The Garbage Man

by Candace Irving

  "Tom, you have to let him go."

  Her use of Burke's real name earned her a genuine smile, but then he shrugged. "Why? You do know the reason he's here. You must. You made it here in time for the righteous denouement. That means you've pieced together the rest of the case—and your memories. He killed Tanner and he killed Max. He facilitated a shitload of other murders too, and looked the other way on even more. Good ol' Joe. He might not have committed them all personally, but he's the reason those vets are dead, along with the rest of those men in that ambush of yours."

  "I know. But this isn't the answer."

  "Sure it is. I don't know about you, but I'm an Old Testament man. An eye for an eye. Or in this case, a pancreas and a set of kidneys for— Well, you've finally got all your bullets located, polished up and tucked back in your mental magazine; you get the idea."

  "I do." Just as she'd also finally realized why Max had been so determined to get her outside the wire before he laid everything out for her. She'd assumed Max had been worried about another doctor or the coroner overhearing their conversation.

  He had been.

  But Max had also been worried about Joe.

  "Then I take it that you're good to go regarding tonight's mission?"

  "No."

  The rage Burke had been keeping at bay flashed through his eyes, darkening them, even the one with the constricted pupil. "No?"

  "Don't you see? Tom, it doesn't matter what you or I want. What matters is what Tanner and Max would've wanted."

  Burke stepped so close to Joe, he shoved the agent's torso forward a good forty-five degrees. Unfortunately, that 9mm was still fused to her former partner's scalp. "How the fuck would you know what Tanner would want?"

  Kate held her ground and unloaded the only ammo she had left: the truth. "I know because I just spent half the night reading his record. Staff Sergeant Holmes was an outstanding soldier. Sharp, motivated, someone who got the job done, no matter the odds against him. But he was also compassionate, extremely so. I read his letters of commendation, including the one that detailed how your friend motivated his entire company—when he was just a private, mind you—to get tissue-typed on the slimmest of chances that one of those men would be able to donate bone marrow to another private's toddler. Would a man like that want a fellow soldier—no matter how screwed up that soldier is—to die?" She flung her hand toward the dangling noose. "And like that?"

  Kate rode the doubt she saw creeping into Burke's face and edged closer. "Tom, there are other ways to gain justice. Better ways. I know you know Grant had regrets. He had to have shared them with you while you prepared to do what you did. And I know he forgave you—because he couldn't forgive himself. But he did something right. Grant has been amassing evidence against Madrigal Medical and VitaCell Tissues. He'd planned on blowing the whistle. I have that evidence in my possession, and it's ironclad. There's no need to kill Agent Cordoba. He's going to jail. And when the truth comes out, there will be justice for Tanner and Max and the rest of those men who died in that ambush—and for the soldiers and vets who died before and since."

  For a moment, perhaps two, she thought she'd gotten through to him. That she'd reached the man Thomas Burke used to be before that IED had stolen his legs and his ability to reason clearly.

  Then it was gone, and he was shaking his head.

  "Sorry, Kate. I tried it your way in Afghanistan. You know better than anyone how well that worked out. It took three years to get things set up here. Had to start with learning to walk again. And, yeah, things got a bit graphic this week. But it had to be. I couldn't afford for everything to get swept under the rug. These people, they had enough power to do it once. They'd find a way to do it again. Hell, they're so fucked up, they were issuing certificates for those organs and tissues they stole from vets and pricing them accordingly, like they were jewelers rating a bunch of goddamned gemstones for auction. Puts a whole new shade on 'Thank you for your service', don't you agree?"

  She did.

  But before she could do so out loud, Burke shrugged. "Don't worry. There's a package on its way to you from me too. You'll see what I mean when you open it. But know this now: I don't regret what I've done, not even to Parish. Yeah, he had his come-to-Jesus moment. But it was too little, too late. Irony is, I'd planned on framing him and slipping away when it was done. If you haven't found the tire on the Land Rover in his dad's barn—the one that matches the tread impressions I left out by your cabin and where I put Dunne's body—you will. I thought about leaving a third impression, but Max swore you were the best. So I kept the faith that you'd find 'em—especially after you came across me in the midst of planting the one at your cabin."

  "I found them."

  That earned her a weirdly proud smile. "See? Max was right. By the way, I wouldn't have hit you. If you hadn't jumped out of the way, I'd have swerved."

  Given all that had happened, she actually believed him.

  She stopped at the corner of the gurney and tucked her fingers beneath the edge. "Why'd you change your mind about framing Grant?"

  Another shrug—but that 9mm didn't budge. "No need." Burke clipped his chin down toward Joe. "I had plans to go after this bastard next. Arrange his 'accidental' death, along with a few, final others. But the good Lord must be on my side, because Agent Cordoba did me the courtesy of showing up here in Braxton. And there was that damned doc. I watched you two together, especially that last time in your drive. Deep down, you knew Parish was bad news. Hell, even your dog knew it. What with your memory not cooperating, I figured I'd take care of things for you. Drop two birds with one shot. Get Parish out of your life for good, even as I used his parts to try and jolt that stubborn brain of yours one last time. And it worked."

  It had.

  And she'd found her moment. Burke was just distracted enough for her to make her move. Kate tightened her grip on the gurney, but before she could shove it forward, she realized Ruger had disobeyed her order to stay.

  Worse, the Shepherd had used his refrigerator-opening skills on the clinic's back door.

  She could hear the light snick, snick of Ruger's claws as he tiptoed up the hall.

  Unfortunately, so could Burke. Grabbing Joe by the neck, Burke dragged the agent along the tiles as he swerved past her left side to slam the door in Ruger's face.

  The Shepherd snarled and bellowed with rage as he threw his body against the door, but it didn't budge.

  And then—silence.

  She thought she caught another string of snicks, followed by the thump and swish of Ruger pushing through the clinic's door, but she was too busy concentrating on Burke to worry about the Shepherd's destination. Burke had swung Joe around by his neck a second time, forcing her former friend to meet her gaze as the vet half-stumbled, half-lurched the two of them back to that dangling noose.

  Burke's balance might be compromised, but his determination held firm as he whirled about to face her. "We're done chatting now, Kate. I hate to point out the obvious, but you're either with me in this, or you're not. And you'd better make your decision quick, because that mutt of yours is getting testy. I'd hate to have to take care of him too."

  She took the threat to Ruger as seriously as she took the proximity of that Glock's muzzle to Joe's head. While she had a decent enough understanding of Ruger to know why he'd disobeyed her and opened the door to come inside, she had no idea why he'd given up so easily and left. It wasn't like him.

  Had Lou arrived?

  Unfortunately, no. Kate bit back her shock as she spotted the now-muted Shepherd. Ruger was outside, at the clinic's window, behind both men. She could make out the dog's golden irises between the slats of the vinyl mini blinds, darting up and down, left and right, as if he was actually casing the room.

  "Well?"

  Stall—at least until she'd figured out what Ruger was doing—and how to use it. If what the Shepherd saw pissed him off enough, he just might throw himself against that window as he had in her Durango during that im
promptu traffic stop the year before. And that might be enough to startle Burke.

  Ruger accomplished the task for her, though not the way she'd thought. The sound of his snout bumping into the window was enough to cause Burke to swing his head around. Kate capitalized on the distraction and shoved the gurney forward. It clipped Burke's left hip, causing the vet to stumble and spin into the right wall of the room before he hit the floor.

  But as Burke came up, so did Joe.

  Her former partner must've grabbed her knife when Burke had dragged him back to that rope.

  He'd severed his zip cuffs.

  "No!"

  But Joe had already retrieved her rifle.

  Glass exploded into the room, along with those broken blinds—and Ruger. A split second later, Kate felt more than heard the Winchester's sharp report as she lunged forward. She jerked to a stop as she realized Ruger had beaten her to Joe. Ruger tore his snarling jaws from the agent's shredded and bleeding elbow to re-clamp them around Joe's throat as he knocked the agent to the floor atop those broken blinds.

  Kate grabbed her Glock from the pile of glass as she kicked the rifle and remaining weapons across the room, including Burke's own 9mm. Leaning down, her upper right arm began to burn as she snapped her steel cuffs around Joe's wrists. She left the gauze gag in place as she checked Ruger over.

  His hide was nicked and oozing blood in a few spots but, otherwise, he was fine. And royally pissed at Joe—who he still held pinned to the floor with his snarling jaws.

  "Ruger, guard!"

  She spun around to find Burke braced against the wall behind the gurney. Before she could roll it out of the way to cuff Burke with the spare zips in her pocket, he began to slide, leaving a telling swath of glistening scarlet down the wall as his body slipped lower and lower.

  "Oh, Jesus." Kate grabbed a stack of the trauma pads from the counter and shoved the gurney aside. She caught Burke's arm as he settled heavily on the floor. "You've been hit!"

  He nodded. "Appears so." His left hand came up to finger the seeping hole in the right sleeve of her Braxton PD jacket. It explained why her upper arm was aching like hell. "You, too. Looks like we got another two-for-one special going on this weekend."

  "Shut up." Because that pinpointed pupil wasn't the vet's only problem now. His skin was turning deathly pale. The hell with her arm, Burke was losing blood and a lot more of it than she was based on the amount of scarlet coating the wall behind his back. Kate yanked the hem of his sweatshirt up so she could assess the situation.

  It wasn't good.

  The bullet that had passed through the flesh of her throbbing arm had gone on to strike Burke in the middle of his chest. A dark-pink froth was foaming up from the resulting hole. Worse, his ribs were expanding less and less with each breath.

  "Staff Sergeant, you've got a sucking chest wound."

  The froth bubbled and hissed as he managed a soft laugh. "Is that all?"

  By itself, it was bad enough—but, no. The trauma pads she'd tucked against his back were already soaked. Something else had been nicked too. Something even more serious than a lung. If not his heart, one of those "damned vital tubes" as Max had termed them, running in or out of it.

  Kate holstered her Glock and grabbed her phone. Before she could dial 911, Burke's hand closed over hers.

  She tried to work her fingers free, but his wouldn't budge. "Tom, listen to me. We might be in a clinic, but you need someone who knows what the hell to do with all this gear that's lying around—and soon."

  He shook his head. "Just let me go. Please. It's gonna happen anyway. I can feel it." He glanced at Joe, still pinned to the floor by a vigilant Ruger. "Consider it a trade. Though why, I'm not sure. That bastard was aiming for you, not me."

  "I know." So had Ruger. That was why he'd crashed though that window when he had.

  She also knew that Max had noted Joe's name in the Tanner Holmes desertion investigation all those years ago when he'd been looking into the staff sergeant's death for Burke. Max would've known then that Joe was either incompetent—or involved. And he, too, had known Joe well enough to know it wasn't the former.

  But she didn't want to talk about Joe right now; she didn't even want to think about him. He wasn't worth it.

  But Burke was.

  She tried to tug her fingers from Burke's once more. And, once more, Burke tightened his.

  "Please...let me try."

  "It's too late. I'm already cold. Just sit here with me, okay?"

  She opened her mouth to argue—shout, if need be. Then she closed it. He was right. She could feel the ice spreading though his fingers. See the light dimming in those uneven eyes.

  His hand left hers, shaking slightly as it came up to cup her cheek and wipe away the tears she hadn't even realized were sliding down. "Hey, none of that. You were right. This end is more fitting. I'd planned on stringing him up and gutting him, the way they did Tanner. But you can use him. He's still got his wife to worry about. I wouldn't have killed her. Not even after I finished with him. It would've been like murdering a piece of Tanner, you know?"

  "Yeah, I know."

  Burke nodded. "Use her against him. Make Cordoba testify against the rest of those bastards. Just promise me two things, okay? Clear Tanner's record. Make sure the whole fucking world knows he wasn't a deserter."

  "I will. I swear it."

  He gave her another nod, but this one was slow and uneven. Frighteningly so.

  Despite everything that had happened, she wasn't ready to let him go. "Tom, you mentioned two promises. What else do you need?"

  "You. I need you to live, Kate. Really live. Max's death was not your fault. I tried to tell you that over there, in that padded room where they stuck you and again this morning in that diner. But I couldn't get through. You've got to find a way to let the past go. Forgive yourself. I know I'm asking a hell of a lot. But Max? If anyone's responsible for his death, it's me. I got him involved. I just couldn't believe Tanner would desert, so I tracked down a mortuary affairs specialist I knew at Dover. The guy was there when Tanner's body was flown back to the States. I guess I just needed a set of eyes I trusted to sign off on Tanner's death, ya know? Except he told me something didn't look right. He'd spotted several scalpel-like cuts in the scorched mess they made of Tanner's innards—but he was ordered to leave before he could investigate. So when I got sent back over there, I brought his suspicions to Max. I begged Max to look into it. B-believe me, the doc would not have wanted you to spend your life flogging yourself for something you couldn't have prevented. T-trust m-me."

  Panic surged through her body as Burke seemed to run out of steam. And then his breath caught, before ceasing for several terrifying moments. His lungs started up again on a stunted cough, but the man's breathing was painfully shallow now.

  His lips were beyond blue.

  Damn it, she just couldn't sit here and watch him die.

  She tugged her fingers from his, intent on retrieving her driver's license and a credit card from her wallet. Sealing the plastic to his entrance and exit wounds just might give him enough of a reprieve so she could convince him—

  "No." His hand flailed as he tried to retrieve hers. "Please. I meant what I said. It's too damned late for me. But not for you. Let me finish. I won't get another chance."

  The tears clogged her throat as she nodded. She returned her hand to his chest. Allowed him to grab on and hold it, as she held onto him while he gathered his remaining strength.

  "It's true, Kate. Max's death is on me. He called to tell me the Dover specialist was right. And that he'd found something else. Someone. He said he needed to bring you in on it. But I was on a mission when he called. So he left that vague voicemail instead of the proof he'd found—and Cordoba's name. I got back an hour after that ambush. I went looking for you guys the second I heard his message. I found that compound. But I was too late. Max and the others were already dead. And you were gone. But I saw those bastards' bodies in that hovel. I know what h
appened. There is no blessed way you could've saved him. None. So do both Max and m-me a favor. Save yourself."

  "Tom—"

  "No." He struggled through several more shallow coughs. They finally eased, but there was blood trickling from the corner of his mouth now. Steadily. "The only word I want from you is yes. Promise me you'll take that Silver Star out of your trunk. Mount it on the goddamned wall. That thing is proof you made it out in one piece. There aren't nearly enough soldiers who can say that. And, yeah, I know...I know it won't ch-change...overnight."

  Her heart clenched as his voice broke, before slipping into a whisper. She cupped her free hand to his face and cradled it as she leaned closer to catch the rest.

  "You're gonna have to w-work h-hard, but you'll get there. You're tough, Chief. I believe in you. Don't ever...d-don't ever forget that."

  She managed a nod. Her throat was so raw and thick, she couldn't speak. She wasn't sure he'd caught the motion before his lashes drifted down, so she sealed his palm to the scars that covered the right side of her face and nodded again, but it was too late.

  Burke was dead.

  She wasn't sure how long she sat there in the stark silence, listening to her own heart thumping beneath the occasional, muted growl from a still pissed-off Ruger guarding Joe behind her.

  Eventually, the sirens overtook both. Lou must've turned on his phone and gotten her message.

  Once again, the cavalry had arrived. But this time, it was just too goddamned late.

  The package Burke had referenced in the clinic arrived by courier the following morning. Between Grant's photos, the cellphones Burke had culled from his victims and the four-year diary which detailed the vet's recovery and growing desire for revenge—along with every unsavory fact Burke had managed to uncover about Madrigal Medical and VitaCell Tissue's side businesses—they were able to take down the entire grisly operation, including a US senator and federal appeals court justice.

  Joe hadn't been exaggerating; he could've pulled off Burke's disappearance and funded a Caribbean retirement to boot. As it was, the former CID agent was on his way to the US Disciplinary Barracks at Fort Leavenworth. Joe had copped a plea, trading his freedom to assure Elise's.