by Martha Carr
“Uh-huh.” She laughed again and swatted absently at the insects flying around them now, although mostly around the swamp-infested hounds. “Fine. I’ll make something up, then.”
“Now, I didn’t say you have to do that—”
“Well, my other story isn’t anywhere near as cool.” The girl scuffed the sole of her shoe against the dirt road and muttered. “It’s more depressing.”
Johnny stared at her but her gaze remained fixed on the ground. His throat constricted. “All right. Come on, now. You—”
Amanda looked quickly at him with wide eyes.
Damn, she’s good. “You tell people whatever you want.”
“Truly?”
“It’s your life, kid, and it ain’t my place to tell you how to live it. I wouldn’t be doin’ my job if I did.”
She grinned, threw herself at him, and wrapped her arm around his stiff shoulders. “Thanks, Johnny.”
He tilted his head away from her and endured the hug but he couldn’t help raising a hand to pat her gently on the back. “But don’t say nothin’ ʼbout my tech, ya hear? That Glasket lady already made a whole big deal outta me bein’ a benefactor. If you tell anyone what I got inside my house, those kids will come lookin’ for trouble where I ain’t tryin’ to have it.”
“No, totally.” Amanda stepped away from him and shook her head. “I won’t tell anyone where you live.”
Johnny pointed at her. “Or about the tech.”
“Or the tech. Promise.” She crossed her heart with a finger and grinned. “But it’s gonna be so cool to show people what I know.” After glancing over her shoulder again at the other magical kids who remained engrossed in their various activities on the lawn, she leaned toward the dwarf and muttered, “I heard one kid say the swamp around the academy is fed by the sewers. Like from Miami.”
He snorted. “That’s a perfect example of why kids need to stay in school. You’d better set him right.”
“Come on.” Grinning, she spread her arms. “I know more about the Everglades than anyone here. Except for you, obviously. And Darlene.”
“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Luther chuffed and sat back on his haunches. “Way to forget about the hounds you can hear.”
Rex swung his head away from the girl and stared at the lawn. “We didn’t even show you half of what we know.”
His brother looked quickly at him. “We didn’t?”
Laughing, she dropped to one knee and pulled Rex’s head toward her to give it a thorough scratch. “You’re included in that, boys. What will I do without you?”
Johnny folded his arms and watched her. Make friends, have a life, and be normal. Relatively speakin’.
Luther stood and butted into his brother’s head-scratching session while his tail wagged in wild circles. “Hey, me too. Scratch me too. Oh, yeah… Man. We’re gonna miss you, pup.”
She laughed when the smaller hound’s rear leg lifted and pumped at the air in enjoyment. “I’ll miss you too. But it’s not like I’m across the country.” The girl stood and grinned at Johnny. “You guys can visit whenever you want. You do own the place.”
The dwarf wrinkled his nose and scratched his red-haired cheek again. “Naw. It’s best we don’t. You have all kinds of other things to focus on without a dwarf and his hounds stickin’ their noses where they don’t belong.”
“It wouldn’t bother me at all.”
But I’d have a hell of a hard time leavin’ her again. “We’ll see.” They stared at each other for a long moment before he spoke again. “Look, kid, I know when I brought this whole idea up, you were right on board from the get-go. And I never asked because it seemed like it made sense. So, uh…I mean, if you don’t wanna be here—”
“I do, Johnny. I truly do.” Amanda swiped her long dark hair out of her eyes again and exhaled a quick, contented sigh. “I’m sure.”
“Well, okay…”
“I’m at an academy learning to be a bounty hunter. This is the coolest thing I’ve ever done.”
“It might not always be cool, kid. You know that, right?”
The girl’s smile faded but she didn’t look away from him. “I’m counting on it. After what happened to my family… Well, that’s why I wanna be here. If I can track and apprehend scumbags like those who killed my parents and Claire and stop them before they do the same to anyone else, that’s worth it. Even if things aren’t always cool, you know?”
“Yeah.” Johnny swallowed and nodded. “I know exactly what you mean, kid.”
“I thought you would.” Her small smile returned. “And when I graduate, maybe I’ll even be better than you.”
He snorted. “It’s a lofty goal, kid.”
“Not impossible.”
“Well, we’ll see. Do you have the service box?”
Amanda grinned. “Stashed in my dresser under all the new clothes you bought me. And thanks for those, by the way.”
“You keep that hidden, understand? It’s for emergencies only.”
“Yep.”
“All right. Be good.”
“I aim to be the best, Johnny.”
Chuckling, he turned away and wagged a finger at her. “That’s the headspace. Come on, boys. It’s time to get outta here before our window closes.”
“See ya, pup.” Rex barked as Amanda raced away again across the lawn toward the other kids her age.
“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do,” Luther called after her. “Not a whole lotta things, but they exist.”
The girl tossed her hand up in a brief wave before she slowed in front of the crowd of students and joined the ranks of her new classmates.
“Let her go, boys.” Johnny hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his black jeans and strode across the dirt road toward Sheila. “We have shit to do.”
The hounds trotted after him. “Hunting, Johnny?”
“Hey, or fishing. Lots of fish right now.”
“Lots of warm water and ʼgators.”
“Oooh, yeah. Or we could stop at Darlene’s for a—wait.” Luther turned toward the field again and sniffed. “Darlene’s here.”
The dwarf opened the trunk of his red Jeep and nodded for the hounds to hop inside. Their claws scrabbled across the smooth, uncarpeted floor before he shut the door and moved to the driver’s seat.
“So what’s the plan, Johnny, huh?”
“Yeah, you always have a plan. Spill it.”
Sheila’s engine roared to life and he shifted into drive. “Whatever we want.”
Both hounds lurched as their master accelerated sharply.
“Aw, man. That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Yeah, when he says it like that, we means Johnny.”
Chapter Two
When the bounty hunter stepped through the front door of his tidy cabin, he stopped in the hallway and glanced around. Damn. It already feels empty.
Rex and Luther trotted past him through the house and their claws clicked on the wood floors. “How about a snack, Johnny?”
“Yeah, you made us hang around while that weird lady talked for hours and we didn’t even get to stay for the grub.”
The hounds turned and stared at him. “Johnny?”
He sniffed and shoved the door closed behind him. “You ate before we left.”
“I already said we were out there for hours.” Luther backed away and stared after his master, who walked past them down the hallway and turned into the workshop. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothin’.” He took one of the older rifles from the shelf and retrieved his cleaning box. The lid pinged against the table when he threw it back and pulled out the bottle of solvent.
“Uh-oh.” Rex lowered his head with a low whine and entered the workshop slowly. “You’re angry-cleaning.”
“No, no, no. It’s a different smell when he’s pissed.” Luther pressed his snout against Johnny’s pant leg and sniffed up and down before he stepped away and sat. “Johnny?”
“What’s he doing?” Rex h
ad moved under the worktable and now glanced from his brother to his master’s legs.
“He’s…uh, staring.”
The dwarf placed the rifle on the table with a loud thunk and looked at Luther. “No, that’s you. If you can’t stop, get on outside, huh?”
“No way, Johnny.” The hound’s tail thumped the floor. “Something’s wrong with you.”
Rex stretched his neck out as far as he could from beneath the table and sniffed his master’s other leg. “Is that… No.”
“I think it is.”
They looked at each other, then Rex left his place under the table and sat at his brother’s side. He cocked his head and whined. “Are you…sad, Johnny?”
He sniffed. “No.”
“Then why do you smell like soggy bread?”
“Oh, shit. He misses the pup.” Luther’s tail thumped twice. “Johnny.”
“Hey, we miss her too. No reason to be sad.”
“I ain’t—” With a low growl of frustration, Johnny clutched the edge of the worktable with both hands and hung his head. “I’m…contemplatin’.”
“Huh?”
Rex lowered his head to scratch behind his ear with a rear paw. “He can’t shit.”
“Aw, hell, Johnny. That’s easy.” Luther stood and backed away and his tail returned to its usual wild wagging. “There’s this huge patch of grass out back that’s real good for something like that. Come on. I’ll show you.”
“Contemplatin’.” Johnny snorted. “It means I’m thinkin’.”
“Oh. Why is that making you sad?”
“He misses her already,” Rex replied. “We miss her too, Johnny. Don’t let it get you down, though.”
“Yeah, that’s a waste of time.” Luther trotted into the hall and his words trailed after him. “Think of all the things you can do now that it’s only us again. Hunt whenever you want. Bring over whatever ladies you want.”
“Yeah, it’s been a while for you, Johnny.”
The dwarf stepped back, scowled at Rex, and pointed into the hall. “Git.”
“I’m only sayin’—”
“You can eat whatever you want that’s in the fridge,” Luther added from the living room. “And she won’t get mad ’cause she wanted it. And you won’t get mad ʼcause she ate it. Hey, Johnny. You’re not gonna try to eat all the food in there by yourself, are you?”
Rex snuck around his master to head into the kitchen, not the hall. “Yeah, throwing out all that food’s a big waste. If you don’t want it to go bad, we could help—”
Luther barked and scrambled through the mudroom, taking the back way into the kitchen. “If that’s your plan, Johnny, we’re your hounds.”
“For life.”
“Nothin’s goin’ to waste, and y’all quit talkin’ about it.” Johnny returned to his worktable and rested his hands on the surface. “Better yet, quit talkin’ altogether. I need a minute.”
Both hounds backed slowly away from the kitchen’s entrance into the workshop. “I think that means we should go outside,” Rex muttered.
“If it doesn’t, he’ll stop us.”
“Oh, Johnny… We’re going outside…”
Five seconds of silence passed before they turned and raced to the dog door in the back. “Go, go, go! Before he changes his mind.”
It clapped open and shut, followed by the thump of paws down the back porch stairs. “Hey, Luther. Where was that patch of grass you were talking about?”
“Oh, yeah. Come on.”
Johnny rubbed his mouth and exhaled a heavy sigh. On the other side of the worktable was the file Agent Nelson had brought him after they’d solved the Logree case. It took him a week longer than he promised, but at least it’s here.
He hadn’t touched the fifteen-year-old case file on his daughter’s murder since his first attempt to look through it. Now, it seemed like the only thing he could focus on. No more cases. No more school to build. No kid to put up with.
The dwarf packed everything into the cleaning case again, locked it, and replaced the box and the rifle on the shelf. He walked slowly around the worktable and scowled at the file as if it were a cottonmouth coiled to strike. Naw, that’s a snake I know how to handle. I ain’t too clear about this.
When he reached the other side of the large surface, he sniffed and stared at the plain manila envelope that looked like it had been stored in the bottom of a box for fifteen years.
“Fuck it.” He snatched it up and thrust it under one arm as he headed to the kitchen. It took only a moment to retrieve the bottle of Johnny Walker Black and a rocks glass recently unloaded from the dishwasher. He poured himself four fingers, inclined his head in thought, and added another two in case.
After a long sip, his grimace faded and he felt a little more prepared. Before he could find a reason to talk himself out of it, he took the folder and the whisky with him into the living room and got to work.
He allowed himself another sip and placed his glass on the table, then opened the envelope. The papers slid out easily enough but a few on top were stuck together. Prying them apart carefully, he found smudges of dark purple and a dusting of crumbs between them. It looks like some fed likes his jelly doughnuts as much as the next asshole. I swear, if mice got into this shit before I did, Nelson will lose a finger.
Fortunately, all the reports, written depositions, and interview transcripts were still intact. Then, he found the photos.
The second he recognized the first one for what it was, Johnny dropped the entire pile onto the coffee table and almost spilled his whisky when he brought it hastily to his mouth. You knew these were in here, Johnny. It’s nothin’ you ain’t seen before.
Still, it took another long sip of whisky before he could focus on the stack of papers in front of him—all that remained as proof that Dawn’s murder had been left unsolved for fifteen years. He reminded himself that the stack was a hell of a lot bigger now than when he’d gone through it fifteen years before. The quiet anger at the knowledge that information had been withheld from him gave him the impetus to continue.
He slid the photos beneath the large envelope, drew the rest of the file onto his lap, and began to read.
The first few case reports covered all the things he already knew. Her body had been found in the doorway of a shop on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. She’d been shot in the head and the shop owner had been apprehended in his home later that night but was eventually released and never charged. No eyewitnesses came forward and no other evidence was found. Everyone had scattered to flee the scene of the crime before anyone could determine what had happened.
“No gunshot residue on the owner. He didn’t even own a weapon. Yeah, yeah. And nothin’ says shit about the red boar or how fuckin’ incompetent the feds are.”
The Red Boar had been Johnny’s discovery four days after the murder. He’d gone through the pictures on Dawn’s digital camera, red-eyed and halfway through the bottle. The device was filled with pictures of his daughter and her friends on their school trip to NYC—chaperoned, of course. But kids knew how to have fun however they could.
One photo had a red boar silhouette graffitied on a brick wall behind the youngsters. Four pictures after that, he’d seen the same boar lit up in red neon above a bar that hadn’t lasted longer than a year past her death. The next time he’d paid a visit to the department—in person—he’d caught Director Fitzgerald in the middle of studying a file on his desk. Quickly, the man had shut the file and shoved it into the top drawer of his desk before he addressed the grief-addled bounty hunter, but not before he caught a glimpse of the photo resting on top of the reports. He recalled it vividly—a little plastic baggy with the boar stamped across its surface in bright red ink, evidence from another case.
“Oh, only a college kid caught up in the wrong kinda fun on the wrong weekend,” Fitzgerald had explained nonchalantly when Johnny asked about it. “The war on drugs is never-ending, unfortunately.” That had been moments before the man refused for
the third and final time to let him work on Dawn’s murder.
But the bounty hunter had already made the connection to the baggie and the red boar in his daughter’s photos, and he went off on his own to get justice for his daughter.
He snorted and took another long drink of whisky. “I tore that bar to pieces trying to nail the guy,” he muttered. “Nothin’ but a fake-ass name and a slap on the wrist.”
And retirement. This asshole went underground for a long time before he grew the balls to start sellin’ his shit again in New York.
Johnny worked through page after page as he sifted painstakingly through the information he’d seen in the original reports, all of it completely useless.
When he turned the last report marking the case Unsolved, he stopped.
The next sheet was blank but for the huge letters stamped across the top. Deadroot: Classified.
“What the fuck is Deadroot?” He put his glass down again and flipped to the next document with both hands. He certainly hadn’t seen this before.
The first part of the report contained pictures of Ben Hamilton, his wife Kay, and their daughter Lucy—Dawn’s best friend. It made sense that the family was mentioned in her murder file as both parents had been chaperones on the school trip, but this was Deadroot. It was something else entirely.
Johnny scanned the details with a deepening scowl. Most of it focused on Ben and he drank more whisky to help him curb his impatience. At the bottom of the report was an affirmation of Hamilton’s involvement:
Subject 32 for Operation Deadroot will continue to be surveilled for the duration of an upcoming visit to New York City in October with his family. He is not to be engaged but depending on how deep his involvement extends into the hub of Deadroot’s central dealings, he may be flagged for further consideration as a CI.
“Motherfuckers.” The dwarf growled in disgust. “October. They knew the guy was dippin’ his fingers in illegal fuckin’ pies and didn’t say shit.”
What the hell would Dawn be doin’ walkin’ ʼround Manhattan alone with Lucy’s old man? Did he pull her into some dirtbag deal?