Among Thieves (37 page)

“That’s correct,” Finn said.

The young assistant district attorney stood. “If I may address this issue, Your Honor?” he said.

Platt peered over his glasses down at the man. “Mr. Hendricks, do you have anything to add that Ms. Kelley did not address
the other day?”

“Only that in light of Mr. Malley’s outburst the other day—”

“I was here, Mr. Hendricks. If you are about to instruct me on the weight I should give that in determining bail, then zip
it. You don’t need to remind me of Mr. Malley’s behavior. Do you have anything else—anything new—to add?”

Hendricks’s mouth moved silently for a moment, as if he was willing the words to come. “No, Your Honor,” he said finally.
“I don’t.”

“Didn’t think so,” Platt said. He looked at Finn. “Counselor, I assume you’ve been wandering these halls for long enough to
know when to keep your mouth shut?”

“I have, Your Honor. Thank you.”

Platt looked at Devon. “Mr. Malley, at the time when you assaulted your attorney the other day, I was about to set a very
low bail. Hell, I was even thinking about granting your release on your own recognizance. Now, because of your outburst, I
am considering not setting bail at all.” The speech seemed rehearsed, but as the words came out of his mouth, Finn could feel
the last of Platt’s anger slip out with them. His indignation was gone, and now he just seemed tired. He took a deep, weary
breath. “Never mind; what’s the point,” he said. “Bail is set at fifty thousand dollars. Bailiff, call the next case.”

The courtroom broke into motion. The bailiff shouted out the case number of the next matter, and another defense attorney
stepped up to the bar, putting his briefcase down on defense counsel’s table. Another bailiff moved over and took Devon by
the elbow, and Finn stepped back from the table. Devon looked at him.

“Don’t worry,” Finn said. “I have a bondsman lined up. It’ll cost five grand to post. I’ve got the money ready, and I’ll cover
it.”

“Thanks, Finn. I’ll pay you back.”

“Goddamned right you will,” Finn said. “I’ll have you posted in ten minutes. It’ll take another hour to process you out, but
I’ll meet you out front.”

“Okay,” Devon said.

Then he was gone, and Finn was standing alone in a room full of people. The hearing had been the easy part, he knew. From
here on, it was going to get a lot harder.

The man who had abducted Sally repeated the same ritual over and over. Every few hours he would come down the stairs to give
her a sip of water and a bite to eat. There was no kindness; he showed no more feeling toward her than he might toward a plant
he was watering. If anything, the longer she was there, the less humanity he seemed to have.

Sally had changed, too. She was now at the point where she might have preferred dehydration to the periodic maintenance. At
first, her situation had seemed unreal. That changed when the man brought the body downstairs.

She’d seen that there was someone else in the house when he hurried her through toward the basement, but the man with the
dark hair had pushed her downstairs too quickly for her to get a good look at the other man. Now she’d had more of a look
than she’d ever wanted, and she knew that if she lived through the ordeal, the man’s face would haunt every minute of sleep
she might manage to have.

She couldn’t tell what was happening when she heard her captor open the door the night before, grunting his exertion. She
could hear him dragging something down the stairs, and it sounded as if the planks would snap as the weight slammed down,
step by step. She knew it was a dead body by the time it reached the bottom of the stairs.

Now he lay there, not more than ten feet from her. The man with the black hair hadn’t even bothered to turn the body over
on its stomach or close the eyes; he lay on his side, frozen in death, staring at her. The tongue dangled from the lips, dark
and synthetic, like a rubber toy hanging stiff and thick. She could see a deep wound on the chest, and the slice through the
neck caused the head to tilt back, revealing what looked like a huge second mouth.

It was starting to smell.

The body chased away any doubt of the danger she was in. She understood fully now that if she was to survive this, it was
going to take all of her focus and concentration. She thought briefly about giving up; hoping for death. She’d led a life
thick with disappointment and despair, and it wouldn’t be unreasonable for her to call it quits now. After all, hadn’t she
suffered enough?

The thought was fleeting, though. If anything, the reminder of what death was—brutal, and lonely, and final—sharpened her
desire for life. As she lay there, plastered to the cold, unforgiving cellar floor, she made a vow to herself that she would
never again let anyone determine the course of her life. She was done with grown-ups; done with parents; done with relying
on others. From now on, she would rely only on herself. That thought gave her hope for the future. That thought strengthened
her will to live.

Finn went straight to the clerk’s office at the courthouse once the bail hearing was over. As he walked, he placed a call
on his cell phone to a bail bondsman and confirmed the amount needed to secure Devon’s release. The bondsman was one with
whom Finn dealt regularly—a colorful character named Shifty LaRue, whose interests extended to nightclubs and parking lots—and
he sent over a messenger with all the forms needed. Finn paid the messenger with a check written on the firm’s account, and
within a half hour Devon was brought down in street clothes. He was sweating despite the fact that it was in the fifties outside
and there was a chill in the courthouse.

“What now?” Devon asked.

“First, we need to deal with finances,” Finn said.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Devon,” Finn said. “I just laid out five thousand dollars to get you free. That’s on top of nearly
twenty thousand we’ve got sunk into this case in fees so far. Plus, it’s going to get more expensive as the case proceeds.”

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ kidding, right?” Devon said. “My daughter’s been kidnapped; we’ve got to get her back.”

“And we will. I’ve been on the outside, and my people and I have been dealing with this shit for a week—shit that you knew
about and didn’t share with us. For Christ’s sake, Devon, you put me and my people in harm’s way. My associate ended up in
the hospital because of you, and this psychopath almost fucked up her pregnancy.”

“I thought you didn’t care about the money. That’s what you said.”

“That was before. I changed my mind; now I want to get paid.”

“I told you, you’re gonna get paid,” Devon said. “But first we get Sally back.”

Finn shook his head. “Bullshit. We get paid now, or you’re on your own. Period. That’s not negotiable, Devon. Hell, I don’t
know where you’re gonna be tomorrow. I’m not gonna get stiffed. You say you can pay? Prove it.”

Devon put his hands in his pockets and looked away. “Fine,” he said. “You want your fuckin’ money, I’ll get you your fuckin’
money.”

“Good.”

“But then you’re in this. To the end.”

“As long as we get paid, we’re in this to the end,” Finn agreed.

Devon hesitated a moment. Then he said, “We gotta go to my apartment.”

Finn put his hand out toward the courthouse exit. “You lead the way,” he said.

Kozlowski was waiting for them outside. He’d spent the morning and the first part of the afternoon getting Lissa released
from the hospital and set up in her apartment.

“How’s she doing?” Finn asked.

“She’ll be okay,” Kozlowski replied. “I told her to keep the door locked and not let anyone in unless it was you or me. I
also told her to keep the phone in her hand and 911 on speed dial.”

“Kilbranish isn’t going after her,” Finn said. “He wants Devon.” He looked at his client and saw the man shiver.

“Where to?” Kozlowski asked.

“Devon’s apartment,” Finn replied. “We’re gonna get paid. Then we can deal with getting Sally back.”

Kozlowski nodded. “My car’s in the lot around the corner,” he said.

“You don’t think the three of us can fit in the MG?”

“Fuck you.”

“Right.”

Finn left his car parked, and the three of them headed to the public lot on State Street where Kozlowski had left his car.
It was a giant gas-guzzling Chevy Caprice that was at least ten years old. It had enough room in it for a tennis match, though,
and even Finn had to admit it was better suited to their needs that day.

No one spoke on the ride to Devon’s apartment. Finn hadn’t been there since the day he’d picked up Sally. It was hard to believe
that was only four days ago. Since then, it seemed as though his entire world had changed, and not for the better.

Kozlowski parked his car in front of the apartment, and they all climbed out. The apartment hadn’t changed. It was still a
rathole. Maybe he could take some solace in the fact that the rest of the world went on unaware of the chaos going on all
around it. Maybe that provided the only semblance of stability there was in the universe.

Devon pulled out his keys and opened the door. As soon as they stepped in, they all smelled it. It was impossible to miss—the
unmistakable stench of rot and decay. “Holy shit, I think I’m gonna throw up,” Devon said.

Kozlowski pulled his gun out. “I’ll go first,” he said quietly.

“Okay,” Finn replied. He hung back as Kozlowski moved into the apartment. There wasn’t much to search. There was a living
room in front; in the 1920s, when the place had been built, it had probably been called a parlor. There was nothing amiss
there, though. At the back of the living room there was a door and a hallway.

“Where do those lead?” Kozlowski asked Devon.

“The door goes to the kitchen,” he said. “The hallway goes to the bedrooms and a bathroom.”

“How many bedrooms?”

“Two.”

“Anything else back there?”

“A closet, but that’s it.”

Kozlowski held his gun at the ready, with two hands, pointed at the ceiling. He moved across the living room to the hallway.
For such a large man, it was amazing the way he could travel without any sound, Finn thought. “Stay here,” he said.

Finn looked at Devon. “We’ll stay here,” he said.

Kozlowski disappeared down the hallway. It seemed as if he was gone for a long time, though it was probably only a minute
or so. He came back out and shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. He motioned toward the kitchen door and gave a signal for
Finn and Devon to remain where they were. He slid along the wall, his gun still at the ready. Then he swung around the corner,
pointing the pistol in front of him as he went, and disappeared through the door. A moment later he yelled, “Found it!”

Finn glanced at Devon and then the two of them moved toward the kitchen. The stench intensified as they approached the door,
until it grew overpowering. Then they stepped into the room.

The kitchen was small, little more than a galley, and Kozlowski was standing in the middle of it, making it difficult to see.
Moving to the side, though, Finn could see what was causing the stench.