Next of Kin (36 page)

Finn saw the man’s hand twitch on the gun. The gun didn’t go off, though. The man waved it at him. ‘Go,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Go. Now. Take the girl and go.’

Finn reached back behind him without looking, and he could feel Sally put her hand in his. He kept his eyes on the man in front of him, moving slowly, keeping his body between Sally and the
gun.

The gun itself remained where it was, still pointed at Finn’s torso. He and Sally sidled around the man, up against the brick wall that defined the alley. Finn rotated his body as he
passed, always keeping his face toward the man, until he was backing out of the alley with Sally leading the way.

‘Who killed my mother?’ Finn asked.

The man gave him an uncomprehending look. ‘What?’

‘Who killed my mother? Elizabeth Connor. Did you kill her?’

It took a moment for the look of confusion to clear on the man’s face. With the revelation, he nodded solemnly. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I guess in a way I did. Now
go.’

‘Why?’ Finn demanded. Then he yelled, ‘Why?’

‘I’m sorry,’ the man said. At last the gun came down. ‘I started this.’ He put the gun in his pocket. ‘It’s time for me to end it.’

‘What do you mean? How do you end it?’ Finn was almost tempted to stay. To demand answers. But Sally was pulling on his hand, silently urging him out of danger. ‘Was it
Buchanan? Did he pay you?’ Finn was screaming. ‘Did he pay you to kill my mother?’

‘Go,’ the man said. ‘Don’t ever look back.’

Finn stared at the man. Then he turned, Sally’s hand still in his, and the two of them ran back out onto the street.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

It was an hour later – a busy hour for Coale. Nearing midnight now, and the work had only just begun. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed the number from
memory.

Eamonn McDougal picked up on the first ring. ‘Is it done?’ he asked.

‘It’s done. We need to meet.’

‘Put my son on the phone.’

‘He’s not here.’

There was silence from the other end for a moment. ‘Where is he?’

Coale said, ‘I didn’t know you wanted me to babysit him for the rest of the evening.’

‘How did he handle it?’

‘He didn’t say much.’

‘What about Finn?’ McDougal spat out the lawyer’s name with contempt. ‘Did he beg?’

‘He said
please
.’

McDougal’s laugh was bitter and ugly. ‘Good. Bastard.’

‘Have you heard anything from the police?’

‘No word yet. They must have something, though. Those were my files. Why would Finn have kept my name out of it?’

‘He’s your lawyer.’

‘So? Lawyers have no honor.’ Coale could sense no intentional irony from McDougal.

‘We need to meet,’ Coale said again.

‘Tomorrow?’

‘No, it can’t wait. Tonight.’

‘Why?’

‘There were complications.’

McDougal’s voice turned harsh, accusing. ‘What kind of complications?’

‘Nothing I couldn’t handle. But you’ll want to know.’

‘My office. Half an hour.’

Coale closed the phone. Meeting at McDougal’s office in a half hour wouldn’t be a problem for him. He was already there. He’d been there for forty-five minutes. Eamonn McDougal
wasn’t stupid. His son had been, but Eamonn would be suspicious and careful. No one survived for as long as he had in his position without being careful. But Coale had survived for even
longer. He planned on outliving McDougal, even if only for a little while.

A light rain was coming down in the South End as an October storm that had hovered off shore all day took an unusual turn to the northwest, spiraling counter-clockwise and
ambushing the city from the north. Long was lying in Racine’s bed when they heard the patter of raindrops on the windowpanes. Racine got up and pulled the window shut, stood there for a
moment looking out toward the highway.

He rolled onto his side, watching her.

‘What?’ she asked without turning around.

‘Nothing,’ he said.

She turned. She was wearing a man’s button-down shirt, two buttons done at the center of her chest, nothing underneath. It wasn’t one of his. ‘Don’t give me
“nothing”,’ she said. ‘Tell me.’

‘Why am I here?’ he asked her.

‘Ask yourself. You just showed up; I didn’t invite you.’

He lay back on the bed. ‘Why would you let me in?’

‘Because I’m an idiot.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘I’m not?’

‘The department wants nothing to do with me,’ he said. ‘You know that. You’ve heard people talk.’

She nodded. ‘Yeah, I have.’

‘Then you know that they’ll take any excuse they can find to kick me off the force.’

‘Don’t give them any excuse.’

‘If I don’t give them one, they’ll make one up. You really want me tied around your neck when I go down?’ He looked at the shirt again, thought about the other guys she
could be with. ‘I’m just saying, if you want to be with a cop, then I’m probably the wrong pick. My badge has an expiration date on it.’

‘What do you mean, “If I want to be with a cop”? What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You think I’m dating the badge?’

‘It’s been known to happen,’ he said. ‘And you’ve dated other cops.’

‘Fuck you,’ she said. She reached down and picked up his pants, threw them at him. ‘Get dressed, and get out!’

He caught the pants, rolled to the side of the bed and pulled them on without saying a word.

‘I work with cops,’ she said, fuming. She picked up his shirt and threw that at him as well. ‘That’s who I spend most of my time around, so yeah, I’ve dated a
couple. If you have issues with that, that’s your problem.’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t have issues with it. I just don’t want you to get hurt.’

‘You’ve got a funny way of showing it.’

He pulled the shirt over his head. ‘Tomorrow the DNA test is gonna come back on Buchanan. If it proves that he’s Finn’s father, I’m gonna have to go after him. There are
a lot of people who aren’t gonna like that, and what little solid ground I’ve got left to stand on is gonna slip out from under me so fast I’ll be hip deep in the shit before I
know what’s happening.’

‘So?’ she said. ‘Why not just leave it alone, then? That’s what most guys in your position would do. Walk away and you could probably get through the rest of the crap in
the department.’

He felt the muscles in his jaw tighten. ‘I can’t do that,’ he said. It felt like he was losing her just by saying the words. It was probably for the best. Certainly it was the
best thing that could happen for her. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just not the way I’m made.’

She stepped forward, put a hand on his cheek. ‘That’s why I let you in,’ she said.

He put his head down. ‘I tried to save him.’ The words came out softly. ‘Jimmy. I tried, I did. I tried to get him straight, but it was no good. That last night, he was so
fucked up. He thought I was going to turn him in, and he panicked. He pulled his gun.’

He could feel her breathing. ‘You had no choice,’ she said.

‘That’s what I want to think, but I don’t know. It’s hard to listen when it’s just me saying it to myself. It sounds like a lie.’

She put a hand on his chin, lifted his head so she could look at him. ‘Listen to me, then. You had no choice. I know what happened now; it doesn’t matter what anyone else
says.’

He was looking into her eyes, his desire to protect her and his need to be with her locked in mortal combat. His cell phone rang. He reached into his pocket, held it up to his ear.
‘Long,’ he said. He listened for almost forty-five seconds, his eyes never leaving hers as she stood inches from him. ‘Where?’ he finally asked. Then he closed his phone,
put it back in his pocket.

‘Work?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘Kevin McDougal tried to kill Scott Finn and the girl.’

Racine sucked in her breath. ‘Are they alive?’

‘Yeah. Apparently he never even got a shot off. Someone shot him first.’

‘Who?’

‘Some guy who was with McDougal. Finn didn’t know who he was, hadn’t seen him before. Older guy, apparently. Dark clothes. Silver hair. Grey eyes.’

‘Your ghost.’

Long shrugged. ‘Maybe. If so, it looks like my ghost is very much alive.’

Coale was standing in the shadows across the street from McDougal’s office in Chelsea. Watching.

McDougal would be careful. Coale needed to know exactly how careful. This was the part of the job he’d excelled at his entire adult life. It was what set him apart. This time it was
different, though. This was the last time, and he wanted to go out on top.

The first man arrived at twenty after twelve. He was short and stocky, and he wore a dark hat to protect his head from the rain, which was falling steadily now. Sal Brancaccio. Coale recognized
him. He was one of McDougal’s best men, which meant that McDougal was taking this seriously. Sal looked around the place, then headed down to the far end of the building, took up a position
behind some crates stacked near the water. It was a good spot from which to watch the door. It was dark at that end of the building; dark enough that anyone who hadn’t seen him slide into
position would have had no idea he was there.

McDougal arrived five minutes later in his big Caddy. The car pulled into the parking lot, riding low, almost bottoming out on the lip. There were three men, big men judging by the stress on the
suspension. Two up front, McDougal in back.

The car rolled to a stop, blocking the front door. Two of the men got out – McDougal and the man in the passenger seat. The driver stayed put. McDougal leaned into the driver’s side
window briefly, giving some final instructions. Then he headed inside. Coale noticed him looking up at the camera mounted well above the door. The camera that had caught the lawyer.

Coale waited another ten minutes, making sure no one else was showing up. No one did. So there were three. Three of McDougal’s best, but three was still a small number. A manageable
number. Particularly because they thought they had the benefit of surprise. That would make them overconfident. Overconfidence was a leading cause of death in his profession. It was a malady
he’d avoided so far.

By the time Long got to Charlestown the rain was coming sideways. The wind was kicking the hell out of the city, tipping garbage cans and spilling their contents, swirling wet
leaves into the mix to clog the street drains and gutters until the place was covered in a dark wet smear. Pools of water gathered in the street at the bottom of Bunker Hill, outside the alley
where the attack had taken place. The alley itself was a river that would make decent forensics a near impossibility. A tent had been set up over the body, but it was pointless. Like trying to hold
back the tide with a shovel.

Finn and the girl were outside the alley, sitting on a bench under an awning halfway up the block. Three cops surrounded them, for their protection and to keep them from disappearing. No one in
the group was talking. There was no friendly banter, no threatening interrogation, only the silence of distrust.

Long walked up, shielding his face from the whipping rain until he was under the awning. ‘Mr Finn,’ he said.

The lawyer looked up, rolled his eyes. ‘Thank God you’re here.’

‘You two all right?’

Finn looked over at the girl. She looked back and nodded. She seemed less agitated than he did. Finn nodded up at Long. ‘We’re okay,’ he said. ‘No thanks to
you.’

‘He tried to kill you?’

‘Yeah, he tried to kill us.’

‘Ungrateful client,’ Long said. ‘What happened? He got the bill?’

‘This a joke to you?’

Long shook his head. ‘Just trying to lighten the mood.’

‘You want to lighten my mood? Tell me you’ve arrested James Buchanan. Short of that, my mood’s pretty much gonna suck.’

Long looked down at his feet. The awning was keeping his head dry, but the wind was sweeping the rain up to his knees, and his legs were soaked. He could see water seeping out of his shoes at
every shift of his weight. ‘You know the senator was involved?’

‘Of course he was involved,’ Finn said. ‘You think McDougal had his own son killed?’

Long shrugged. ‘Nothing surprises me anymore. Tell me about the second guy. The one who shot Kevin. Who was he?’

‘We didn’t exchange business cards.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘Tall,’ Finn said. ‘Gray hair, dark suit. Older.’

‘Anything else?’

The lawyer laughed bitterly. ‘That’s all I saw. I was focusing on his gun. You want a description of that? Because I could tell you anything you want to know.’

Long looked at the girl. ‘How about you, Miss? Did you see anything else?’

‘He had a scar,’ she said quietly. Finn turned to look at her. ‘On his forehead. It was shaped like a V.’

‘Really?’ Finn said.

‘You didn’t notice it?’ Long asked.

‘I didn’t notice it. The gun didn’t have a scar, I know that.’

‘Did he say anything?’ He was looking at the girl when he asked the question. He trusted her memory more than he trusted the lawyer’s.

She shook her head. ‘Not really. He just told us to go.’

‘Why?’

‘What?’ Finn asked. ‘You’d rather you had three bodies on your hands?’

Long shook his head. ‘Not really. But it would have made more sense.’

‘Thanks,’ Finn said.

‘Think about it. If this guy is who we think he is, he’s a pro. He’s also got no conscience. None whatsoever. He’s been killing for years, and he knows enough not to
leave witnesses. He’s never left any before. And yet here he is, shooting a guy in the head in front of two people, letting them get a good clean look at him, and then letting them walk away.
Why?’

Finn shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe he couldn’t bring himself to kill a kid.’

Long laughed. ‘Trust me, that ain’t it.’ No one spoke for a moment. The rain continued to batter the sidewalk. ‘He say anything else?’

Finn frowned, wiped the rain from his face. ‘He said he was the one who started this.’

Long gave this some thought. ‘Started what?’

‘He killed my mother,’ Finn said. ‘That’s what started it all.’

‘You sure?’

Finn nodded. ‘It makes sense.’