Ruthless

by John Rector

  I told him I would, but before I could say anything else, he turned, tapped the roof with his hand, and walked back into the garage. He stopped just inside and pulled the overhead door closed.

  Charlie had never been one for good-byes.

  Traffic heading into downtown was light, and it didn’t take long to get back to my neighborhood. When I pulled off the highway, I drove past Mickey’s, then turned onto Tenth and headed south toward my apartment. I drove slow, scanning the street for anything that looked out of place.

  Nothing did.

  I parked a block away and walked up the alley to my apartment. If someone was watching my building and waiting for me to show up, I figured they’d most likely watch the front door. I didn’t know if that was true or not, but it made me feel better.

  The alley behind my building was empty. As I got close, I fished my keys out of my pocket and flipped through them until I found the right one. Then I unlocked the back door and went inside.

  The rear stairwell was dark and the air smelled wet and sour, like rotting wood. The blue and green carpet on the stairs was worn to thread in the middle, revealing the scarred floors underneath. There was a single lightbulb mounted on the wall, but the shadows in the stairwell were thick, and the light didn’t cut through.

  Once I got to the third floor, I opened the door enough to look out. From where I stood I could see my apartment and the long, empty hallway leading toward the elevators at the front of the building. I walked quickly to my apartment, unlocked the door, and went inside, sliding the bolt lock behind me.

  I set the manila envelope and my keys on the table, then went through the apartment, checking all the rooms and closets. When I was sure that I was alone and everything was the way I’d left it, I went back to the living room and grabbed my cell phone from the coffee table and called Mickey’s.

  A girl, whose voice I didn’t recognize, picked up after the third ring. There was a lot of noise in the background, and she yelled into the phone. “Mickey’s.”

  “Is Mickey around?”

  She told me she’d check. A couple minutes passed, then Mickey picked up. I told him who it was. Then I heard someone in the background shout and laugh.

  Mickey sighed, said, “For Christ’s sake, hold on a minute.”

  He put the phone down and said something to someone off the line. A moment later another line picked up and Mickey said, “Okay, got it.”

  There was a click, and the background noise was gone.

  “Nick?”

  “You sound busy.”

  “Some insurance convention over at the Hilton. They picked this place to get away from it.”

  “Champagne troubles?”

  “Depends on how you look at it,” he said. “I take it that blonde’s husband never tracked you down.”

  “He wasn’t her . . .” I caught myself before I said anything else. As much as I wanted to tell Mickey the truth, I figured the less he knew, the safer he’d be.

  “Has he been back?” I asked.

  “Not while I’ve been around,” Mickey said. “Sounds to me like you dodged a bullet.”

  We both laughed, even though I didn’t find it funny.

  “Have you thought about the game this weekend?” he asked. “I need to know if you’re in.”

  “I’m not,” I said. “I’ve got to leave town for a while.”

  “How long?”

  “Not sure.” I walked across the living room and into the kitchen. “A while.”

  “Like a week?”

  “Longer than that.” There was a dirty plate in the sink and two empty paper cups on the counter. I dropped the cups in the trash, then took a beer from the refrigerator. “Closer to a year.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  I told him I wasn’t.

  Mickey hesitated. “You’re not telling me something.”

  I walked back to the living room and grabbed the manila envelope off the table. Then I sat on the couch and took a long drink, choosing my words carefully.

  “Something came up,” I said. “It’s a new start and a good opportunity.”

  Mickey exhaled into the phone. “Damn, and I was looking forward to seeing the look on my dipshit brother-in-law’s face when we took all his money.”

  I smiled. “Next time.”

  Mickey and I talked for a while longer. I told him I’d stop by to settle my tab before I left town, but I didn’t know if I’d be able to keep that promise. I hoped I could. I liked Mickey. He was one of the few people I’d miss when I was gone.

  After I hung up, I leaned back on the couch and put my feet up on the coffee table. It was nice to be home, and I sat there for a while just enjoying the feeling.

  It’d taken a long time to get used to living alone. Kara and I had been together for nine years, and when we split up the adjustment had been more difficult than I’d expected. It took a while before I appreciated having a place all to myself, and now I was leaving it behind.

  I finished my beer, then went back into the kitchen for another. I didn’t know how long it would take before Charlie heard back from his contact at the police station, but I figured I had a few hours to kill, plenty of time to finish off the last of the beer in my refrigerator.

  I opened two and carried them out to the living room. When I got to the couch, I set the bottles on the coffee table, then took the flash drive out of the envelope.

  I turned it over in my hand.

  Eventually, curiosity got the better of me. I grabbed my laptop, turned it on, and plugged the drive into the side. When I clicked on the icon it prompted me for a passkey.

  I frowned, drank the rest of my beer, and then closed the laptop. I pulled the flash drive and dropped it back in the envelope, then started working on the second beer.

  I stayed on the couch for a while, looking around my apartment and thinking about what’d happened over the past couple days. I didn’t want to leave, not without Kara, but also because this was my home. When I finished my second beer, I got up and headed to the kitchen for another.

  As I passed the bookshelves, something caught my eye, and I stopped.

  There was a check sitting on the top shelf. It was propped against a framed photo of Kara that I’d taken on our honeymoon, and as I reached out to pick it up, everything inside me fell away.

  Even without reading it, I knew.

  It was the check I’d left for Mickey.

  7

  I dialed Kara’s number and listened to it ring while I went through my apartment again, searching all the rooms for anything else I might’ve missed the first time. After the fifth ring, it rolled over to voice mail.

  “Shit.”

  I hung up and dialed again. This time Kara answered.

  “What do you want, Nick?”

  There was an edge to her voice, and it surprised me, but it didn’t stop me. She was home and she was safe.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  Kara paused. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “When you didn’t answer, I thought maybe—”

  “I didn’t answer on purpose,” she said. “But I knew you’d keep calling until I did.”

  “I was worried about you.”

  “Worried about me?” Kara laughed. “Come on, Nick.”

  “I don’t know why you’re angry, but I didn’t call to—”

  “You know exactly why I’m angry.”

  I stopped talking.

  “Answer one question for me,” Kara said. “Can you do that?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “What gives you the right to check up on me?”

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

  “Answer the question.”

  I frowned. “I was worried about you, Kara. I had a bad feeling, and I wanted to hear your
voice, that’s all.”

  “Why couldn’t it wait until today?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about last night,” she said. “You know I’m working two jobs right now. What were you thinking calling me in the middle of the night?”

  I opened my mouth, but there were no words.

  “You can’t do that, Nick. It’s not okay.”

  I felt a small knot of fear form in my chest, and I swallowed hard against it. “What time last night?”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Kara, I didn’t call you last night.”

  She sighed. “Your name came up on my phone. I know it was you. Please don’t lie to me.”

  I took the phone away from my ear and checked my call history. Kara’s number was at the top. Two calls just past 3:00 a.m.

  The knot in my chest grew.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  “I’m listening.” I put the phone back to my ear and tried to think. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Did you think I had someone over? Was that it?”

  “No,” I said. “I—”

  “Because that is none of your business. We aren’t together anymore. I can do what I want.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  Kara was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, the edge in her voice was gone, replaced by a tired sadness.

  “Don’t do it again, Nick. We’ve been getting along lately, and it’s been nice. We’re not seventeen anymore, so don’t act like it.”

  As she spoke, I walked back to the bedroom and took an old gym bag from my closet. I unzipped the top and started shoving clothes inside. I thought about telling her the truth about what’d happened, but I didn’t want to drag her into it if I didn’t have to. She’d put up with enough from me over the years, and I didn’t want to add anything new to the list.

  “I’d like to talk to you,” I said. “It’s important.”

  “Talk about what?”

  “About us,” I said. “Our future.”

  Kara exhaled into the phone. “I’m not in the mood right now. I didn’t sleep last night, and—”

  “I have to leave town for a while.”

  Silence.

  I kept talking. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I’m leaving tonight.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Her voice sounded thin and empty. “Do I even want to know why?”

  “One of Charlie’s friends has a place in Mexico. He’s looking for someone to stay down there and do a few repairs.”

  “Why you?”

  “Because I can do the job,” I said. “And a change of scenery might be nice.”

  “You’re not exactly the lie-on-the-beach type.”

  “Maybe not,” I said. “But I want to try, and I want you to come with me.”

  Kara was quiet.

  “Are you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “It could be a new start for us,” I said. “This place is right on the ocean, and it’ll be just the two of us.”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “Kara . . .”

  “Do you owe someone money?”

  “No,” I said. “Nothing like that.”

  “Then what is this?”

  “I thought if we went away together, just the two of us, that we could fix things.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious.” I shoved the last of my clothes in the bag and set it by the door, then reached under my bed and pulled out my gun safe. “I want us to start over.”

  Kara hesitated. “No, Nick.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re asking me to pack up and leave everything in my life behind after you’ve proven that you can’t be trusted.” She paused. “Of course I won’t go with you.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed, silent.

  I’d prepared myself for her to say no, but I wasn’t ready for the finality of her answer or for how sure she sounded about the decision. Hearing her say no hit harder than I’d expected, and it stung.

  “I thought we were getting better.”

  “We are, but . . .” She paused. “Nick, there are some things we need to talk about.”

  “So talk.”

  “Not now,” she said. “I’ll come by your place tomorrow.”

  “I’m leaving tonight,” I said. “I’ll come over there and we can—”

  “No, Nick.”

  I stopped talking. “You don’t feel anything for me anymore?”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “Then I don’t get it,” I said. “Why not try again? We can make it work this time.”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “Should I?”

  I wanted to say yes, but I couldn’t.

  “What can I do?”

  “Tell me the real reason you’re leaving town.”

  “I told you, Charlie has a friend who needs someone—”

  “Not that bullshit story. Tell me the truth.”

  “That is the truth.”

  Kara sighed. “Good-bye, Nick.”

  “Wait—”

  “Tell me the reason you’re leaving, or this conversation is over.”

  “Kara, wait a second, I—”

  “Last chance.”

  Again, I thought about telling her everything, and this time I almost did, but then I thought about the check I’d found sitting next to her photograph and I changed my mind. It could’ve been random, but I didn’t think so. He’d chosen that spot because he’d wanted to send a message, and it’d worked.

  Until I had a better idea about what was going on, I couldn’t risk telling her the truth.

  “If you come with me, I’ll tell you everything.”

  “Jesus, I knew it.” She laughed. “Is this really the life you want?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were happy at the paper,” she said. “You had a career. What happened?”

  “The Internet,” I said. “Sign of the times.”

  “Blame the world if you want, but you never even tried to find another job. You gave up and you decided to play cards instead.”

  “We needed the money.”

  “No.” Her voice was sharp. “You do not get to blame this on us. Everything you did was your choice. You made your own decisions.”

  “I wanted to take care of you.”

  “I never needed you to take care of me.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then explain it.”

  I tried to keep my thoughts straight, but the conversation was spiraling away from me, and I didn’t know how to stop it.

  I decided to be honest.

  “I still love you,” I said. “And I want you back.”

  “For how long?” she asked. “How long until you disappear again? How long until I get a call saying you’re in jail, or in the hospital because someone caught one of your moves and beat you half to death?” Her voice cracked, and when she spoke next there were tears behind her words. “I can’t do that again, Nick. I won’t.”

  “You’ll never have to.”

  “You say that, but—”

  “Let me prove it to you.”

  “It’s too late, Nick.”

  “Come with me,” I said. “I’ve been waiting for the right time, and this is it. This is our chance.”

  Kara didn’t say anything for a long time.

  Then she did.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “You waited too long.”

  The line clicked, and she was gone.

  I sat on the edge of my bed with the phone pressed ag
ainst my ear, listening to the silence. I stayed there for a while, letting her words sink in. Then I hung up and looked down at my watch.

  It was getting late.

  I got up and opened the top drawer of my dresser and took out my passport and a small silver key. I slipped the passport into my pocket, then knelt next to my gun safe and slid the silver key into the lock and turned.

  The lock clicked, and I opened the lid.

  The case was empty.

  My gun was gone.

  8

  It was time to leave.

  I went out the back door into the alley and across the street to where I’d parked. There were more people around than when I got there, and I kept my head down as I walked and tried to not make eye contact. Once I got to the car, I put my bag in the trunk, climbed in behind the wheel, and started the engine.

  My hands were shaking, and I squeezed them into fists to make them stop. It didn’t work, so I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to relax. Usually, taking a minute to stop and breathe helped calm my mind, but not this time.

  Everything had changed.

  The man I saw at Mickey’s had not only seen my face, he’d been in my apartment. He knew about Kara, and now he had my gun. To make things worse, I couldn’t report it stolen without telling the cops about the blonde and the money, and that wasn’t an option. I’d waited too long and there would be too many questions.

  That meant it was time to go.

  I opened the glove compartment and shoved the manila envelope inside. Then I put the car in gear and pulled out onto the road. I’d only gone a few miles when I noticed a black SUV three cars back, matching my speed. I switched lanes and made a few extra turns, watching the SUV in my mirror the entire time.

  Every move I made, they matched, always three cars back.

  “Shit.”

  The highway was coming up, and I was about to turn onto the on-ramp and really see what the car could do when my phone rang. I picked it up and checked the ID: Charlie White.

  I answered. “Hey, Pop.”

  “How’s the car?”

  I glanced back at the SUV in my mirror and said, “Runs good, but the paint scratches too damn easily.”