by L. T. Ryan
“OK. Tell Sean I’ll call in the morning.”
I turned and headed back to the house. The same dog barked when I passed his yard. I hoped that a moment of clarity would find me as easily as the dog. It didn’t. I walked up to the front door more confused than when I had left.
I glanced to the side. The bedroom window was lit up. Marcia had found it. I figured she had lain down, so I quietly opened the door.
I heard the sound of her voice. It was muffled. I couldn’t tell what she’d said, but it seemed as if she spoke with an American accent. I stood in the entryway for a moment. The call ended before I could hear anything else.
The bedroom door creaked open. Marcia stepped out. With nothing to change into, she had on the same clothes.
“I didn’t know you were back,” she said.
“Just got here,” I said.
She walked past me.
“I swear I heard an American accent coming out of your room.”
She looked back, smiled and nodded. “I was on the phone with my sister.”
“Your sister?”
“She’s worried about me.”
“And she speaks like she’s from the States?”
Marcia stopped and turned. “My father ran off to the U.S. when I was young. He remarried and had three more children. Anna, the oldest of the three, and I are close. That’s who I was speaking with. She is very American. Even more than you.”
I let it go at that. She got a glass of water from the kitchen, and went back to the room. I lay down on the couch. Despite my nap on the plane, I had no trouble falling asleep.
Chapter 39
Alessandro stretched out on the back seat of his car, asleep. His phone woke him. He opened his eyes. The moon hovered high overhead. It looked like a flashlight, a hundred yards away. If he traveled a few hundred yards to the west, he’d see it reflected off the calm gulf waters.
He let the phone ring four times before answering. He contemplated letting it go to voicemail. It wasn’t as if Vera wouldn’t call back until he answered. And she’d be pissed. And a pissed Vera was not ideal for Alessandro’s well-being, so he answered her call.
“The husband knows too much,” she said.
The statement caught him off guard. He’d been prepared to face another man. He expected she would call to relay pertinent information.
“About what?” he said. “He wasn’t there.”
“About something I don’t want him knowing. You’ll have to kill him. But, before you do, you’ll need to find out what his brother knows.”
“So you want me to start with his brother?”
“No, deal with the husband first. Prior to killing him, press him for information on his brother. If we can avoid killing that man, let’s do so. The mess is spreading and I need you to contain it before the leak is out. We’re on the verge of the wrong set of eyes falling upon Crystal River.”
Alessandro glanced up, through the rear window. Thin clouds raced by the moon, hiding portions of it, but never the entire orb. He tried to think of a question to ask Vera that might lead to more information. He disliked being in the middle of something this convoluted without all the facts.
“OK,” he said. “Anyone else?”
“Keep an eye on the sheriff. I don’t know how much she knows. I’ll send you the addresses, including the location of the sheriff’s department.”
Vera ended the call before he could say anything. After a minute, he climbed between the front seats and slid in behind the wheel. He had turned the key in the ignition when his phone buzzed. It was a message from Vera. She wanted him to return to the house first. He plugged the address into the Impala’s navigation unit and pulled onto Suncoast.
The drive took five minutes. He didn’t pass a single car on the way. He pulled into the familiar neighborhood. Judging by the darkened front windows along the street, everyone had already headed to bed. He glanced at the clock on the dash. It was just after eleven p.m.
He spotted the house, drove past it, parked two lots down.
Alessandro hopped the neighbor’s fence and darted across their backyard. He hit the next fence full speed and vaulted over it. He repeated the process once more, then raced to the back of Jessie’s house.
It was dark inside. The air handlers were silent. It didn’t look like anyone was home. He moved to the rear door. It was unlocked. He pushed it open and crept through the house with his sidearm drawn. He cleared the place, room by room, verifying they were all empty.
He called Vera to tell her. She sent him directions to Matt’s house with instructions to neutralize the men only if threatened. He ignored the warning.
No one would know either way.
He bypassed town and arrived at the entrance of a neglected neighborhood twenty minutes later. The place looked run down. The houses were old and in various stages of disrepair. He imagined that half of them were empty or contained squatters.
He cut his headlights off and cruised down the street with his foot off the gas. The dilapidated condition of the neighborhood didn’t bother him. The residents in a place like this weren’t the kind that would talk to cops. It didn’t matter if they witnessed something. They would never admit to it. Alessandro could appreciate that. He might even flip a hundred dollars to anyone he saw outside when he left.
Extra incentive.
He tapped his brake as he passed the house. The front window was lit up. He saw three heads turned toward a wide screen television. Two of the faces were out of view. The one he could see led him to believe the man was stoned. He presumed the others were, too. It was an assumption he’d have to ditch before entering the house. Best to assume they were capable of putting up a good fight.
He pulled to the curb, exited the vehicle, and cut across the lawn to the front door. Alessandro didn’t bother knocking. He reached for the handle and turned it. Not one of the men moved as he stepped into the foyer. He singled out the man most likely to give him trouble. That man would be the first to die. The other two were heavy, stoned, and looked like they’d move slowly. From his position, he could kill all three before one got a hand on him.
“Which of you gentlemen is Glenn?”
The man against the far wall looked at him with a blank expression and said, “I am.”
One of the other guys started to get up.
Alessandro aimed his pistol at the man. “No need to move. I’m only here to see Glenn.”
The guy said, “Well, that’s my brother.”
“If you want him to live, you best get back in your seat.”
The guy held out his hands and lowered himself onto the couch. The three of them breathed heavily and erratically. Their panic levels were high. If they all tried to make a move, it would be uncoordinated. It would play into Alessandro’s hand.
The men didn’t move. This was going to be too easy. He fought to keep a smile at bay.
Then he shot Glenn in the head.
The suppressor affixed to the end of his pistol drowned out most of the noise. It sounded like a pellet hitting a tin can. He spun, fired another shot before either of the two men reacted. It hit the guy to Alessandro’s right in the head. He slumped over the arm of the couch.
The third man moved quickly. It surprised Alessandro. He fired before he aimed. The shot missed. The big guy lunged for him. Alessandro threaded one arm through the guy’s arm as he sprawled backward. The man flung his free arm. It connected with Alessandro’s hand, dislodged the pistol. He heard it hit the floor and skate across the room. He was unable to get a visual on its position.
The big guy threw another punch. It connected on Alessandro’s side. One of his ribs cracked. He fought through the pain, wincing, and delivered an uppercut to the man’s down turned face. The guy screamed, then gurgled. Without seeing the damage, Alessandro assumed he’d broken the man’s nose.
So he hit him there again. And again.
The big guy dropped to his knees. Alessandro kicked him in the solar plexus. The man wa
vered, but didn’t fall. Alessandro kicked him twice more. Once in the gut. Once in the throat. Finally, the man fell to the side.
Alessandro crossed the room, picked up his pistol and walked back toward the man. The big guy struggled to breathe. His face was dark red. Alessandro stepped forward. The man tried to move his arms, couldn’t.
Alessandro spat on him, then pulled the trigger four times.
So much for information gathering.
Chapter 40
I opened my eyes, tilted my head back and glanced at the back door. No light penetrated the sheer curtain that covered the windows. I considered going back to sleep. I knew that would be a losing cause. I lifted my cell phone, checked the time.
Five a.m.
I lay there for a moment, stared at the ceiling, listened. The house was still, quiet. Marcia slept. Or had left. I could deal with either.
The events of the previous day flooded my mind. I had plenty to catch up on, so I kicked my legs over the edge of the sofa. They found the floor. My knees and ankles popped as I rose. I lifted my arms over my head. My shoulders and elbows had the same reaction as the lower half of my body. A cool draft ran through the room. It felt good against my bare arms, legs and chest.
I went into the kitchen. The tile floor felt twenty degrees cooler than the air surrounding me. I grabbed a protein drink out of the fridge. I lifted the lid to the garbage can to throw away the cap. The sheet of paper with my name and the code and the letters KOS sat atop a used paper plate and two empty bottles of water. I pulled the document out and carried it into the other room. My pants were folded on the floor. I grabbed them and stuffed the paper into one of the pockets.
I tried to assume that the document had been placed in the trash by accident. But a feeling gnawed at me. It left me doubting that conclusion. I’d figure out a way to casually bring it up to Marcia. Her reaction would tell me whether she did it on purpose.
The only shower in the house was located in the bedroom. I decided against disturbing Marcia. She could sleep for another hour or so. I went back into the kitchen. A twenty-year-old coffee maker sat on the counter top. It worked. The coffee it brewed was strong in strength, taste, and effect. That was all that mattered. If Marcia was anything like me, the smell of it would be enough to wake her up within the next ten minutes.
The coffee dripped through a filter made from recycled paper. Drop by drop the pot filled, and I felt sleepier. I let it finish brewing before pouring a cup, though. When it was finally ready, I bypassed the cream and sugar, and took my tall mug of black coffee out back.
Through the trees, I watched the sky turn from blue to red to orange and back to a new shade of blue. It looked new, crisp, fresh. The sun climbed higher over the next few minutes. Bright light found its way through clustered leaves. Birds piped up. The air warmed. The breeze remained cool.
I had my cell phone in my lap. I glanced down at it as it buzzed against my thigh. The call came from Florida. I dragged my finger across the screen and answered it.
“Glenn, Matt and Jed were murdered.” April sounded winded. It was past midnight there. Presumably, she hadn’t slept much. And the sleep she had managed might have been beer-induced.
“Are you at the scene?” I said.
“I’m leaving my house now.”
I pictured her brushing the tabby cat to the side and slipping through the front door. I doubted she put on her uniform. Maybe she had on blue jeans and a tank top, her sheriff’s shirt draped over her shoulder. There wasn’t time to worry about being in the proper attire when on the way to a triple-homicide.
“What do you know?” I said.
“Nothing, yet. A neighbor called in to nine-one-one after she saw a man fleeing the scene. She was on her porch, across the street. Said she saw the guy enter the house. She thinks she saw him in the living room. They had their blinds open, like last time.”
“OK.”
“The guy executed them. She heard what she described as bolts dropped into a coffee tin. That’s all I got right now. I’ll find out more after I secure the scene.”
A triple homicide was not something an amateur would likely pull off. A pro did this. And he might still be close.
“Don’t go over there alone,” I said. “Got it?”
The phone thumped and clanked. A pause followed. “Sorry,” she said. “Dropped it putting on my shirt.”
The tattoo flashed in my mind. I brushed it aside. “April, make sure you have at least one, preferably two deputies with you.”
“I will.” She paused a beat. “What do you make of this?”
I made plenty of it. Three men were executed after one of them revealed that he found a cache of government secrets. Even though he hadn’t a clue what he looked at, I was sure that got him killed. April and I weren’t the only ones he told. Now someone was cleaning up a mess. They started with Jessie. Then April’s deputy Craig got in the way and paid for it. I was in the middle of it all. Without me there, who else would they go after?
April?
Sean and his family?
I said, “It’s too soon for me to speculate, April. Call me when you get to the house. Make sure you message me pictures of the crime scene.”
We hung up. I downed my coffee and went back inside. I had a change of clothes in the bedroom. The door remained closed. I still had on the pants and undershirt I borrowed from Sean the day before.
For five minutes I paced the room. My footsteps grew louder with each pass. The square trek did little to clear my mind. I had no great insights. Things grew more muddled.
Marcia still didn’t wake.
I stepped out back, called Sasha. I filled her in on the new developments. She told me she’d dedicate as many resources as she could, when she could.
I went back inside. Marcia stood in the middle of the living room. She watched me enter.
“Is everything OK, Jack?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Something bad.”
“Care to elaborate?”
I shook my head, went in the kitchen.
She followed me. “Jack—”
“Why did you throw away that paper?”
“What paper?”
“The one I brought back from Florida.”
“I didn’t throw it away, Jack.”
“I found it in the trash this morning.”
She looked at the garbage can, then back at me. Her eyes were wide. She held her hands out. “I…I must have done it by accident when I tossed my plate and the empty water bottles away. Why would I get rid of that? We might need it to figure out what is going on.”
Her eyes were unwavering. Her lips didn’t tremble. She stuttered once, but that was it.
I said, “You told me on the phone that you knew who was targeting me.”
She took a step back, folded her arms over her chest. She glanced toward the window over the sink. A tall hedge blocked most of the view.
I said, “If that were true, you would have said something by now. Right?”
She had no reply.
“Why’d you tell me that when you clearly don’t know?”
“All I know is that something is going on, Jack. I had to get you back here. I knew if I told you that, you’d reach the conclusion that while you were there, others weren’t safe, and you’d come back.” She leaned toward me. Pointed at herself. “It was a gamble, but I was right.”
I reached into my pocket and grabbed the paper. I realized at that moment I’d left my pistol in the other room. It wasn’t a good feeling.
“Was this all fabricated, Marcia? The whole money laundering angle you brought up last night?”
She shook her head, reached for the paper. I pulled it back. She said, “That’s the truth, Jack. I don’t know who the target is, and I’m not even sure if that matters now. This could be months old. It’s just something that was in her possession that proves she was still being used. The thing that concerns me is that piece of paper appear
s to be the only thing left.”
I debated whether I should tell her the reason it had survived. Glenn had kept it in a drawer. Jessie didn’t know about it, neither did her killer. Whichever of them destroyed the remaining documents had no idea the one in my possession existed.
In the end, I said nothing to Marcia about it.
“Jack, please tell me what’s going on.”
“Who says something is going on?”
“I can see it in your face, your actions, your reactions. You are overly stressed. I know enough about you to realize that doesn’t occur very often.”
In truth, it happened more than it should. Sometimes I wondered how I was still alive.
She said, “Please, Jack. Level with me.”
“Jessie’s husband Glenn, his brother Matt, and their friend Jed were murdered last night.”
Chapter 41
Alessandro messaged a confirmation to Vera. The hit had been successful. He fled the neighborhood, and best he could tell, no one had noticed he’d been there. At the same time, he assumed someone had seen him. Every job, that was how he operated. It kept him from doing something stupid afterward. That was how men in his position got caught, and subsequently killed. They got drunk, bragged to a bunch of guys at a bar. Or maybe he took home a stripper and let her in on his dirty secret. Or perhaps, still intoxicated from the kill, he killed again.
He had never done that.
But this time he had to.
Now he stood at the end of a quiet street, positioned behind the Impala. The trunk lid was open. A single light bulb provided enough light for him to see the contents of the trunk clearly. He removed the spare tire and pulled out the bag containing the jack. Vera had told him to look in it. So he did. He lifted an eyebrow at the contents of it. He closed the bag and brought it with him, placing it cautiously on the passenger seat. He considered strapping the seat belt over it. That’d be overkill, he told himself.
He received a text from her at that moment. It contained a one line address, number and street. Nothing else. He plugged it into the Impala’s navigation system. A computerized voice spat directions back at him.