Dead End Fix (6 page)

“Hayden?” Mort knocked on the door to his granddaughter's bedroom. “It's Papa, honey. Can I come in?”

Mort heard the shuffle of slippered feet behind the pine door.

“I'm feeling lonely out here, sweetie. I sure could use some company.”

“I don't feel good, Papa. Maybe you could go downstairs and come see me some other time.”

Mort's heart broke at the sound of the girl's voice. Hayden had isolated herself since her twin disappeared. Robbie and Claire tried their best to comfort her, but they were overwhelmed themselves. A team of FBI agents in their home, demanding access to every intimate family detail, fueled the family's despair.

“That's a 10-0, Hayden.” Mort hoped the police scanner code for “poor reception” would be enough to get his granddaughter to let him in. “Repeat.”

The door opened wide enough for Mort to see Hayden's blue eyes, swollen from crying. “Papa, I'm so scared.”

Mort bumped the door open with his hip and scooped Hayden into his arms. He paced the hallway with her, rubbing her back as she sobbed into his shoulder. “Me too. We're doing everything we can to bring your sister back. It's okay to be scared. It's okay.”

He carried his granddaughter back and forth across the patterned carpet runner in the upstairs hall. Robbie and Claire had chosen a roomy Dutch Colonial when they moved to Seattle from Denver. Their master bedroom was at the east end. At the center of the hall was the entry to their daughters' room. Hayden and Hadley shared a large space with wide windows—Robbie and Claire insisted that what little sunlight Seattle offered shine in on their girls. Mort walked and cooed, whispering assurances until Hayden's sobs drifted first into sniffles and then into one heavy sigh. Then he carried her back into her bedroom and laid her head on her pillow. Hayden's bed was separated from Hadley's by the old wooden desk Robbie had once used for his own homework. Hayden's bedspread was tufted gingham as green as a meadow in spring. Hadley's was the same fabric in pink.

Mort settled himself on the floor between his granddaughters' beds and waited for Hayden to say something.

“I shoulda told Mommy and Daddy about the phone Aunt Allie gave Hadley.” Hayden's voice was barely a whisper. “They woulda stopped her for sure. Hadley mighta been mad at me, but that's better than her being disappeared.”

“This isn't your fault.”

“I made a promise, Papa. Hadley made me promise not to tell, so I didn't.” Hayden's eyes were wide. The plea in them stabbed into Mort's chest like a red-hot dagger. “I didn't think it would be bad. I didn't think that for one stinkin' minute.”

Mort remembered the first time he saw Hayden's eyes. She was less than two hours old. Mort had been sitting with Edie for nearly six hours at the same Seattle hospital where Robbie and Allie had been born. Playing cards, reading the papers, drinking bad coffee, and waiting for news. When Robbie finally came to get them, so exhausted he could barely walk, he was grinning like a jack-o'-lantern on Halloween night.

“I've got
girls,
” Mort remembered his son saying. “Two of them. Claire was magnificent.
Twins.
Doc says they're perfect.”

Edie cried. Mort wrapped Robbie in a bear hug and danced him around the polished linoleum of the obstetrics waiting room. Then the three of them floated to the nursery, leaning on one another as ecstatic words of hopes and dreams tumbled from their lips.

“There they are.” Edie pointed to a double-sized clear bassinet. “There are my grandbabies.”

Mort looked down at the two small bundles inside. One twin, who he soon learned was Hadley, wore a pink cap and slept sweetly, wrapped up in her matching blanket. Next to her was her sister, wearing a white cap and squirming against the constraints of her swaddling. Mort watched her little legs push as tiny hands reached upward. Hayden.

Then it happened.

The miniature human opened her ice blue eyes and looked right at him. Separated by glass and under lights Mort wanted to scream were too bright, Hayden Edith Grant, newly born and instantly loved, fixed on him…claimed him…and he was hers.

Edie used to tell him not to get used to the color. “Lots of babies are born with blue eyes. They'll change. It may take a while, but that color will settle down.”

It didn't. His granddaughters were seven years old now. Their eyes were still the color of an Alaskan glacier in full sunlight.

And now those mesmerizing eyes begged him for forgiveness.

“Honey, this has nothing to do with anything you've done.”

Hayden looked away.

“Have I ever lied to you?”

She pulled a stuffed panda closer to her and held it against her chest.

“Ever? Maybe even once?” Mort asked.

Hayden shook her head. Blond curls danced across her pillow.

“I'm not going to start now. Look at me, sweetie. Can you?”

Hayden turned toward her grandfather, giving Mort a full view of her torture. He laid his hand on the panda she clutched as armor.

“Aunt Allie took Hadley. We think Hadley wanted to go.”

“She left a note.”

“I know she did. She said she was going on an adventure, remember?”

Hayden's breath caught. Mort stroked her hair, hoping to avert another round of pain-filled tears.

“Aunt Allie didn't have permission to take Hadley, sweetheart. And Hadley didn't have Mom and Dad's permission to go.”

“Is she going to be in trouble?”

“Hadley? No, sweetie. We're going to be happy when Hadley comes home. She belongs here. With us.”

Hayden scooted closer to Mort. He touched the end of her turned-up nose and smiled.

“What about Aunt Allie? Will she be in trouble? She belongs here with us too, right?”

Mort heaved a sigh. He had just promised never to lie to his granddaughter. But he was forced to deal with the difficult truth that his daughter, the golden child who had once brought such magic into his and Edie's lives, had grown into a calculating criminal. A manipulative murderer who held nothing and no one above her own desires.

But to Hayden and Hadley, Allie was a fairy princess. A beautiful vision promising the moon and the stars.

“Let's go downstairs, sweetie. We'll see what Mom and Dad are up to, okay?”

She rolled off the bed and into his arms. Mort held her and rocked, promising her everything would be fine. When she pulled away and headed down the hall, Mort was relieved. He hadn't had to lie. And he hadn't had to tell the truth.

No, Hayden. Your aunt Allie doesn't belong here with us.

“What the fuck?” D'Loco called out from the porch of the old three-story Victorian that served as the 97s' clubhouse. “I know I only gave you twenty, but damn, son. Brother could fix hisself up with something better than…what the hell is that?”

Kashawn Meadows rolled up to the front of the house. He beamed a toothy grin at D'Loco and six other brothers relaxing in the day's last rays of sunlight.

“It's a Schwinn.” Kashawn got off his new bike and walked it up the stairs. “Just picked it up.” He pulled a large bag off the back.

“Where you get that at?” The brother Kashawn knew as Six Pack ran his beefy hand across the chrome handlebar. “Toys ‘R' Us?”

“What kind of jelly you gonna grab with that?” Slow Time asked. “Boy, you ain't seein' no action ridin' round on that thing.”

“I tole you I take you drivin' first thing.” J-Fox shook his head. “You be ready for your license test in a week. Why you go get yourself a pedal pusher?”

Kashawn's pride dropped away, replaced by shame. He painted over it with anger.

“I got a job.” He nodded toward D'Loco. “Been assigned my own work. I'ma take my ass to the DMV soon's I can. Get my license and I'ma get my car. Till then I ain't gonna be countin' on any of you gooks get my ass to work.” He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest. “Anybody got a problem with that, come see me.”

The group answered with a chorus of catcalls and chuckles. Kashawn threw his shoulders back. He glared at his brothers, hoping more than anything no one would detect his humiliation.

D'Loco stepped toward him, pulling the bicycle away from Kashawn. “I 'member jonesin' for one of these back in the ago. Wanted a red one, too. Like this one here.” Kashawn wanted to grab it back. He'd paid six hundred dollars for it. That was more than Kashawn had ever dreamed of paying for anything in his life. But it was D'Loco's money he'd handed over to that bike shop owner. D'Loco owned everything the 97s had.

He stepped aside and watched his leader walk the bike back down the stairs and climb onto the seat. D'Loco wobbled with his first pump, but by the time he completed his first wide circle around the weed-choked front lawn, D'Loco was pedaling smooth as caramel candy.

“How's this?” he called out to his men. “Hot damn. This shit is some fun right here.”

The 97s watched D'Loco ride away from the house. A few of them jogged out and stood in the middle of the street, calling out encouragement as their boss disappeared down the block. Kashawn stayed on the porch, wondering if D'Loco would let him keep the bike after he kicked him out of the club.
That was one dumb move,
he thought.
I shoulda knowed better than bring a kiddie toy back to the crib.

D'Loco was back a few minutes later, laughing as he jumped the curb and braked to a stop at the bottom of the clubhouse stairs. He hopped off the bike and waved Kashawn to him.

“She ride good.” D'Loco handed the bike back to Kashawn, then turned his attention to the men gathered around him. “Green K here says any you motherfuckers got a problem with his bike you can take it to him. He wrong about that.”

Kashawn's heart pounded in his chest.
Here it comes. I'm gone.

“Anybody got a problem with Green K's ride,” D'Loco continued, “you come see
me.
Brother got a job. He find a way get his ass to work each day. Green K don't come to me wonderin' 'bout how he gonna get to his corner. Don't bother none of y'all with his transportation needs neither. Brother get hisself what he need to get the job done.” D'Loco turned back to Kashawn. “That was more fun I had in days, boy. I thank you for it.” Then D'Loco leaned in and whispered, “Now get with J-Fox and get yourself that license. And a car. You a 97 now. You gonna need four wheels what I have in mind for you.” D'Loco slapped the seat of the bicycle and called out to the rest of the men. “I'ma get me one of these. Damn, that stuff's fun.”

Kashawn's eyes shot open when he felt the slap to his feet.

“You didn't hear me knockin'?” Big Cheeks grabbed both sides of Kashawn's headphones and popped them against his ears. “Wha'choo got that volume set at, anyway? I coulda come in here, take anything I had a mind to. Gotta learn to take care yourself.”

Kashawn swung his legs off his bed and stood. He used the remote to click off the new sound system he'd carried home on his bike. He'd been so wrapped up in his newfound luck he hadn't realized he'd been in his room for two hours, listening to his tunes and dreaming of LaTonya. What would she say if she knew he'd spent over a thousand dollars today? New bike, new sound, new headset. Spent that money without so much as a blink. Stopped for a turkey and Swiss at the Subway, too. What did he care about how much things cost? He was a 97 now. Had a bankroll handed to him by D'Loco himself. Had a job, too. When this money was gone, there'd be more to replace it.

He was set. Kashawn Meadows had taken his last dumpster dive. He was Green K now. 97 forever.

“D'Loco's rollin'. Wants you there.” Big Cheeks walked to the window and looked down. “He standin' at the car. I was you, I wouldn't keep him waitin'.”

Kashawn reached for his shoes. He nodded toward the gun D'Loco had given him that morning. “I'ma need that?”

“You got a lot to learn, boy,” Big Cheeks said. “You keep your piece with you all times. 'Cept in the shower or you getting laid. Even then you keep it arm's reach.”

Kashawn grabbed his gun and tucked it into his belt. “Where we goin'?”

Big Cheeks's eyes narrowed. “I tole you. D'Loco's rollin'. You don't need more than that.”

Kashawn scrambled down the stairs and out to the Escalade.

“You ride shotgun tonight, Green K.” D'Loco opened the backseat door. “We off to pick someone up. I'ma need him backseat with me. You cool?”

Kashawn hoped he sounded tough and steady. “I'm cool with whatever.”

J-Fox pulled away from the clubhouse. Kashawn reached for his seatbelt. But he noticed neither J-Fox nor D'Loco wore theirs and stopped. He wondered what they did to get rid of that dinging sound the car made when belts aren't fastened.

Man, there's no rules when you're a 97,
he thought.
D'Loco gonna find a way round every little thing.

Kashawn kept his mouth shut while J-Fox drove through the now-dark city streets. In the backseat, D'Loco was on his cell, directing product and assigning duties. Kashawn looked over to J-Fox. Brother looked like he was paying no mind to their leader's conversation, so Kashawn didn't either. He looked out the window and read the strip mall signs as they rolled past. But when D'Loco's tone softened on one call, Kashawn couldn't help but listen. He could tell D'Loco was talking to a woman, lining up something for later. Kashawn focused on the low, teasing rumble in his leader's voice. Like a growl wrapped in soft fur. He'd learn to talk that way. He'd practice with the ladies who came by the house late at night looking to hang with any 97 who'd give them the time. He'd get good at it.

Then he'd try it on LaTonya.

J-Fox pulled to the curb in front of a twenty-four-hour convenience store. Kashawn put a hand on his gun, then reached for the door.

“No need, son.” D'Loco tucked his phone back in his pocket. “We not gettin' out. We pickin' up.”

Kashawn settled back, feeling ashamed at how relieved he was that he wouldn't be expected to run point before D'Loco exited the car. It was dark and he didn't know this part of town. A man came out of the store and walked toward the car.

“There he is,” D'Loco said. “The Ax Man hisself.”

Kashawn was used to most men being bigger than he was. But the man who rapped on the Escalade's window was in a category all by himself. Kashawn put him at least six six. Two hundred eighty pounds at least. Thighs like tree trunks wrapped in denim. Despite the chill of the October night, Ax Man wore a wifebeater T-shirt.
Probably to show off them guns,
Kashawn thought.
And them tattoos.

D'Loco opened the back door.

“Ax Man! Get on in here.”

The man peered inside. He mumbled greetings to J-Fox before staring at Kashawn.

“Who's this, now?”

D'Loco waved his guest inside. “That's Green K. Newest member of the brotherhood. Brought us a Pico. You gonna like him. Green K here know how to make me smile.”

Ax grunted. Kashawn nodded in return. Once Ax was settled in the back with D'Loco, J-Fox steered the Escalade back into the street.

“Been too long you come by the clubhouse,” D'Loco said. “Boys miss you, Ax.”

“Growin' business. Takin' care.” Ax kept his eyes straight ahead. “You tell me different, I'ma listen. But I figure you rather me out earnin' the green. Let them other brothers stay back at the crib spendin' it.”

D'Loco slapped his hand on his knee and laughed. “Green K, you hearin' this? That's why I want you ridin' tonight. I want you meet Ax Man early on. Get to know his style.” D'Loco turned toward Ax. “Green K like you, Ax. Chasin' the Benjamins. That's why I put you two together.”

“Got no time for babysittin',” Ax said.

“Not what I had in mind.” D'Loco's tone was warm and relaxed. “Just wanted the two of you to meet. Maybe give the kid someone to model hisself after. 'Cept for the ladies, that is. You still pushin' Loretta?”

“I am.”

“Man, you don't get tired of that?” D'Loco asked. “Been what? Three years now?”

“Come Christmas Eve. Hear me, D'Loco. Someday you gonna meet a woman make you stop dead in your shoes. Woman make you want to work harder and be better than you ever thought you could do. That's Loretta.”

“Ooohweee!” D'Loco leaned forward. “You hear that, J-Fox? You listenin', Green K? There's some jelly out there waitin' to turn your asses into princes.”

Ax Man shifted his weight in the backseat. Kashawn felt the tension rise. He lowered the passenger seat's visor and used the mirror to give him a view. If Ax took offense and made a move, Kashawn would be ready for him.

“Chill, man.” D'Loco laid a hand on Ax's shoulder. “I know Loretta. She a good woman. A queen. Fact is, that's why I wanted to catch you tonight. Got somethin' special workin'.”

“What's that?” Ax Man asked.

“You know them women talk. Beauty shops. Dress shops. Shoe shops. They always yakkin'. Drifts back to me Loretta's looking at weddin' dresses. That true?”

Ax lowered his head. When he raised it again, Kashawn saw a small smile on the tough guy's lips.

“I'm thinkin' 'bout proposin' by some Christmas lights. Some grab like that.”

“No shit, man?” D'Loco reached for Ax and drew him into a hug. “Ax Man takin' the knee! Man, that's one bet I woulda lost.” He released him and leaned back. “Guess there's no question who's your best man.”

Ax shook his head. “None at all, D'Loco. You know that.”

D'Loco smiled. “I know lotta things. Don't mean I don't like to hear 'em straight from the horse.”

“Ain't nobody else I want standin' next to me when that marryin' business goes down.” Ax looked out the window. “Where we headed?”

“Like I said, I heard there was wedding bells in the wind.” D'Loco tapped the back of J-Fox's headrest. “You know the way, right?”

“I do,” J-Fox said. “Be there less than five.”

“Be where?” Ax Man asked.

“It's all good, man,” D'Loco said. “I don't know if you got your eyes set on a ring for the lovely Loretta, but even if you do, I promise you gonna forget all about it once you see what I have set up tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“You been with me nine years now, that right?”

“Sound true,” Ax said. “Right after you took over from Willy Shimms. I knew you'd be boss a long time. Seemed like the time to make my move.”

“You were tryin' to hold it together on them four little blocks south of Woolbridge Avenue. Remember that?”

Ax Man laughed. “I had me three of the skankiest hos this side of Tukwila. Cuttin' my pot with grass. Real grass. Like from the front yard.”

“You makin' money, though. I took one look at your shit-and-shoe-shine operation and figure any man who could get a payday runnin' that sure could do great things, give him a quality product.”

“We been good together, D'Loco. Been a good ride.”

“Didn't I tell you, on that first day you come to me, didn't I tell you if you do right by me I'ma do right by you?”

“I remember that.”

“Nine years.” D'Loco shook his head and whistled. “Where's time go? Now you gettin' married. I can still count on you run your shop?”

“No doubt.”

“Maybe you even do a bit more, what with a wife to hold up. Maybe some little Axes comin' soon.”

“Loretta got plans, that's for sure.”

“So let me keep up my end. You do me, I pay you back ten times. Just like I said.”

J-Fox turned the Escalade down an alley running behind an abandoned office building on the south side of the airport. He parked where one lone bulb illuminated a steel back door.

“What's this?” Ax Man asked.

“Jeweler man owes me a favor.” D'Loco opened his door and got out. “Details not important. Told him to bring his best. C'mon. Go pick a rock for Loretta. Somethin' make her lady friends jealous. On me.”

“D'Loco, no. This is too much.” Ax Man popped his door open but stayed inside.

“I take care of mine. That still the deal. Now get your black ass out of my car and get your lady some bling.”

Kashawn was the last to get out of the car. He kept his eyes on J-Fox, ready to mirror his actions. He'd never been on a shopping spree with D'Loco before, but if the boss could lay twenty thousand on him just for making him smile, Kashawn couldn't imagine what he'd do for someone who'd worked for him nine long years. D'Loco led the way into the darkened store with his arm around Ax Man's shoulders. Then J-Fox. Kashawn brought up the rear. He was surprised when the steel door slid shut behind him. Kashawn heard the lock slam into place at the exact moment the overhead lights came on.