by Jon Mills
Ruby circled her bike around him as they got closer to her home. She hadn’t stopped yakking since leaving the trailer park. At one time it would have been annoying but there was something different about it when it came from your own kid. It amused him.
“Why have I never seen you and mom together?”
“What do you mean?”
“You are her friend, yes?”
He nodded and his lip curled up, finding her question amusing.
“But I’ve never seen you. Friends hang out together.”
“Ah, yeah, well, I’ve been away.”
“On vacation?”
“Something like that.”
Right then an ice cream truck jingled a tune that would attract kids in the area. It stopped one block down from where they were.
“You want an ice cream?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, why not.”
A few minutes later they approached her house. Ruby had ice cream around her lips and a big smile on her face. It was a red brick house with a front yard that looked as if it hadn’t seen a lawn mower in several months. It was overgrown and several large bald cypress and maple trees out the front provided a lot of shade from the heat of the day. They hadn’t made it within a few feet of the door when Billy came out.
“What are you doing with Ruby?”
“Bringing her home.”
He motioned with his head. “Go on inside.”
“But I…”
“Get inside,” he yelled. Ruby dashed in without hesitation. No doubt this hadn’t been the first time he yelled at her. Jack clenched his jaw. Though he’d been told he was her biological father, he didn’t know for sure and he’d been out of the picture too long to say anything. Now if Billy swatted her, it might have been a different case. Billy closed the door behind him so she couldn’t hear the conversation he was about to have. He stepped out into the yard.
“I don’t know who you are, or what you are up to but I think it’s time you moved on.”
Jack noticed that he was twitching and scratching at his arm. He noticed a few sores.
“You taking meth?”
“What the hell’s it to do with you?”
“Did you arrange for me to speak to one of Tex’s guys?”
“I told you. I’m going to handle business.”
“And if you can’t? What happens to Ruby? To Theresa?”
“Get the fuck out of here.”
Jack balled his fist then looked over his shoulder when he saw movement. Ruby was at the door peeking out. A part of him wanted to put Billy on his ass but he wouldn’t do it with her watching. Jack was still carrying Ruby’s bag. He handed it off to Billy. Billy snatched it from his hand, making it clear he disliked him. Regardless of whether Billy was on meth or not, he could understand not wanting another guy around, especially one he’d never met before. Jack turned around and began walking away. The door banged shut behind him and he paused for a second, listening to make sure that Billy wasn’t taking out his frustration on Ruby. Satisfied, he turned back toward the road. He’d only made it a few feet when he heard feet coming up behind him. That’s when he felt a soft hand reach for his. He looked back and saw the door was wide open and Ruby was holding his hand.
“Thanks for the ice cream.”
He nodded, and his lip curled up.
With that she let go and ran back inside. He stood there for a few more seconds and then continued on his way.
When Isabel arrived at the hospital she didn’t expect to see Theresa so badly beaten. She was sleeping when she came into the room. Isabel took a seat in a chair across from her and studied her face. Had Jack done this?
Over the course of an hour she drank two cups of coffee and waited for her to wake. When she began to stir, Isabel sat upright and smoothed out her suit that had become wrinkled from dozing off.
“Who are you?” Theresa muttered.
She took out her badge and flashed it. “I’m Agent Baker, I was hoping to have a few words with you about Jack Winchester.”
Theresa chuckled a little.
“What’s funny?”
“Not much has changed.”
“You knew him back when he was in New York?”
“That I did.”
“What happened, Theresa? Was it him?”
“Jack?” she snorted a little and then groaned in pain. “Jack would never harm me. He would never harm any woman.”
“He has a rap sheet a mile long. I find it hard to believe that.”
“Then you don’t know him.”
“Maybe you can fill me in.”
“What are you here for?” Theresa asked in a tone that made it clear that she was averse to being grilled by the FBI.
“After Jack got out of prison, numerous members of the New York Mafia were killed. A year later, key figures in the Sicilian family were murdered. A month ago, he not only killed several Triad gang members but we believe he is responsible for the death of several other men. I’m here to bring him in.”
“Whatever they did, they probably had it coming.”
“How so?”
“Jack might have run with the wrong crowd when he was younger but he’s not a cold-blooded killer.”
Isabel stifled a laugh. It was always the same with criminals. Women stood by their men no matter what. They could always see the good in them and never the bad. Whatever they did was justified in their eyes.
“The trail of blood that he has left behind him paints a very different picture of him.”
“I don’t know what you have seen but whoever forced his hand had a choice.”
“So did Jack before he killed them. Theresa, justifying his actions isn’t doing anyone any favors. Murder is murder no matter how you try to spin it.”
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
Isabel shook her head in disbelief.
“Did he do this to you?”
“I told you, it wasn’t Jack.”
“Have you seen him?”
She didn’t reply.
“Theresa, I know he was here. Your work told me. Now all you are doing is preventing me from doing my job.”
Again she didn’t say anything.
“You have a child?”
Theresa’s eyes looked in Isabel’s direction before glancing away. She had no idea if she had a child but usually the mention of one would drive home the point she was trying to make. Those who didn’t would tell you straight away, those who did would get defensive or go real quiet. Isabel knew she wasn’t going to get any more out of her. She needed to let her sit with the questions. Sometimes it just required little bit of time to ponder what might happen if they didn’t cooperate.
She rose to her feet and ferreted inside her jacket for a card. She placed it on the bedside table.
“When you want to talk, phone me. I’m staying at the Crowne Plaza. Room 401.”
Theresa glanced over at the card and Isabel left the room.
Jack slumped down on his bed in his hotel room with a glass of bourbon. He didn’t consider himself a heavy drinker. The years of getting lost at the bottom of a bottle were behind him. It clouded his thinking, caused him to make rash decisions and at times just made him not want to do anything. Thankfully, even the smallest amount, as of late, gave him headaches. As he sipped at his drink he pulled out the crinkled photo of Ruby and stared at her. He placed it on the side table and then went to the balcony. From his room he could hear and see what was going on down on Bourbon Street. At night it was lit up and the sound of music seeping out of bars filled the air. Tourists crowded the streets with laughter, chatter and the occasional fight. Neon signs illuminated the night as Jack leaned against the iron railing. The temperature had dropped considerably since the afternoon, a harsh coastal wind had made its way in and thunder could be heard rumbling in the distance. Behind him the TV was on. The volume was low, barely audible. Jack went back inside and flipped through the channels until he reached the weather channel.<
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Hurricane warnings flashed across the screen. At this point they were just advising people to be prepared. Jack turned it off and chuckled. It didn’t matter what the media said, people would still do whatever the hell they liked, especially tourists who had come down here to have a good time.
Jack’s phone began buzzing. He looked down at the caller ID and saw it was Theresa. When he answered she sounded slightly panicked.
“An FBI agent came in to see me tonight.”
“Who were they?”
“There was just one. A female by the name of Agent Baker.”
Jack stepped out on the balcony with the phone against his ear. She’d found him.
He sighed. “What did you tell her?”
“Nothing. You know me.”
That was one thing he could count on. Theresa had never been the kind of woman that turned on anyone. It just wasn’t in her DNA. She had distaste for the law. He never quite knew why. Perhaps it was because of her frequent run-ins she’d had when she worked at the strip joint.
“What have you got yourself into?”
Jack sucked air between his teeth
“Eddie is dead.”
“What? When did that happen?”
“Long story, I’ll fill you in when I see you. I don’t know how secure this line is.”
“Jack, I thought you had finally got away from it all.”
“I have. I mean… I had. I’m no longer associated with any of the families in New York. I’m trying to start again but, you know how things go. Trouble always seems to find me and walking away from it, well…” He looked at a group of guys with beads around their necks. They had got the season completely wrong. Mardi Gras was in February. They were shouting up at empty open windows asking for women to show their breasts.
“What’s all that yelling?”
Jack walked back inside but didn’t reply.
“Where did the agent go?”
“I don’t know, she left me a card. She’s staying at the Crowne Plaza.”
“Did she give a room number?”
“401.”
Jack nodded slowly, contemplating what to do. Logic told him to pack his things and get the hell out of there. But with Billy having pissed off the wrong people, the thought of leaving without knowing that Theresa and Ruby were safe wasn’t something he could handle. He had to stay.
“Right. Thanks, Theresa.”
“Did you see Ruby today?” she asked.
He chuckled a little. “Yeah, she’s a real firecracker.”
She stifled a laugh. “That she is. She has your eyes, Jack.”
“And your face. She’s beautiful.”
There was silence on the other end. “I didn’t mean…”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Look, I want to help but I can’t force my way into this. Billy has his back up with me being around.”
“Leave him to me. I’ll speak to him this evening.”
“Theresa. You know he’s using.”
She didn’t reply immediately. “Yeah, I kind of figured.”
“Whatever he’s got himself involved in, they aren’t just going to walk away. What they did to you is just the beginning to what they will do if…”
“If?”
There was no easy way to tell her. He just came out with it.
“Billy owes someone forty thousand dollars. If they don’t get it within forty-eight hours, then…”
He heard her curse on the other end of the line.
“Why don’t you just take Ruby and get away from here?”
“Because I love him, Jack. I want to kill him most days, but when he’s not on that shit, he’s… He’s been off it for a year. I can’t believe he’s taking it again.”
“Stress will do that.”
“So will stupidity,” she replied.
Despite her sordid past, Theresa had never touched drugs. In many ways she was a lot like Jack. She liked her drink but that was it. She drew the line at drugs.
“I’ll speak to him. He listens to me.”
“Right.”
Jack hung up and sprawled out on his bed. His thoughts circled around his daughter, Agent Baker and the situation that was looming over them. There wasn’t going to be an easy way out of this. No matter what he did, someone was going to get hurt.
Chapter Fourteen
The information for her place of work arrived in his phone in the early hours of the morning. Giovanni had arrived in New Orleans on a flight from New York sometime in the middle of the afternoon. He had booked into a hotel located down on Frenchmen Street. He’d been waiting for his contact to meet him and growing impatient with every minute that passed.
Eventually there was a knock at the door. He went over and peeked through the peephole. Outside a small guy with a grey suit on, white shirt and no tie looked around nervously. He tapped again. Giovanni cracked the door open and the guy mentioned Salvatore. He let him in and glanced up and down the corridor before closing the door behind him.
“What was the delay?”
“Sorry, my supplier wasn’t available. I ended up going with another one and he was running late.” The guy talked as he walked around. “They got a mini bar in here?”
He pulled open the fridge and Giovanni closed it.
“Do you have it?”
“Yeah.”
He slapped down on the bed a large case. Unzipping the bag, he flipped it back to reveal two Glock G17 pistols, a Marlin 1894 CB .45 Colt and several other handguns with suppressors.
“Take your pick.”
Giovanni picked up a Glock, slapped a magazine in it and loaded a round.
“Hey, hey, what are you doing?”
He glanced at the man before pointing it at him.
“How’s it look?”
The guy put up his hands. “Shit, dude, put it down.”
He released the magazine and pulled the slider back to pop out the one in the chamber.
“I’ll take it.”
“And the rifle?”
“Leave it all.”
“You got cash?”
“Salvatore is handling it.”
“No, no. I’m only taking cash. The last time I dealt with him I told him that the next time I got paid, I received green. I’m not messing around here.”
He placed the Glock back in with the other one and proceeded to zip up the bag.
“Leave the bag.”
“No, fuck that, if you don’t have the green, we’re done.”
While the man was zipping up the bag, Giovanni slowly pulled out metal wire from the back of his ring. It was coiled inside. The man was bent over at the hip and was griping about being ripped off and having people waste his time when Giovanni looped the wire around his neck and tugged hard. Both of them fell back on the ground and the man’s face went a deep red as he continued pulling hard. He reached up and tried to grab Giovanni’s hair but he just turned his head so it was out of reach. Choking and gasping for air he tried to pry loose the wire but it was useless. His legs smashed hard against the bed and they slid back on the smooth floor until Giovanni no longer felt any resistance. He remained there for a few more minutes holding the same amount of tension. There were always the ones that went unconscious. It wasn’t worth taking chances. He kept pulling on the wire until it cut deep into his throat. No sound came from the man and he knew he was dead.
Satisfied, he rolled him off his body and dragged him into the bathroom. He placed his body in the bath, tore down the shower curtain and laid it over him. It wasn’t done as an act of respect, he just didn’t want to stare at his grotesque face.
He shook his head. They never learned.
Returning to his room, he flipped through the phone for the address of Theresa Rizzo’s workplace. It was a block down from him. He adjusted his tie in the mirror and smoothed out his suit. On the floor, the guy’s phone was laying just under the bed. He picked it up and wiped it off. After, he tossed it in with the body before retrieving the t
wo Glocks. He removed his suit jacket, slipped into the gun harness and placed one either side.
It was early morning when he left, though it didn’t appear that way when he stepped outside. It was dark. This was the city that never slept. He slipped down the street barely noticed by the passersby gawking at the strip joints and bars. Some drunk asked him for some money but he ignored him. When he arrived at the hotel he stepped inside, glanced around at the empty lobby, locked the double doors behind him and approached the side of the desk. His eyes drifted around the room looking for security cameras. They were there. They always were. Every hotel was different, some would have them in full sight, and others were hidden. In this case they were hidden. He went up to the door and banged on the side.
“Can I help you?”
A voice bellowed from out back, as there was no one at the front desk. They were probably sitting watching TV. It was rare to find any clerk at the desk in the early hours of the morning. He came around, pulled his gun and hopped over the counter.
“That you can.”
The man’s eyes flared in horror as he grabbed hold of him and forced him back into a small office.
“First, where are the recordings for the surveillance?”
The man pointed to the corner. Down below was a small black machine with lights that flickered. Giovanni yanked it out, cables and all.
“Any others?”
The man shook his head, scared out of his mind.
“Where can I find Theresa Rizzo?”
“Is this a joke?”
“Does it look like I’m joking?”
The man reached for a drawer and Giovanni gave him a look.
“Two other people have been in. She’s in the East Hospital.”
Giovanni stared at him blankly. He still had a firm grip on him as he pulled out his phone, flicked through for a photo of Jack Winchester.
“Was this one of them?”
“Yeah.”
“And the other?”
“FBI.”
He nodded thoughtfully.
The man raised his hands. “Please. I have a kid and wife.”