JT and Tyrell made a brief appearance after they hauled out Vincent and Pudge and told us to wait for them. I figured under normal circumstances, we’d be whisked down to the station to make official statements. The crime scene folks had already swabbed my hand for gunpowder residue and confiscated Vincent’s gun. I suspected that JT and Tyrell were doing everything they could to keep us out of after-arrest red tape so they could coordinate our next step.
Dawg made quick work of Kate, who was all over him, rubbing and smooching and patting his wiggling body. As she sat at the table, Dawg nosed at her lap, trying to keep her hands on his head. He scooted over to Coop for attention and continued around the table, lavishing adoration on all of us. I doubted he’d ever felt this much love in his entire life.
Kate said, “I knew something big was going on.” She fixed me with her trademark I-told-you-so glare. “Now you can’t be mad at me for talking to JT.”
“As usual, you’re right. I don’t know why I bother to argue.” My grin belied the tone of my voice, and I sat back, still feeling thick-headed.
Eddy was relating to Kate every moment of her time in captivity when my cell chirped. The caller ID displayed no number. I stepped outside, quietly shutting the screen door behind me, feeling once again like I was stuck in Groundhog Day.
“Hello?”
The cultured voice on the other end immediately raised the hackles on the back of my neck. “The timeline’s moved up. We want the nuts and the dog now.”
“Now? But—”
“No buts. You bring what we want and you’ll get what you want.”
My mind raced. The Rocky Rescue Plan had hardly been discussed. Coop, Eddy, and I had only the ability to concentrate on the present emergency, and now I realized we were in for more problems yet.
“We need more time—”
Rita butted in, unbecoming edginess pitching her voice up a number of octaves. “Maybe this will clear things up for you.” The sound became muffled, like a palm had covered the receiver. I listened but couldn’t quite make out the brief, jumbled conversation.
Then, “Shay O’Hanlon, ohhh—” the choking sound of a swallowed sob burst through the phone. I’d lost count of the times my heart had stopped in the last twenty-four hours.
Rocky’s voice quavered and he hiccupped. “Shay O’Hanlon, they hurt me so bad, Shay!”
The familiar backyard, the sounds of singing birds, and the whitish-yellow rays of the sun beaming down through leafless branches faded from my awareness, and all I could hear was Rocky’s yip of pain in my ear.
A quick intake of breath came from the other end of the line and then a loud, “Owie!”
“Rocky!” I said. “Rocky—”
“Please, please make them stop hurting me. I don’t like Miss Rita very much anymore, Shay O’Hanlon. Owwwww.”
“Rocky, I’m—”
“Please Shay O’Hanlon, it hurts bad. They said no police officers, Shay O’Hanlon—”
Buzz cut Rocky off. “Listen here, O’Hanlon. I want that truck, and I want my damn mutt. And I want ’em now,” he bellowed in my ear. “Go to that closed gas station next to Grizzly. Park behind the building. You don’t show, and Rita’s gonna do a whole lot more than make snot run from the little crybaby.”
The line disconnected on another yelp from Rocky. I snapped my phone shut and bent over at the waist, chest heaving. Fighting not to throw up, I tried to gain some control over my body. I wondered how much a person would take before they cracked up, broke down, or did both. Panic swirled through my brain.
What to do? I tried to hold my Protector instincts in check, but hearing Rocky’s cries brought out both fury and terror.
“Fuck,” I muttered and stood straight, forcing myself to breathe slow and deep. The nausea subsided somewhat, replaced by full-body shakes. I clipped my phone into its holster on the second attempt and clenched my fists tight. I needed a plan. I had to get Coop and Dawg away from Kate and Eddy without arousing suspicion. Then we had to figure out how to handle this. If I could only get to JT without alerting every cop around, I could explain the latest developments to her.
I jogged around the house and peered through the plate glass in the Rabbit Hole. Detective Johnson was in deep conversation with a couple of guys wearing black suits, and no one looked like they would take kindly to interruption. Four squads were parked in front of the Hole, and a cluster of uniformed cops were engrossed in conversation on the sidewalk.
JT was across the road talking to a man in a white oxford shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. He leaned into her space, his finger jabbing the air forcefully as he spoke. The look on her face alternated between sheepish and defensive. His lips stopped moving and JT started to say something. Then he was back in her face again. I could only assume she was getting a royal ass chewing for not following proper procedure or some other cop infraction.
I could march up to them and ask to talk to JT and in the process piss off her boss even more, or I could try calling her on my cell once we were on the way. The cell phone idea won. I slunk from the front of the house and ran around the building to the kitchen. I paused at the screen door, watching Eddy bang the table with her fist. Kate’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and then her forehead wrinkled as she followed the ins and outs of Eddy’s tale. I felt a twinge at the unfairness of my plight. I wanted to be as oblivious as they were.
With a whispered prayer, I yanked the door open and stepped inside. Coop was leaning back in his chair, one long leg crossed over his knee, a half-grin shadowing his face as he listened to Eddy embellish her story. I caught his eye, and gave a slight jerk of my head toward the door. The front legs of his chair met the floor with a soft thunk and he stood.
I said quietly, “Coop, let’s walk Dawg while Eddy finishes telling Kate what happened.”
At the mention of his name, Dawg bounced to his enormous feet from an old comforter Eddy had laid out for him. His sizeable rear wiggled back and forth at the sound of the word walk, and he skittered over and pushed his body against me in thrilled anticipation. I put my hand on the top of his head, relieved to see my trembling had subsided.
Eddy shot a look at me and then quickly returned her attention to Kate without missing a beat. This version of events had grown epic in proportion compared to the tale we’d heard earlier, and I’d have poked fun at Eddy under normal circumstances.
I called over my shoulder as the screen door slammed shut, “We’ll be back in a bit.”
Kate waved, too enthralled with Eddy’s growing-taller-by-the-second tale to pay much attention.
Coop had one hand wrapped around Dawg’s rope. I grabbed his other hand and dragged him past the garage and into the alley. “Coop,” I whispered urgently. “Come on!”
“What?” He was being yanked in half as Dawg pulled him one way and I jerked him another.
“Things have changed—Buzz and Rita want the nuts and Dawg now.”
“But—”
“Now,” I repeated. “Where’s the truck?”
We sped along the alley, Dawg trotting to keep up.
“It’s a couple of blocks over.”
“You have the keys, right?”
“Yeah … what happened?”
I rapidly filled him in about my phone call.
“Holy shit. But don’t you think that JT—”
“I already tried to talk to her. She was getting a serious reaming from her boss, and Johnson was busy inside with the men in black. I don’t want to get either of them in more hot water.”
“Isn’t that what cops are for? To get people out of hot water?”
I hadn’t thought about it that way. But I’d already burned up too much time as it was. “We need to go. I’ll call her once we’re on the way, okay?”
“Okay. Fine.”
I hazarded a look at Coop as we hurried along the cracked asphalt. His head was down, and his shaggy hair swung against his face, obscuring his eyes. He peered sideways at me, through the fine
strands. “How are we going to get out of this mess?”
The truck was in sight now. I picked up the pace. Even Coop, with his long legs, had to step it up.
“Haven’t got that figured out yet.”
“I need to show you something. Here.” Coop handed me Dawg’s rope. He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a gun. Pudge’s gun.
I stopped dead. “What are you doing with that?”
“The cops busted in and I freaked. With my record, I was afraid …” He trailed off and shrugged. “I stuck it in my pocket.”
“God, Coop, you should’ve—oh hell, never mind. Too freaking late now. Maybe it’ll come in handy.”
“You take it. I can’t believe I touched that instrument of death.” Coop gingerly handed me the weapon. It wasn’t much bigger than the palm of my hand. Not much we could do about it at this point, so I looked furtively around and slid it into the side cargo pocket of my pants. We resumed walking. The gun banged into my knee every time I took a step.
“I was scared,” Coop said. “Stupid, I know.”
“Maybe it’ll be the great equalizer.”
“Or a spike in the coffin.”
_____
The inside of the semi’s cab was dirty and grease-stained, well-used. The cloying odor of stale cigarette smoke and gasoline swirled through the vehicle, making me dizzy.
Dawg perched on the seat between Coop and me, his lip hooked on an incisor, grimacing in as much distaste at his surroundings as we were. Coop sucked hard on a cigarette, keeping it close to his open window, and the smell was almost better than the stale odors that had long ago seeped into the upholstery and headliner.
Sharp metal dug into the soft skin on the side of my knee as Coop wheeled around a corner and rolled down a ramp onto southbound 35W. I gingerly pulled out the weapon and set it on the cracked vinyl seat beside me, careful to keep it away from Dawg’s paws.
My movements caught Coop’s attention. “What in the hell are you doing with that thing?”
I eyed the gun for a moment. “Not sure.”
Coop looked back at the road. “Put it away! You’re going to get us killed.”
“That’s what I’m trying not to do.”
Dawg’s head swung from me to Coop, and then he returned his worried gaze my direction. He settled down next to Coop with a deep sigh, resting his head on Coop’s leg.
“So,” Coop said as he changed lanes and navigated the new maze of ramps of the 35W/Crosstown commons. “How are we gonna play this out?”
Only fifteen minutes had passed since Rita’s call, but it felt like hours. “They want to meet in that lot by the gas station.”
“The one where we parked after George left?”
“Yeah. I suppose they want the truck close to the terminal, but not so close that attention is drawn to the situation if there’s a showdown.” I eyed the gun again and felt a throb of pain in my temple. I focused out the windshield on the car in front of us. It had bumper stickers all over its rear end, but the vehicle was too far away for me to make out what they said. I rubbed my forehead in a vain attempt to calm the thumping that had set in.
“Okay, how about this,” Coop said as he checked my side mirror and shifted lanes. We were now heading east on 494, away from downtown. “We’ll hand this jalopy over to them, get Rocky, and get the hell out.”
I sat silently for a minute. “What about Dawg?”
“What about Dawg?”
“I can’t give him back, Coop. Buzz’ll kill him.”
Coop chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I wonder why Buzz wants the mutt back so bad?”
We both contemplated Dawg’s chances with Buzz. I said, “Maybe because he’s a redneck who can’t stand for someone to have something that belongs to him.” I ran a finger over the ridge above Dawg’s eye. “This time the redneck goes empty-handed.”
“I’m with you.” He held his fist out to me and I knocked it with my own.
“Let’s play it out and go with the flow. It’s more or less worked for us so far.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. Call JT.”
JT didn’t answer, but I left a message and hoped she’d get it soon. I wondered if she was still in the midst of her verbal lashing.
The rest of the ride was uneventful. I knew that as soon as JT found out we’d bailed, there’d be hell to pay, even if I had left her a message. I hoped when this was all over, she’d understand why we took off—provided Coop, Rocky, and I came out of this unharmed.
As the road whizzed by, I thought about my feelings for JT. It’d been a long time since I’d had interest beyond the physical in anyone. I wondered if what I was feeling for her was simply a result of the overly charged emotions that came with life, death, and felonious break-ins.
My musings ended when Coop pulled off the freeway and headed down 61 toward the Grizzly Terminal. After a few minutes, the gas station came into view, and although I couldn’t see it, the entrance to the shipping terminal was only a quarter-mile away.
I opened my cell, found Rita’s number, and hit redial. For an instant I was afraid she wasn’t going to pick up. She did.
“We’re here,” I said without preamble.
“What about the dog?” The sound of Rita’s voice grated on my last nerve.
My throat constricted, but I said, “He’s here, too.”
“Park around behind the building and get out of the truck. Stand in front of it and wait.” She disconnected.
“Go to the back of the station,” I directed Coop. As he slowly eased into the parking lot, I scanned the area for Buzz and Rita. We came to a rumbling stop behind the station, and I wondered where they were.
Coop killed the engine. “Ready?”
“No.”
Neither of us made a move to get out of the cab.
“Do you know how to use a gun?” I asked Coop.
“Are you kidding?” He frowned at me. “I save things, not kill them. The Green Beans would revoke my membership.”
“Just checking.” I picked the weapon up. The metal was cold in my hands, and it felt very final. I didn’t know what else to do with it, so I stuck it in my pants at the small of my back. I had a sudden, frightening vision of it accidentally going off and putting a large hole in one of my butt cheeks.
I looked at Coop. “I love you, you fool. Thank you for being my best friend.”
He eyed me a moment, then reached over and tousled my hair. “I love you, too.”
I caught his hand and pressed it to my cheek, then let it go and opened the door, feeling like we were playing out the disastrous last moments of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
We climbed out of the semi at the same time, and I coaxed Dawg down once my feet were on the ground. Rita and company weren’t in sight, but I felt eyes burning into us from every direction.
Dawg and I met Coop in front of the truck’s massive grille. Stillness pressed down, and the only sound was our shuffling feet on the loose gravel. After a couple of tense minutes, a black Lexus pulled in. It rolled to a stop twenty yards away.
The driver’s door swung slowly open, and a man who could only be Buzz stepped out onto the dusty ground. He was almost six feet tall, with a solid beer belly and an unruly shock of sparse, mouse-brown hair on the top of his head. A thick, ugly moustache sprouted beneath a bulbous nose, and light-colored whiskers covered his cheeks. His facial hair and Rita’s mole-sprouts could really create some hair- and complexion-challenged brats. Ugh.
Buzz wore a faded black t-shirt beneath an unbuttoned, armless green flannel shirt. His Wranglers were held up by a brown belt with a shiny oversized metal buckle that was almost hidden by his overhanging paunch.
He shut the door and stepped forward. Dawg whimpered, cowering between Coop and me. The hard metal of the gun pressed insistently against my back. A drop of nervous sweat slowly trickled down my spine.
Buzz stopped about ten feet away. “Give me the keys and the dog.”
“Where’s Rocky
?” I said.
Buzz glared at me. He swiped a hand over his face and yelled, “Rita!”
A moment later the passenger door popped opened and Rita emerged. Dressed in an expensive, light gray pantsuit she held herself regally despite the desolate surroundings. What did she see in white trash Buzz?
“Get the retard,” Buzz said to her.
Rita opened the rear door and reached inside, bringing Rocky out by the ear as if he were a misbehaving ten-year-old.
“Ow, ow, ow.” Rocky’s voice was hoarse and pain-filled.
Coop stiffened, and I slid my hand slowly behind my back, fingers wrapping around the grip of the gun. Rita dragged Rocky by his ear over to Buzz. Rocky’s head was tilted sideways and tear tracks slowly made their way down his cheeks. “Here’s the crybaby. Now give Buzz the damn keys,” Rita said, the mole on her chin quivering.
Buzz took a step closer and would have taken another, but Dawg growled low in his throat. Buzz stopped and glared at the dog. “You fucking mutt. You’ll get yours.” His weasly eyes shifted between Coop and me. “You stole my damn dog.”
Coop bristled. “We didn’t steal him. He escaped from your abusive bullshit, asshole.”
“Why you—” Buzz cocked his arm and his hand curled into a fist. He made a move to step closer but halted mid-stride as Dawg stood, hackles raised, his growl louder this time, higher pitched, and his long teeth bared.
Rita still held onto Rocky’s ear for dear life, and Rocky’s golden eyes were saucers, his face pale.
“Let Rocky go, Rita,” I commanded.
“Give Buzz the keys,” she countered.
“Let him go,” Coop said.
Dawg was still growling low in his throat and kept his eyes zeroed in on Buzz, daring him to make another move.
“Fine.” She let go of Rocky’s ear and shoved him forward. He stumbled and fell heavily to one knee before he regained his feet and stood, dazed.
“Rocky, walk over to the building and go around to the front,” I said. I wanted him as far away from the Showdown at Forlorn Station as he could get. Rocky blinked slowly at me, and then turned toward the structure and wobbled off on unsteady legs.
Bingo Barge Murder Page 18