In Shadows (22 page)

HE EERIE NOISE WAS CLOSE
enough behind them that for the first time Jake could tell exactly where it was, and he could have sworn that he heard more than whispers. It sounded like a heavy bass rumble that might have been some kind of out-of-phase motor turning. But whenever a lightning bolt struck there was nothing to see but rain and trees.

Then suddenly Pierce stopped in his tracks, and Mandi and Jake collided. Jake tugged at Pierce’s hand, but he quickly understood what Pierce already knew. The whispering had stopped. There were no sounds but the rain and rushing water. Without the whispers and the weird thrumming, even the sound of the rain and the thunder seemed subdued. The three of them stood for long minutes, like shell-shocked soldiers waiting for the next cannon blast. Jake put his free arm around Mandi’s shoulders, drawing both her and Pierce into a tight embrace.

“Where is it?” she said.

“Ask Pierce.”

She took Pierce’s hand, and they communicated silently.

“He says he doesn’t hear it.”

Jake watched her in the flashes, illuminated like a dancer in a strobe show. Her hair was pasted to her head, her clothes were sodden. But she was even more beautiful than he remembered, and his heart ached because of the terror that he felt he had somehow brought down upon them.

When the next bolt struck Jake tried to make sense of their surroundings, but everything around them was just trees and muddy, leaf-lined ground, and the rain lent a sense of continued urgency to their plight. No telling when this area would flood. They could be washed away again at any minute.

And then suddenly Pierce stumbled back against Jake, slapping at Jake’s pant leg. A bolt of lightning illuminated a small glade, and Jake saw something large creeping toward them through the rain, something dark as the night itself and almost as shapeless.

“Move!” he shouted, jerking Mandi and Pierce backward. He could just make out the low whispering again, all around them, and Mandi’s ragged breaths added a fevered chorus to the weird sounds.

“Did you see it?” she panted, crashing through the underbrush.

“Didn’t you?”

“I didn’t see anything.”

But he could tell by the way she pulled Pierce along between them that she believed him. Jake waved his free hand in front of his face, taking fast steps, kicking out with his toes to test for impediments before placing his foot down. He finally stumbled into a thigh-deep ditch, and two almost simultaneous lightning bolts revealed that they were only paces from his car.

“Made it,” he shouted, wondering at just how close to the road Pierce had actually brought them.

“Thank God,” said Mandi.

“Don’t thank Him yet,” said Jake. “I barely got through some of the water back toward Pam’s place. We’ll be lucky to make it home.”

“I just want to be in the car and away from that thing.”

“Come on,” said Jake, dragging them down the road behind him.

MMY DIDN’T WASTE TIME WORRYING
about Paco or the cop or how his attorneys might get him out of this one. Things had escalated way beyond that by the time the old sheriff burst into the house. Obviously the cop had already discovered Smitty’s body inside the trunk of the car. And he and Paco had left way too many fingerprints and who knew what the fuck else that they hadn’t had time to get rid of. And they’d both been seen with the car, anyway.

Jake Crowley had ruined his business and murdered his brother. That was enough to set Jimmy on the killing path. But top that off with a series of events that Jimmy now believed couldn’t all be coincidence—the plane, the rental car breaking down, the flood, running into the first cop, hitting the kid on the highway—and Jimmy had begun to understand that the fates were against him. Sometimes you won, sometimes you lost, and there wasn’t a goddamned thing you could do about it. But when that happened it was Jimmy’s nature to want to take someone else down with him. And he had decided that someone was not only going to be
Jake Crowley but everyone else in this fucking valley that he could get his hands on. Jake had a woman here. Maybe a kid from what Jimmy could tell. He was starting to form a picture inside his head, an image of Jake Crowley watching both of them die. Knowing it was Jimmy doing the killing. Knowing why.

Of course when he was done here, Jimmy Torrio was going to have to die, too. His organization in Houston was finished, and he’d be a wanted man. But he knew that he could resurface with a new identity. Rebuilding his fortune would take time, but it was doable. And eventually he’d probably even bring some of his old staff back on board. Not Paco, though. Paco was far too much of a liability now. Before Jimmy Torrio disappeared, Paco was going to have to disappear, as well.

Jimmy’s night vision was better than most. That was one of the reasons he’d made it into the Special Forces. But with the thick storm overhead, the dense falling rain, and the cover of trees all around, it was impossible to see more than dim outlines, and he kept his eyes squinted tightly against the rain and blinding flashes of lightning. The forest was a world of shadow and spectral mist as Jimmy slipped out onto the road, reveling in the feel of slishy gravel beneath his bare feet. In fact he was so immersed in the rain, the forest, the darkness, and the even deeper blackness within that he passed the first driveway before he was aware of it, and he stopped, picturing the kid’s map again in his mind, locking the valley into a hard image he could use to his advantage.

This was the driveway to the old man’s house. It was a crime scene, and there’d be no one there now. He waffled between wanting to loot the house for weapons or clothes and the desire to remain as he was, a murderous animal freed of human restraint. Finally reason won out, and he padded up the drive, mud
slishing
between his toes.

He paid no attention to any evidence he might be leaving as he busted the glass with his palm and unlocked the door. He was in a curious state where
everything
he experienced was on a heightened level. It felt just as good to be out of the rain as it did to be in it.

He searched quickly through the trailer, but the old man’s clothes were much too small, and there were no guns anywhere. Rage and frustration overwhelmed him, and once again he pictured himself, only this time he was killing Crowley with his bare hands, and the image stirred him so profoundly that he found himself becoming sexually aroused. He glanced at his half-erect penis and laughed out loud.

Too fucking much.

He chose a heavy chef’s knife from a kitchen drawer, testing it against his thumb. Not as sharp as he would have liked. But it would do. The knife ruined the image of his fingers around Jake Crowley’s throat. But enough of Jimmy’s training won through that he was unable to leave the weapon behind.

He strode back out into the rain naked but armed.

OU ALWAYS WEAR HANDMADE ITALIAN LOAFERS
?” asked Virgil, waving one of the shoes at Paco. Paco gave him a careful look. “How come you know so much about shoes?”

“It’s a hobby.”

Paco shrugged.

“Pretty unusual pattern on the sole,” mused Virgil, pretending to study the star.

“So?”

“Just curious. I found the same imprint at a friend’s house just recently.”

“What friend?”

“He’s dead,” said Virgil. “Beaten to death.”

“Bullshit,” said Paco. “I don’t know nothing about no murder.”

“Oh, come on, Paco,” said Virgil. “I found a corpse in the trunk of that car you and your boss stole. That’s one murder. Might as well ‘fess up to everything. Make it a clean slate. These are your shoes with the star on the sole. They’re too
small to fit your boss. So I can place you at the scene of Albert’s killing. Why did you murder the old man? You weren’t there to rob him. Did Jimmy send you to do it? Was it to get information or to get back at Jake?”

“You’re crazy, man. I don’t know nothing about no murder or no corpse in a trunk.”

“Really? That wasn’t you in the car that tried to kill me out on the highway? How did you and Jimmy get here, then?”

“We hitchhiked.”

Virgil sighed. “Paco, I’m thinking that you just got sucked into something you didn’t want to do. Ain’t that right?”

Paco just glared.

“That’s usually the way it is,” continued Virgil. “The big guy calls the shots, and it’s the little guy who has to pay the piper, or spend the rest of his life behind bars, as the case may be. But you’re smart enough to know about state’s evidence.”

“I’m smart enough to know you don’t pull that shit on Jimmy Torrio,” said Paco.

“Why not?”

Paco laughed. “Because I’d rather spend the rest of my life behind bars than die in this fucked-up place.”

“You may die here, anyway,” said Virgil.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Virgil shrugged. “There’s talk about the old Crowley curse.”

Paco frowned. “Whatcha talking about? There ain’t no fucking curse here.”

Virgil squinted, leaning close to Paco’s face, sensing something new there. A fear neither he nor Jimmy Torrio was responsible for. “You’ve heard it before, haven’t you? You got that look in your eyes. Did you hear it the day you murdered Albert?”

Paco’s breathing quickened, and his face colored. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Virgil nodded. “Like a whispering sound . . .”

Paco glared at him.

“It gets louder and louder,” said Virgil. “It’ll scare the shit out of you.”

“Get fucked,” said Paco.

Virgil shrugged again. “What are you gonna do when you hear it, Paco? After I’m gone.”

“What do you mean, after you’re gone?” said Paco nervously. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“I gotta go find your boss,” said Virgil.

Paco shook his head, glancing around the house. “You ain’t going out there. You’d have to be crazy. Jimmy’s a trained Ranger killer. He’s like fucking Rambo. You ain’t that stupid.”

“You have no idea how stupid I am,” said Virgil, rising slowly again. “I sure hope that last candle doesn’t blow out, or it’s gonna get real dark in here.”

“Don’t you leave me!” said Paco.

“Then tell me what you know, and don’t give me any bullshit.”

Paco clammed up again. But his eyes were fluttering with indecision.

“What kind of training does Jimmy have?” asked Virgil, changing the topic.

“He’s an army killer. I’m telling you, he’s like Rambo.”

“How come a Ranger ends up being a crook?”

“Who said we were crooks?”

Virgil laughed. “You wouldn’t be crosswise of Jake Crowley if you weren’t.”

“How come you know so much about Jake Crowley?”

“He’s an old friend,” said Virgil. “Why are you two here? What’s Jimmy planning?”

“Crowley messed in Jimmy’s business. Nobody fucks with Torrio business. Then when he killed José, Jimmy went a little crazy.”

Virgil nodded. Just as he’d suspected.
That
was probably enough to set off a crazy ex-Ranger.

“What will Jimmy do now?”

Paco hesitated. “Maybe look for Crowley’s cousin’s place.”

Virgil felt his blood go cold.

“How would he know how to get there?”

“Up the road I guess. There’s only the highway or the valley. Where the hell else would he go?”

Maybe back out onto the highway to try to get the hell away, if he was as bright as Virgil suspected he was. On the other hand, Jimmy seemed crazy enough to stay and keep hunting for Jake, even naked, unarmed, and lost.

Or he might be just outside the door, waiting for Virgil to come looking for him.

Wind rattled the house, and Virgil glanced at the busted window. On impulse he inspected the windows and doors again by the light of the flashlight. For the first time he noticed the desk in the corner of Pierce’s room. Staring down at the stark white topo map, he could see fallen plastic trees where Jimmy’s hand must have rested over the plastic letters marking Pam and Ernie’s place.

“Shit,” he said, hurrying back down the hall to Paco. “Do you know Jake’s cousin’s name?”

Paco frowned. “Pam.”

Rain thrummed on the porch roof so hard the floor vibrated, and the curtain blew inward. Paco and Virgil both stared at it. Then, when neither Jimmy nor some horrible shadow burst through, they each sighed and turned to face one another again.

“You got nothing more to say to me?” asked Virgil.

“About what?” asked Paco, eyeing him nervously.

Virgil shrugged. “About the day you killed Albert? About what you heard or saw?”

Paco swallowed a large lump in his throat.

“I guess I’ll be going,” said Virgil, starting past him toward the kitchen.

“Don’t leave me here!” screamed Paco.

“Then talk.”

Sweat trickled down Paco’s cheeks. “I don’t know nothing about no curse. When I got there, the old man was already dead.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Paco.”

“Okay. Okay. But I didn’t kill him. Swear to God. I kind of passed out. When I came to there was blood everywhere. I couldn’t beat up a man that bad if I tried.”

Virgil stared at the little crook, certain he was telling the truth. Whatever killed the girl had more than likely killed Albert, and probably Rich and those guys on the beach in Galveston, as well.

“But you came here to kill Albert, right?”

Paco shook his head so hard sweat flew. “I didn’t. Jimmy didn’t want the old man dead. He’s really pissed at me about that. He wanted information on Jake Crowley. Any dirt we could dig up. And he wanted Crowley to know that we knew where his family was.”

“You left your footprint on a piece of newspaper at the scene of the crime,” Virgil reminded him.

“I didn’t do it. Honest to God. Maybe I stepped in some blood . . . There was blood all over the fucking place. But I didn’t kill him.”

Virgil nodded. “I believe you, Paco.”

“So what are you gonna do, then?” asked Paco, glaring again. “You ain’t gonna leave me here?”

“Got to,” said Virgil, not able to put the slightest empathy into his voice.

“You said you wouldn’t leave me!” screamed Paco.

Virgil shook his head. “I don’t believe I ever really said that.”

He hurried quietly through the house. When he reached the back door he hesitated for only an instant, the weight of Paco’s and Jimmy’s pistols bulging in his pants. He eased open the freezer door and quietly slid them both behind packages of frozen vegetables, closing the door silently.

If Jimmy was watching the house it made sense that he’d be doing so out front, figuring Virgil to exit that way. Instead he slipped through the back door, closing it quickly behind him. He waded across the backyard into the trees where he dropped to his knees, surrounded by bracken, waiting impatiently for his eyes to grow accustomed to the near-total darkness. There was no way he could chance turning the flashlight on, not even for an instant. That would be like sending up a flare for Jimmy.

It took him half an hour to creep from the rear of the house to the road. And all that time he tried to remember everything his father had taught him about hunting more than fifty years before. That was all this was, after all. A hunt. It was just that his prey was an intelligent animal trained in every way there was to kill a man. That thought kept Virgil’s heart thumping in his chest, and once again he reminded himself how old and frail he was compared to his quarry.

This is downright stupid, Virgil.

Doris’s voice in his head had the self-righteous attitude to it that she took when he
was
doing something particularly bullheaded. But she knew as well as he did that he couldn’t allow Jimmy Torrio to sneak up on Jake. His plan—if this fiasco could be called
a plan
—was now more about warning
Jake than trying to catch Jimmy out here in the woods. He knew that he might well get killed attempting even that, but at least he was going to try.

When he reached the road, the forest that had seemed so threatening only moments before turned into a comforting cover that he was reluctant to leave. He tried skirting the lane through the trees, but eventually he realized that he was going to make more noise that way, and take far too long getting to Jake. If Jimmy did know the layout of the valley now—and he wasn’t lying in wait back at Mandi’s—then he probably wasn’t wasting his time prowling through the forest. Virgil crept out onto the slimy gravel lane, wiping rain out of his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

But when he reached the bottom of Albert’s driveway he had to make a decision.

Would Jimmy head straight for Pam and Ernie’s? Or would he take the first driveway in hope of finding clothes and maybe a weapon? If he was up at Albert’s, would Virgil be better off following him—maybe surprising him—or should he hurry on to Pam’s place to warn Jake?

Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Virgil tossed the mental coin even though he already knew how it was going to fall and started up Albert’s drive.