by MB Mooney
“I still have people on it, checking airports, APB’s, that kind of thing. We’ll find them. They can’t have gotten far.”
The sky met them as they reached the top of the deck.
She scoffed. She didn’t share his optimism. “I don’t know,” she said as they reached the top level of the deck. “He’s a pretty amazing kid.”
“Obviously. But he’s still a little kid, though, right?”
The car rolled to a stop. They both got out of the car. Valerie peered ahead at a few policemen standing close to the edge of the deck. “A few hours ago, I would have agreed with you.”
As they walked towards the edge of the top of the garage, Lawrence pulled her close and whispered in her ear. Her breath caught. “Listen. We don’t have the equipment downstairs yet. Get him talking, rambling, whatever, if you can. We need him to tell us who helped his son. This isn’t over yet.” He smelled clean, and his cologne filled her nostrils. “See what he knows. Stall until we can get ready down on the street.”
The sky had brightened, and the first dim signs of dawn began to cut into the effect of the flashing, rotating lights from the street below. Valerie’s feet scraped along the concrete as she passed the three officers in blue and neared the railing at the edge. On the outside of the railing, a lone figure stood on the narrow ledge, hanging on for balance. He was the focus of the attention from below. Valerie stood behind him.
She said his name. “Bill.”
He didn’t turn or acknowledge her in any way. The early morning silence continued to be broken by the movement and activity below.
“It’s been a long freakin’ week, Bill,” she said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get slopping drunk and take a few days to sleep it off. So I’m about to leave your ass if you don’t tell me why you wanted me here.”
She could smell the liquor wafting from his sweat, his clothes.
“No, wait,” he mumbled. He didn’t look at her. “I need you to tell me. They won’t tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“They won’t tell me about Brian. They won’t tell me anything.”
“You’re a suspected accomplice in a series of brutal murders. You got bailed out of jail by some mysterious lawyer … I’d like to know who that was, by the way … and now you’re threatening to commit suicide. Why would they tell a potential jumper shit?”
“Because I’m his father, dammit. He’s my son. I deserve to know what happened to him.”
“My God. You helped your son murder people and put countless more in danger. Now your goal is what, to sit up here and threaten to mess up an Atlanta street if they don’t tell you what you want to know?” She shook her head. “Tell me who that lawyer was that bailed you out in the middle of the night.”
“Don’t have the first clue.”
“The Franklins?”
Bill snorted. “Not their style. They would’ve sent someone in to kill me or something, not waste the money on bail.”
Valerie’s brow creased. “Then who? You’re holding something back.”
“Told you. I don’t have any idea.”
“Maybe we don’t know anything about Brian, either.”
“They know.” His voice was soft. “And you know. You know.”
He turned slightly, and his stare frightened her. He looked back at the street beneath him.
“It’s all right, Mann. You’re right. Not protocol to tell a jumper something that might push him over the edge, that my son is dead. I’m not new at this.”
“I know that.”
“Good.”
She paused, swallowing down her fear. “So why not jump? You already think he’s dead.”
She heard him gulp. “Because I want to hear how. I want to know how it happened.”
“But why me? It could be anyone here for you to torture. You hate me that much?”
“I don’t hate you,” he said. “I want to hear you say it. I want to hear your judgmental voice tell me how he died. I want to see the pleasure on your face while you tell me the details and then tell me I’m the sick one, that I’m the criminal.”
“You’re a bastard. You’ve been a bastard ever since we first met. Why do you think I would give you the satisfaction?”
“Why did you come to see me in jail last night?” He paused and a bitter chuckle escaped his throat. “Because you wanted to be the one to give me news about Brian and the Franklins. You wanted to see the look on my face. Most of all, you wanted to save me.”
“Save you? Why the hell would I want to save you?”
He was quiet for a long minute. Something inside of Valerie told her to run, screamed at her. But she didn’t run. “Because you couldn’t save your father.”
Her breath drew in sharply. She shook her head to keep it from spinning, dangerous from so high up. “You son of a bitch. What do you know about my father?”
“He worked for the CIA, some dark stuff I couldn’t find crap about, but they found him dead in a gutter in Philadelphia next to a dead whore.” She closed her eyes and wished him to stop talking. He continued. “He was gunned down like a common thug. And I never could dig up what happened to your mother.”
“She … left when I was young.”
“And you were alone. You think I’ve been on the force for this long without knowing how to pull some strings? I knew everything I could about you before you were assigned as my partner. You were the one cop that wouldn’t let this go until you found him, my Brian. So I asked for you.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“I was in the perfect position to misdirect the most ambitious and gung-ho cop we had. I could give Brian time to do what he needed to do. But I also knew that when this was over, you wouldn’t stop with Brian. You’d keep going, try to take down the whole Franklin organization.” He glanced at her again, adjusting his hold on the railing. “You’re my ace in the hole, Mann. You’ll take down the whole organization, and I won’t even have to ask.”
Valerie took a step towards him. “You think you know me, but you’re wrong. I didn’t want to save my father. I hated him.”
“So why are you out to save the world, Mann? You tell me.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything. What if I don’t spend my life saving the world? What if I just watch you die and forget the whole thing?”
Bill scoffed, thin strands of white hair blowing in the breeze. “Not how you’re built.”
“Screw you. I’m not telling you shit.”
“Then why are you still standing here?”
“I …”
“Just tell me. And do it quickly.”
She looked at Bill Young, his back to her, his head down, and she was one heartbeat away from turning and leaving him there alone, one second away from telling Agent Lawrence that if he wanted Bill Young off that ledge to do it himself.
He used me. The whole time. He’s using me now. Just like my father did all those years ago.
“Brian died last night. He was shot and killed by a seventeen year old kid. He pulled a dead cop’s gun out of a wrecked ambulance and put five slugs into your son. Brian was trying to kill that kid and his friends. We’ve got kids in a hospital and three more dead bodies. But he’s dead, and that kid killed him.”
There. She said it.
“The kids,” he said. “They’re okay?”
“They’ll live, I think, but pretty screwed up.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “Good.”
“Now come down from there, you son of a bitch. If you make me watch you kill yourself, I swear I’ll forget all of this. I’ll ask for a transfer to another city, hell, another state. I’ll never give another flying crap about the Franklins or anything. Live and we’ll talk. But if you die here, die knowing I’ll leave it all.”
“No,” Bill said. “You won’t.”
The sun was almost visible on the horizon. Bill grinned at her sadly.
He let go, bending slightly at the knees, and pushed off.
&nbs
p; Among the shouts and cries from behind her and below, Valerie watched Bill Young fall to his death.
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