it. Trust me. I’ll be back. I gotta go now.” He got up and walked over to the door. The security guard muttered something to Boone just as Dalton gave one last glance at Jack. It pained him to see him that way.
As they left the hospital, Boone asked, “Did you get what you need?”
Dalton nodded, deep in thought.
Twenty minutes later, Boone dropped Dalton off outside the Evergreen Motel. “You sure I can’t persuade you to have dinner with my family?”
“Uh…” He glanced over at the motel as he leaned into the car. “Look, if things don’t work out here, I’ll take you up on that offer.” Dalton patted the top of the SUV and closed the door. Boone honked the horn and pulled away. He knew he was going out on a limb and Karen would no doubt ride his ass over this but he had to know what this reporter had dug up. A quick stop in the main lobby and the girl snapping gum behind the desk told him the room number. Dalton straightened out his shirt and ran a hand through his wavy hair before heading down to her room and knocking. He turned and looked out at the gravel lot. There was a motorbike, and a black Ford sedan nearby. From inside he heard a rustle. Feet making their way to the door.
“Can I help you?” a female voice asked from behind the door. She’d obviously looked through the peephole.
“John Dalton. Here to see Kelly.”
A chain slid, and the door opened. She was younger than he imagined, early twenties, attractive, dark wavy hair and petite. She wore tight jeans and a white blouse with flats.
“John Dalton…and there was me thinking you would never return my calls again.” She stepped to one side. “Come on in.”
The room was cramped, stuffy and typical of any roadside motel in a small town. One queen-sized bed, an ancient TV and the decor was circa 1990s. A guy in business attire stood up from a chair near a small table at the back of the room. He flashed his pearly whites as he came over to greet him. “The man of the hour,” he said gripping his hand and pulling him in and patting him on the back. He whispered in his ear. “You might have just saved my bacon.”
“Excuse me?”
Kelly gestured to him. “This is Zach Larsen, a…”
“Boyfriend,” Zach said before she could finish.
“Zach, shut up,” she added while frowning. “He’s not my boyfriend. More of an annoying fly I just can’t seem to get rid of. Which reminds me, you should be heading out now.”
“I think not! Things are just getting interesting,” he replied, slumping down in his chair and reaching for a pack of cigarettes.
“You can’t smoke in here.”
Zach looked at Dalton. “Do you have females in your life who give you this much hassle?”
“Zach.”
He threw a hand up. “All right, princess, I’ll go outside.” He trudged towards the main door mumbling under his breath. As soon as he was out of the room Kelly gestured for Dalton to take a seat at the table.
“Sorry about that.”
Dalton brushed it off. “It’s fine.”
“Any news?” she asked getting straight to the point.
Dalton glanced around the room looking for any electronic devices. He would have been hard-pressed to see them with technology today getting smaller and smaller, but he knew reporters enough to know they would secretly record if it meant getting a soundbite. “Off the record?”
“We’re not even on,” she said taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “That’s not how I operate, Mr. Dalton.”
“No? Then what brings a woman like you all the way from San Francisco to pursue a man like Winchester? As I imagine the city gets enough titillating events to keep the Chronicle busy all year.”
She nodded. “It does but it’s not often you get a story slide across the table like this, and then when you follow it up, find yourself deep in a disappearance. Call it the reporter in me but it was hard to walk away.”
Dalton grinned. “Yeah. I bet.” He looked down into his hands and then back at her. “The guy outside. Colleague?”
“Afraid so. But don’t worry about him. Did you see Winchester?”
He nodded. “I did.”
“I thought you might contact me to invite…”
He raised a hand. “It’s not as easy as that. A lot has happened since we last spoke.”
“So why the visit?”
He swallowed. He didn’t want to admit he needed her help as that could lead to her trying to negotiate a story out of this but the truth was, without getting to the bottom of who Jack was referring to, he was operating on empty.
“You know much about his court case?”
“A little. Why?”
“What can you tell me?”
She smiled. “I’m asking you the same thing.”
“I think you know a little more than I do.”
“Nothing that can’t be found online,” she replied. “I’ve not had exactly much luck digging around in Apalachin but Zach was about to go there.”
“Why?”
She got up and went over to the coffee machine that had finished brewing. She poured herself a drink and offered him one but he declined. Kelly took a sip before replying. “The doctor who was assigned to his case said that Jack had delusions of being in a car crash with Dana. The police never found any record of the crash or Dana.”
“Okay. But even if the vehicle was removed and her body dumped, they would still have records of her being missing from Colorado.”
“You’d think so. Whether or not they have followed up is unknown. Police aren’t speaking to the media and I phoned all the towing companies and wreckers’ yards. To their knowledge there was no vehicle involved in a crash that matches the description of the vehicle.”
Dalton shook his head and bit down on his lower lip. His brow furrowed and he balled a fist. “They’ve just thrown the book at him.”
She nodded. “Case closed. Man found with meth in his system surrounded by a dead family and in possession of the murder weapon. They’re not going to listen to him. That takes time, money and ultimately interest in him, and with his backgrou
nd, they’re probably just happy to see him off the streets.”
Dalton agreed. “So why head to Apalachin? What do you hope to achieve there?”
“Someone has to have seen him or heard something. I figure I can dig around and come up with some answers.” Kelly paused for a second. “What did Jack say?”
“He didn’t… say much.” He dipped his chin. “Except a name. Gafino.” He looked at her. “Does the name ring a bell?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Well I know that Jack used to work for someone called Roy Gafino but he’s dead. Unless of course it’s a family member.”
Kelly nodded and reached for her laptop and fired it up.
“Well let’s see what we can find.”
Dalton got up and leaned over her to see the screen.
Several articles released in the local New Jersey paper around the time of the explosion at the Pig’s Ear recounted the death of Roy Gafino. It also had listed the name of family members. Roy had an older sister but she was in her sixties, and he had one son named Angelo, but he had died many years before him.
“Why would he mention that name?” Kelly asked.
Dalton thought back to how he found him. Jack was in a trance state as if all cylinders weren’t firing. Anyone else might have written it off as the mad babblings of a man who was drugged up or suffering from some brain condition, but not him. He’d asked him directly. The movement in the finger seemed to give him some indication that Jack was still in there, still functioning, still thinking clearly even if his body couldn’t sync with his mind.
“I don’t know but I plan to find out. You think I can hitch a ride with you to Apalachin?”
“I wasn’t planning on going.”
Behind them the door closed; they didn’t even realize it was still open but obviously Zach had been eavesdropping as he was quick to chime in. “Of course she’s going.” He grinned. “In fact, I think I can smell a road trip,” he said snatching up the keys. “I’ll drive.”
8
Flashes of his face appeared in his mind’s eye. Jack writhed in discomfort. Had it all been a dream? He felt like he was trapped in a nightmare from which he couldn’t escape. Every now and again his eyes would flutter and he caught glimpses of daylight, and heard beeping. Where was it coming from? What was it? Caught between the dream and waking state he shifted back and forth. Memories formed, merged together, a wicked collection of events from his past, his youth, his former life as a mobster.
The feeling of a breeze against his skin.
Then he was there, at the top of a tall building overlooking Jersey City.
It was the Merrill Lynch Building, located in the business district, one of the tallest buildings in New Jersey. The memory no longer seemed like an event from his past but it was occurring before him in real time and yet somewhere in his mind he knew it wasn’t real. A dark sky with pinpricks of light enveloped him as he turned at the sound of his name.
“Come on, Jack, give me a hand.”
Jack turned to see Angelo Gafino shoving a businessman with a square jaw towards the edge of the building. Then it all came back. A guy who had screwed over Roy Gafino, an accountant who had skimmed money off the top. Jack latched onto the thin as a rail man and lifted him over the edge as he pleaded for his life. Angelo had one leg while Jack had the other. They dangled him while the man cried and made promises he couldn’t keep. They all did it. Every damn one of them. Had they been smart they would have stayed clear of Gafino. His reputation throughout Jersey was notorious, his taste for violence even more so.
“You shouldn’t have done it, Harry,” Angelo said.
“Come on, guys. I can get the money back plus interest.”
Angelo seemed to be enjoying himself more than Jack. Jack’s mind was elsewhere. He was going through the motions. Collecting debts was second nature to him, like throwing out trash or brushing his teeth. What little empathy he had was buried and gone. He felt nothing. Just numb. No fear of repercussions. No concern for this man’s life.
“Oh, trust us Harry, we’ll take that interest from your wife.”
“No. Please.”
Angelo laughed like a hyena. He released his grip then latched on again, sending a shot of pure fear through the victim. “What do you say, Jack? Shall we paint the town red?”
Jack didn’t respond. He was staring at the man, looking him in the eye. In all the times he’d murdered people he never spent long looking at them. He didn’t relish his work as some thought he did. It was a means to an end.
“Jack?”
He snapped out of his trance state. “Yeah.”
“It’s time.”
“No! Please!” the man cried out, a final attempt to appeal to them.
Angelo Gafino released the leg he was holding but Jack held on. The full weight of the guy was pulling him over. A part of him wanted to hold on, to go with him, to drop and end it all.
Angelo tapped him. “Jack, let go. What are you doing?”
He didn’t reply.
“Jack!”
Then just like that he came to his senses and let Harry go. His body disappeared into the void; they were too high up to hear the sound of him hitting the pavement forty-two stories below. It was meant to look like a suicide, and it would if they left quickly.
Angelo chuckled. “Want to get a beer before we pay his wife a visit?”
Jack was still staring down. Angelo patted him on the shoulder. “Man, what the fuck is up with you tonight?”
“I… I was thinking maybe we should leave her.”
“Leave her? You heard what my father said.”
“She doesn’t know anything.”
“We don’t know that.”
Jack turned and walked towards the exit on the roof. “I’m not doing it.”
“Hey. Hey!” Angelo bellowed. Jack stopped and cast a glance over his shoulder. “It’s not personal, Jack. Just business. Remember that. Don’t you be going all weak on me.”
“I’m not,” he said reaching for the door handle and entering the stairwell.
As they descended, Angelo wouldn’t let up.
“You know rumors are starting to circulate, Jack.”
“Yeah? I don’t listen to them. Wouldn’t know.”
“Well I know. Mike Peterson’s girlfriend. Billy Johnson’s daughter. They’re still alive. I didn’t say anything to my father but you do know what will happen if he finds out.”
“He won’t.”
Angelo grabbed him. “If I did, you’re damn sure he will.”
Jack shrugged him off and continued on.
“How long have I known you, Jack?”
“Too long,” he muttered.
“You’re like a brother to me. That’s why I haven’t said anything. But like any brother, I’m going to tell you when you’re getting too close to the edge and trust me, you are. My father might favor you but he has his limits.”
Jack chuckled as they exited the building through a side fire door and melted into the crowded street. Taxis honked their horns. Steam drifted up through the metal grids in the sidewalk. Headlights washed over them. Bicycle messengers shot by nearly colliding as they crossed the road.
“When did you give a shit about your old man?” Jack asked.
“I don’t. He’s never once had my back, but you… I’m still alive because of you, Jack. So as a friend, as a brother, I’m asking you.” He stopped for a second and grabbed hold of Jack. “No, I’m telling you. Whatever the hell is going on in your head right now. Deal with it and fast, otherwise this shit is going to catch up with you. Now, I’m heading over to Harry’s place tonight and I want to see you put a bullet in that bitch’s head. You understand?”
They continued walking.
He said nothing.
Angelo grabbed him. “You hear me?”
Jack spun and grabbed him by the throat and threw him up against a wall. “Don’t ever tell me what to do. You want to kill her. You fucking do it yours
elf. I’ve done my work for the day.” Angelo stared back, speechless. Jack let him go and walked off into the night. Angelo yelled after him.
“You’re making a big mistake, Jack. You’re weak, Jack. You’re weak!”
And just like that his eyes snapped open and he shot upright in bed. The world around him spun as if he’d had too many drinks. His jaw ached and his head was throbbing. Jack touched his temples and noticed the skin felt like leather as if scarred. He felt an acidic taste form. He bent over and his stomach lurched, projecting vomit to the floor. Right then two security guards entered.
“Oh shit! Man, get a nurse.”
A security guard came over, bent at the waist and placed a hand on his back as he continued to throw up. “I thought you’d be dead by now. I don’t know why the state uses my tax money to keep you alive. If I had my way you would be sent to the electric chair. It’s a pity that ECT machine didn’t fry your brain. Maybe next time, right?” He chuckled. Out the corner of his eye Jack saw the guy’s baton. As if a light switched on, Jack knew what to do. He snatched it out of the duty belt and in a flash struck the security guard’s legs then followed through with one to the head. The guard collapsed in the vomit, groaning. Jack got out of bed. As soon as his legs hit the cold floor, they buckled as if he had no bones in them. He grabbed the bed and tried to support himself and then staggered over to the door. He had to escape. This was his one chance.
He swung the door open and was about to leave when the security guard who had heard the noise, tackled him. They slid across the smooth floor and the guard tried to restrain him but it was useless. Jack cracked him in the side of the face, twice, and then scrambled out the door. He turned to his left then right then bolted for the stairwell just as a third guard spotted him.
“Stop!”
He didn’t waste a second. Wearing nothing more than a hospital gown he flew down the stairs, strength returning to his legs, fueled by adrenaline. A female doctor emerged from a door on the second floor and screamed as he shot by her. When he made it to the ground floor, he was disoriented by the layout and went to the right when he should have gone left but it didn’t matter. The corridor ended at an emergency exit, he burst through it. Daylight stabbed his eyes and he squinted as he brought an arm up to block the glare. Another surge of sickness and he threw up again. The sound of boots behind him forced him into action. Jack staggered towards the parking lot, unsure of where to go or what to do. Although his mind and body were in sync, he still wasn’t feeling 100 percent. Hit with another flash of horrific memories and he stopped running. His mind screamed for his legs to keep moving but they were frozen, held by the past, held by the horrors of his former life.