Pain Management (36 page)

In Portland, anyway.

I watched the mother’s Mercedes sedan pull out at seven-twenty. Good enough. I made my move through the backyards, quick and flitty, now that it was light. Found the Subaru where I’d left it, got in. I made a couple of quick passes before I pulled up just past the driveway and reversed my way into the garage.

He was standing in the open door, one hand on the jamb. I couldn’t see that close, but I knew his knuckles would be white.

I got out just as he sent the garage door down. I went behind the Subaru and came toward him.

“Where’s—?”

“I’ve got what you really want,” I told him, holding up the leather-bound notebook Rosebud had given me.

He went into shock. More than enough time for me to get the Browning pointed at him. That worked better than smelling salts.

“No!” he shouted. “I can—”

“Keep your voice down,” I said. “This is just in case you’ve got any friends with you.”

“I
told
you. I’m alone.”

“Let’s go into your office.”

He turned and started up the stairs, glancing back over his shoulder. Not at the pistol, at the notebook. I could have walked him through the house at gunpoint, made sure he really was alone. But the risk was too great that I’d get jumped from behind if I did that. I’d rather keep the high ground, let them come through Kevin if they wanted me.

“Sit down,” I told him, pointing to a chair with its back to one side of the door. I took a seat, too, facing the opening.

“Look, whatever you—”

“I’ll tell you what I want. And it’ll be very simple for you, Kevin. A man like you, you already made all your choices. A long time ago.”

He looked down at the floor. “How did you . . . ?”

“You weren’t careful about the money, Kevin. You figured you were working for Uncle Sam, who was going to bother you about unreported income, right?”

“They said—”

“They’ll say anything, Kevin. You should know that, better than most.”

“But they promised—”

“Sure. Your daughter went missing. And not for any of the usual reasons. You wanted her back. Bad. You wouldn’t have come to a man like me if you much cared how it got done, either. But I misjudged you, Kevin. I thought it was all about . . . something else.”

“I don’t—”

“I thought you’d been fucking your own daughter, Kevin. And that Daisy was next.”

He didn’t get angry. “I’d never do that,” he said, his voice as hollow as his eyes. “I love Buddy. She knows I love her. I never really had a . . . friend. That’s why . . . I mean, she
was
my buddy. I would
never
violate her. She knows that.”

“You violated her trust. You raised her in your image, not in your truth. So your own daughter thinks you’re a traitor.”

“No! I’m not. I had no—”

“You had choices, Kevin. You were in the underground. I don’t know what went on back then, but I’m guessing you did something pretty heavy. And that the G-men popped you for it.”

“I was with the—”

“I don’t care,” I told him, truthfully. “Maybe you set a bomb to make a statement and it made jelly out of some janitor. Maybe you stood watch outside a bank while a cop got gunned down. Maybe you smuggled a pistol into a prison and people got killed. Maybe . . . What difference does it make? They popped you, and you rolled over on your—what is it that you called them then?—comrades? What’s the big deal, anyway? Pretty standard for you people. Didn’t Timothy Leary turn in the same people who busted him out of prison?”

“It was a long time ago. You don’t understand. That was before Buddy was even—”

“A long time ago, sure. And you were scared. I can understand that. You weren’t raised to be a criminal. Turning informant, I’ll bet they even convinced you it was the right thing to do.”

“It
was.
”

“Yeah. I know. Only, after a while, you got to like it, didn’t you?”

“No!”

“Sure you did, Kevin. You’ve been ‘underground’ for almost thirty years. Your old network, they can count on you. And you could count on them to spread the word. You were smooth, I give you that. At first, I thought I could just match up the money with the news of one of them getting arrested all out of the blue. You know, one of them that had been underground themselves for all these years. Married. Kids, job, community. A new life. And then it all explodes. Or, sometimes, for no obvious reason, they just ‘decide’ to come in out of the cold. As if they didn’t know the feds were breathing down their necks. But your checkbook didn’t prove that one out.

“That’s when I snapped to it. You’re weren’t getting rewards for ratting out your old friends, Kevin. You probably fingered all of
them
a long time ago. No, you were on the payroll. Bringing in new clients all the time. Word-of-mouth is the best advertising of all. That’s why all the left-wing stuff; that’s why you keep up the image. All camouflage. You would have been fine, except that your daughter, she
believed
it all. She bought your line. Because she loved you. Her daddy could do no wrong.”

“Why are you—?”

“You got what you raised, you pathetic motherfucker. A beautiful, intelligent, caring young woman. All she wants to do is change the world, make it a better place. The way her daddy took such risks to do. You told her all your old war stories, didn’t you?”

“I . . .”

“Yeah. Well, you did a good job. Such a good job that, when she found out what you were doing, you know what she did?”

“What?” he said, voice breaking.

“She went to an expert in Multiple Personality Disorder. A
real
expert, you understand. Someone who’d been there herself. Because, the way that pure-hearted daughter of yours had it figured, her father could never be a traitor. It
had
to be that you were a multiple. Like an evil twin, you know?”

“Maybe I . . . I mean, part of me always—”

“Save it. Christ, you’re a slimy maggot, aren’t you? Right to the end.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Me? Nothing. It’s what
you’re
going to do, Kevin.”

“I don’t under—”

“Shut up. I’ll tell you when to talk. How much of this does your wife know?”

“Mo was . . . there with us. At the beginning.”

“Yeah. That’s the way it scanned to me, too. Good. Makes it easier. What you’re going to do is this, Kevin: you’re going to sign some papers that make Rosebud an emancipated minor.”

“A . . . what?”

“And some more papers,” I went on, “that give custody of Daisy to Dr. Dryslan and his wife.”

“Daisy?! What are you—?”

“It won’t matter to you, Kevin. You’re never going to see either of them again. Because I’m going to give you something you never gave the poor bastards who trusted you all these years. A head start.”

“Please. Can’t you under—?”

“Kevin, it
all
happens. And right now. You’re going to sign these papers,” I said, taking them out of my inside pocket. “They’re all back-dated. Notarized. And tonight, while you’re packing, you can tell your wife she signed them, too. Forging
her
signature wasn’t much work,” I said. Thinking, even as I spoke, about how much I had counted on Gem for all this.

“Packing . . . ?”

“You can take all your money. Even your car, if you’re fool enough. But not the house—you’re signing that over to Rosebud, so she can sell it and have enough to take care of Daisy until they’re both out of school. You can tell your handlers that now it’s time to see if the Witness Protection Program
really
works. Or you can try the underground for real; it’s up to you. And, Kevin . . .”

“I’ve still got friends in the—” he muttered.

“They were never your friends,” I cut him off. “You think, because they were willing to put a couple of men in the street looking for your daughter, they were
with
you? Don’t make it worse. You send your tame G-men after me, somebody may get dead. Might be them. Might be me. But you do that, no matter how it comes out, you are for damn sure dead. Play it wrong now, and every single man, woman, and child you’ve fucked with your games all these years will know the truth. It’s all ready to go. Newspaper ads, the Internet, fax chains, word-of-mouth . . . everything. You’ll be hunted down the same way they were . . . only the hunters won’t be carrying badges. You wouldn’t even be safe in prison.

“But do it right, you can just disappear. People will wonder, but so what? Besides, your wife will want it this way. You’ll still have a nice, luxurious life.”

“You don’t know her. You can’t judge—”

“If you’re still here tomorrow night, Kevin, it won’t be me doing the judging.”

“Can you tell Buddy . . . ?”

“What?” I asked him, despite myself.

“Tell her I always loved her,” he said, sobbing, trying to manage his own pain the same way he’d manufactured it. “Tell her I understand what she did. Tell her I’m proud of her. Tell her to take care of Daisy. Tell her she did the right thing.”

“She still loves you, Kevin. She’d rather you were on the run than dead.”

“I’m . . .”

“Kevin, listen good. Me, I don’t care if you live or die. I think you know that. But I know a checkout promise when I hear one. Don’t do it. If you go to ground—and you sure know how to do
that
—you’ll still be able to see Buddy. Not a visit, but you can . . . watch from afar, you understand? Watch over your kid. You do that, I promise I’ll tell her what you said. Fair enough?”

“Yes,” he said, sniffling.

“Here’s your blood diary,” I said, tossing it at him. “And, yeah, I’ve got a few copies. You keep your deal, and no one will ever see them. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Kevin, this is simple. Yes or no. Live or die. Tomorrow night, you be fucking
gone.
”

It took four days for me to make sure Kevin had done it all. That he was really gone for good.

Twenty-four hours after that, so was I.

A NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Andrew Vachss has been a federal investigator in sexually transmitted diseases, a social services caseworker, and director of a maximum-security prison for youthful offenders. Now a lawyer in private practice, he represents children and youths exclusively. He is the author of numerous novels, including the Burke series, two collections of short stories, and a wide variety of other material, including song lyrics, poetry, graphic novels, and a “children’s book for adults.” His books have been translated into twenty languages, and his work has appeared in
Parade, Antaeus, Esquire,
the
New York Times,
and numerous other forums. He lives and works in New York City and the Pacific Northwest.

The dedicated Web site for Andrew Vachss and his work is
www.vachss.com
.

Also by Andrew Vachss

Flood

Strega

Blue Belle

Hard Candy

Blossom

Sacrifice

Shella

Down in the Zero

Born Bad

Footsteps of the Hawk

False Allegations

Safe House

Choice of Evil

Everybody Pays

Dead and Gone

ABOUT THE IMPRINT

ABOUT THIS TITLE

THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK
PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF

Copyright © 2001 by Andrew Vachss

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Distributed by Random House, Inc., New York.

www.aaknopf.com

Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Vachss, Andrew H.

Pain management / Andrew Vachss.—1st ed.

p. cm.

1. Burke (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Private investigators—Oregon—Portland—Fiction. 3. Pain—Treatment—Fiction. 4. Missing children—Fiction.
5. Portland (Or.)—Fiction. 6. Drug traffic—Fiction.
I. Title.

PS3572.A33 P35 2001

813′.54—dc21 2001029868

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

eISBN: 978-0-375-41422-0

v3.0