by Amy Lane
Jackson nodded. “He’s safe,” he said briefly, telling Ellery that even if Jackson was cooperating, he wasn’t all bubbling with trust just yet. “But those pills could be important. So are Townsend’s stats in Vegas.”
Hardison was the one who made the connection. “Oh Jesus. People bet on college athletes all the time. If Townsend gets pulled before he even starts, they can advance someone else and make money.”
“That’s what we were thinking,” Henry said, coming up behind him.
“How’s our school teacher?” Jackson asked quietly—but then, his whole body was going quiet.
“In need of her husband and a lot of wine,” Henry said. “And the principal, that guy over there?” He nodded at an extraordinarily tall, fortyish gentleman in a pair of khakis and a polo shirt.
“I see him,” Jackson replied.
“Well, he told her that she had a month off with pay in her contract to deal with any repercussions from school violence. I told her to go for it,” Henry said, and Ellery and Jackson both looked to where the woman stood, shaking, with a friend’s arm around her shoulders.
“Why the foil blanket?” Jackson mused. “I’m so damned hot!”
“Not everyone’s Superman like you are,” Henry snipped back, and then he stopped and took a good look at Jackson.
“He’s not looking like Superman,” Ellery said quietly. “Jackson, how are you feeling?”
“I’m fi—” Jackson literally stopped himself in the middle of the word, closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m a little woozy,” he admitted, wobbling on his feet. “Did I mention it was really fucking hot?”
“It is,” Ellery said. “Henry’s going to take you to my car and start the engine.” Ellery pressed his keys into Henry’s hand. “I’ll finish here.”
“I really am fine,” Jackson said, nodding like he could make it so.
“You’ve been back for two days,” Ellery told him, trying not to snap. Damn the man—two days! “Did you even eat lunch?”
“Yes,” Jackson said.
“No,” Henry said at the same time. “Bought me lunch, but I suspect he gave his to the nice teacher lady who’s about to get a month vacation.”
“That might never be enough,” Jackson said soberly.
Henry nodded. “Well, no. It really might not ever be enough. But that’s not our fault. I was eating lunch, and you were hanging up her posters, and if you hadn’t made sure both of us were safe, someone might have shot until they hit something. Good call on having me stack the desks by the way. One of the shots went wide and came through the actual wall instead of getting stopped by the door. It glanced off that slick Formica and got lodged in one of those boxes of paper. Saved my life.”
“We used to have lock-down drills,” Jackson mumbled as Henry kept steering him toward the car. “The things you learn growing up in a war zone.”
“You know where the water is!” Ellery called, and he saw Henry nod and Jackson drifting a little on his feet.
“Not such an action hero after all, is he?” Fetzer said on half a laugh.
Ellery gave her a look that should have dropped the air temperature from “incendiary” to “tolerable.” “He had heart surgery eight weeks ago. We’ve been keeping him out of the heat until he got the green light to come back. He came back early because he thought these kids were important. Is there anything else you can tell us?”
Fetzer and Hardison both looked a little embarrassed.
“Well, now that you made us feel bad about that,” Fetzer muttered, “no. But the guy who didn’t cut up his ass collected shells for us using a piece of paper and an unsharpened pencil. We can get those to forensics and see if they can run the prints.”
“Good,” Ellery said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We can look up Ty’s standing among the bookmakers, and see if anybody bet either against him or for anybody else who was up-and-coming. I’m pretty sure Jackson knows people.”
“I can check with my sources too,” Hardison said frankly. “Me and Adele’s husband place a bet every now and then. We give our runner free pizza when we win.”
Fetzer rolled her eyes. “If you only gave him food when you won, that kid would starve. But yeah, you check your sources, we’ll check ours. And we’ll let you know what our canvass of the kids coming out of activities tells us.”
“And who got their shoes stolen,” Hardison chimed in.
“If you could phone myself or Mr. Rivers with that information, I would be very grateful,” Ellery told them. “Right now I need to make a phone call and authorize a police escort for Mrs. Eccleston, and I need to….”
He looked toward the car and saw Jackson, head between his knees, losing what looked to be mostly stomach acid on the pavement.
“Get your guy out of the sun,” Fetzer told him. “I hear you.”
Ellery turned toward the car without another word, texting Arizona as he went.
JACKSON WAS in the front seat, leaning against the headrest, door closed, air-conditioning on full blast as Henry ran the engine. Ellery knocked on Henry’s door, and Henry slid out, heading for the back seat, but not before he had his own say.
“He bought two sandwiches,” he muttered. “Gave one to the teacher, gave one to me. Wasn’t particularly hungry all day.”
Ellery thought about their morning and about the acid rumbling in his stomach and sighed. “Well, neither was I. I’m sure if he hadn’t needed stitches in his ass—”
Henry tried bravely to contain a snicker, and Ellery let a smirk creep out.
“It’s not funny,” Henry said, obviously trying to be a better man.
“Only because it’s Jackson,” Ellery told him, losing against the smirk before clubbing it back into submission again.
“Okay, yeah,” Henry agreed, letting a giggle escape.
They both sobered at the same time.
“Yes,” Ellery conceded. “If Jackson hadn’t been injured, he probably could have eaten something now and been fine. But there’s a ticking clock here, and he’s trying to race it. And I don’t think he’s going to be taking good care of himself until those kids are safe.”
Henry rubbed the back of his head. “Well, Ziggy Ivanov’s a problem,” he admitted.
“And so’s Dima Siderov. An even bigger problem.”
Henry nodded. “Yeah. So everything we’re doing is to what? What’s our endgame here?”
Ellery had to stop and think about that one. Originally it had been to get Ty and Tage cleared of all charges. Tage had been cleared, but they were still trying to get Ty off. But the case had grown since then too.
“I need to think about that,” he said, voice low. “Let’s get Jackson some water, some food, his meds, and maybe get him home and let him rest.”
“Good luck with that,” Henry muttered.
“Well, food first.” Ellery’s stomach made an unmistakable—and unmistakably embarrassing—sound. He’d ignored the sandwiches Jade had brought in for the same reason Jackson had ignored his. “Would probably be a good idea for the both of us,” he said. “And then we can come up with a plan.”
THE CAR was quiet as Ellery found a chain sandwich place to park in front of. Henry offered to go inside, and Ellery let the car idle, checking Jackson every so often to make sure he was okay. His color was improving, and his breathing getting better too. After about five minutes, he sat up a little more and grimaced.
“My. Ass,” he muttered. “Fucking why?”
Ellery let out a strained chuckle. “I have no idea. Why’d you skip lunch?”
Jackson had been wearing a faint smile, and it faded now. “Because I…. God. After this morning, could you eat?”
“No,” Ellery said softly. “No. Tage’s brother and sister are trapped in hell, and we are—”
“Helpless,” Jackson muttered. “Except I keep thinking that if we have enough evidence, enough information, we can do something about it. We can get Ty off, we can find out where those kids are bein
g taken. We just need the right amount of pressure to apply to Dima Siderov, and we can get it done.”
Ellery looked at him with troubled eyes. “Dima Siderov is a pretty big fish,” he said softly. “And he’s surrounded by his own personal army of sharks. I’m not saying I’m not willing to go down fighting with you, but I was kind of hoping for a couple of years together before our bodies hit the floor.”
Jackson winced. “Yeah. Me too.” He let his tired eyes meet Ellery’s, and Ellery saw an amazing thing.
Hope.
“Maybe we don’t take down Dima Siderov all in one bite,” he said softly. “Maybe we stick with Ziggy Ivanov and see if we can get him. Ziggy’s a captain. He wants to go higher in the organization. If we can… I don’t know. Not so much get him to turn on Siderov, because that’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?” Ellery asked curiously.
“Family. James Cosgrove wasn’t thrilled with what happened to Ty Townsend. I think that’s why he was killed. He said something to Ziggy about it the night Ty got arrested.” Jackson sighed. “It was so sad. According to Nate Klein, James said, ‘But Ty was my friend,’ and Ziggy said, ‘But he’s not family.’”
“Mob family,” Ellery murmured.
“Yeah, and Mrs. Eccleston backed it up. Cosgrove wasn’t his original name. His family changed it. So his family is in with the family, and he asks somebody to back off Ty, and Ziggy executes a kill order, framing Tage and taking his brother and sister since he won’t be there to stand up to them, since his parents won’t or can’t. So Ziggy killed Cosgrove, and he might know where the kids are. If we can get him to tell us where the kids are, we can save Dima Siderov for another day.”
“So that’s our solution,” Ellery said. “Henry asked me what our endgame is. For right now, our endgame is Ziggy Ivanov and getting Tage’s siblings back.” He took a deep breath. “And we use Ziggy to help the DA build a case against Dima.”
“And invest in Kevlar underwear,” Jackson said grimly. “Because if Dima finds out about us….”
Ellery took a deep breath. “Maybe you should call your lawyer friend back this afternoon, after I take you home.”
“Take me what?” Jackson sat all the way up and then collapsed back against the headrest again. “My head hurts,” he said, his voice humble. “Why does my head hurt? My ass is what should be hurting.”
“Dehydration,” Ellery said. “Your body is not quite recovered, and you didn’t eat. C’mon, Jackson, I know you’re not dumb.”
“Gah!” Jackson took a deep breath. “Some food, some water, and then we need to visit Ty so I can talk to him, okay? And we need to warn him and his family too. And Tage’s parents. They might talk to us when they won’t talk to the police.” He leaned forward gingerly and fumbled for the glove compartment where Ellery had started to keep the ibuprofen after he and Jackson had become a thing.
Ellery watched him for a moment, trying to decide if he was angry or not. Jackson had made promises about taking care of himself, about being truthful regarding his health, and about balancing his own welfare and Ellery’s peace of mind against his impulse to go out and do his job.
Watching as the man he loved fumbled for painkillers and then wash them back with a swig of water actually stilled the thundering in Ellery’s own chest.
“Jackson, on a scale of one to ten, how do you feel?”
“Ellery—”
“Please. Humor me.”
“A four, with room for improvement,” Jackson said, closing his eyes against the sunlight.
“Given that Henry, Galen, and I still need to file an insurance claim before this investigation can move forward, how urgent is it that you come back with us after you go home and change?”
Jackson took another deep breath. “A five,” he said reluctantly. “I can do some of the interviews on the phone.”
Ellery swallowed and nodded. “You know, I shouldn’t have hung up on you when you told me you were getting your ass stitched up.”
Jackson let a pale smile slip through. “You were pissed. It’s my second day out. What should you have done?”
“I should have made sure you were okay,” Ellery said soberly.
Some of the tension eased from Jackson’s smile. “If I was telling you I needed stitches, I was definitely okay.”
Ellery snorted, some of his own tension fading. “You couldn’t have thrown down a shirt or something? God, Jackson, it’s like Sean ended up in the hospital and you were trying to keep up!”
“Oh hell no! I need to call K-Ski and then talk to his partner.” Jackson let out a sigh. “By the way, poor Sean. I knew that conversation with the fireman didn’t look good, but getting dumped on your ass in the hospital? That’s not friendly.”
“Yeah, you so expected me to do that the first time you ended up there,” Ellery recalled fondly, remembering Jackson coming out of the anesthesia, wondering what Ellery was doing there and why he hadn’t left yet. The panic, the worry; that had been new, but still, Ellery had known he couldn’t desert Jackson then.
He’d never been able to leave. Not where Jackson was concerned.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Jackson murmured. “I… I’m not sure if I tell you that enough. You had every reason to walk away back then, and only a few more reasons to stay now, honestly.”
Ellery let out a short bark of laughter and reached over the center console to capture Jackson’s hand. Just as their fingers brushed, Henry opened the back door in a huff, letting the soggy scorching air of August into the car.
“God, that took forever,” Henry muttered. “I can’t even believe how hard it was to order three simple sandwiches.” He rooted through the bag and handed Jackson a paper-wrapped packet. “Here. Eat now. Your complexion is making me itchy.”
Jackson took the sandwich from between the seats and did a double take. “Wait. Three sandwiches? Didn’t I just feed you?”
Henry shrugged. “Yes. It was great. I think you should do it again. Sorry, Ellery, no change. Can I eat back here?”
“No!” Ellery said at the same time Jackson said, “Sure, knock yourself out, but be prepared to detail the car on the company dime if you spill.”
Ellery backed out of the parking lot, huffing out in exasperation. “Jackson, it’s not even your car!”
“And why is that?” Jackson asked bitterly. “You have bought me my last three SUVs. I have money. Maybe, before we go get a kitten together, we should get a car, don’t you think?”
“No,” Ellery and Henry said at the same time. Ellery let out a disgruntled breath and realized Henry was an ally. “Henry, you may eat back there, but please clean up any spills.”
“Will do, chief. I’ve got a bottle of magic stuff back at John and….” He deflated a little. “Goddammit. I’m pissed. Shooting up John and Galen’s car. There was no need for that!”
“I don’t think it was on purpose,” Jackson mused, nibbling on his sandwich in an experimental way, like a rabbit with a new strain of lettuce. “I think those were the shots that went through the entire room. There were only a couple. Unfortunately one of them went into the radiator and another went through the windshield.”
“Well, I’m glad they didn’t go into the kids on the practice field,” Henry muttered. “But other than that, it still pisses me off. John and Galen didn’t deserve this.”
“Neither did poor Mrs. Eccleston,” Jackson said glumly. “I swear, that woman was so happy to have someone bring her lunch, it made me want to start a movement or something.”
“We’ll check on her when the case is over,” Henry told him, sounding bored. But Ellery recognized the words for what they really were, an unconscious way to soothe Jackson and keep him from fretting over how frightened the poor woman must be after the shooting, to keep him from feeling like he’d brought too much trouble to her door.
“Why did someone shoot at us while we were there?” Jackson asked. “That there is the big question. I mean, we assume it’s to stop you and
me, but why when we were in there with a civilian? What were they trying to stop us from learning?”
“Well, Sparky,” Henry snarked, “that’s what we’re going to have to discuss. After you eat.” He paused. “You made sure she was being watched over, right? In case whoever it was tries again?”
“Yes,” Ellery interjected before Jackson could say anything. “I texted the DA, and she made sure there was a police presence at Mrs. Eccleston’s home and an escort to work until the shooter is apprehended.”
“Good,” Jackson and Henry said at the same time.
“You know,” Henry said into the silence afterward, “I was in the middle of a war, and I get why Kevlar was needed. Doing what Jackson and I do, I can see why I might need to get fitted for a lightweight tactical vest, just on, you know, the off chance someone’s going to shoot at us. But she’s a teacher. She shouldn’t have to worry about wearing a full metal jacket, you know?”
Jackson grunted in agreement, chewing—thank God—an actual bite of sandwich. “The idea that people expect that to be a job requirement is unreal,” he said after he’d swallowed. “But in this case, I think it was very specific to the mob ties between Ziggy and Dima. You know, she told me that James Cosgrove wasn’t his original name. I wonder if we could look up and see what his original name was and why someone would want to cover that up.”
“And we never did get around to asking her about Ziggy,” Henry said glumly.
“No,” Jackson agreed, “but as Ellery just reminded me, I can do some damage on the phone this afternoon while you guys go out and get a rental for Galen and John.”
Henry grunted. “So you’re going back to the air-conditioning to rest? And we don’t have to fight you or put you in an armlock or anything? Seriously?”
“Well, Ellery may want to hide the keys to the Tank, but if he does that, I’ve got no choice but to stay home and be a good boy,” Jackson admitted.
On the one hand, Ellery’s chest buzzed with the knowledge that Jackson’s promises were being kept to the spirit as well as the letter.