Vengeance (13 page)

“Because I knew you’re Liam’s kid this time and I didn’t fight.”

“Sure felt like a fight.”

“That was a struggle. Not a fight,” he said. “But play time’s over. Leave this up to the professionals.”

“The police? Their report explains how my brother died. How. When. Where. They don’t care about why.”

“So you want answers. I get that. You’re grieving. You want things to make sense. Closure. But what if you find more than you bargained for?”

“I’d rather there was nothing more to it than an accident. That’s hard enough. All these people who should be telling a hundred stories about his life only want to talk about how he died, I have to set things straight.”

Our conversation had diverged to where the bindings seemed out of place. But they had virtually dissolved in the air between us. Rook somehow appeared to be reclining, relaxing, as if he were not lashed to a wooden captain’s chair.

“Tell me about your brother,” he said. The scene would have been complete with a fire in a hearth and if Rook had been smoking a pipe and crossed one slipper-capped leg over the other.

“You want me to tell you a story?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure that was any more absurd than anything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

“Isn’t that why you’re doing this? To ensure Aiden is remembered the right way?”

I was starting to see that a gorilla’s physique might not be Rook’s most commanding feature. Locating the appropriate memory was like sifting through a flooded toy chest to find a single action figure. A smile spread across my face when I uncovered the right one. “When I was five and Aiden was seven,” I started, “we lived down on the southeast side. Bad place for kids. My dad had given Aiden a basketball for his birthday. So we headed to the schoolyard. We weren’t going to be able to hit the rim, but we didn’t care. We just wanted to play on the court. So we were having fun until these older kids tried to kick us out. Aiden told them we were there first and they would have to wait their turn. So they took our ball and kicked it over the fence, out into the street. They figured that would get rid of us.

“But Aiden wasn’t budging. He
ordered
those kids to get the ball. And these kids were twelve or fourteen. They just laughed. When they could tell he was standing his ground, they both came at me. They picked me up by my legs and arms and said they were going to throw me over the fence head first. I was screaming and kicking, but they were on their way to the fence with me. So Aiden charged them and punched the bigger one right in the nuts so hard he dropped me and doubled up on the ground. I fell against the other kid’s legs before I hit the blacktop. He stumbled back and Aiden was already rushing him, jumping up and pounding the kid’s face. Blood gushed down his shirt and that punk was crying so much even I was embarrassed.

“I could tell you stories all night about times he stood up for friends—
fought
for friends—against worse odds than that. He didn’t always win, but he always stood his ground. If my brother liked you, you had a guardian angel. Aiden was loyal to a fault. He wasn’t some stone cold badass like you. He wasn’t ten feet tall and bulletproof. He was all too human, I guess.”

When the story was done, I glowed with satisfaction in the portrayal of Aiden. I wondered whether I could be content if one person preserved Aiden according to my memory. Shouldn’t it be enough?

“You need to hold onto that,” Rook said. “Your memory. The way it makes you feel. This road you’re heading down, it won’t give you any more satisfaction than that.”

What he was saying wasn’t lost on me. But how do you convince someone the cake they’re hungry for is bitter until they take a bite to find out for themselves?

I sidled between the furniture and knelt down behind Rook.

“You're seriously going to untie me? Am I not getting through to you at all? You tie someone like me up to a chair? That’s only going to keep you safe until I’m free.”

“I can't leave you like this. If your men find you tied up in your own bar, you’ll have no choice but to come after me. I wouldn’t make it to lunchtime.”

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed in assent as I started working on one of the knots. “You’re a quick study.”

“But if no one else finds out about this you can choose to be understanding.”

“Hilarious. Don’t expect people like me to be understanding.”

“That’s what I thought,” I said. “I'm going to release your left hand in a second. When I do, reach up to your neck.”

His eyes widened. Even before his hand was free of the ropes, he started tugging, trying to reach to his neck. When he felt and discovered the necklace missing, he growled, “You little mother fucker!”

I took a wide berth and circled in front of him.

“Where the fuck is my locket?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“Your dad told you to take it for insurance? He thinks I won’t drop you and search your car?”

“You won’t find it.”

“The hell I—”

“I had a friend drive by and take it off my hands. When all this is over and I’m somewhere safe I'll have it returned to you.”

He shook his head a few times, looked up at the ceiling.

“Well played,” he exhaled long and deep, as if evacuating all the fuel from his rage. “Now get these fucking ropes off me.”

“I don’t think so. I’m barely getting over the headache from last night. You can get out of the rest of those ropes by yourself.”

His shoulders shifted and squirmed as he worked the bindings. I should have made a run for the side-door, but one more question came to mind.

“Why’d you call my dad last night?”

“Well, you’re sure not a hit-man,” he said, not looking up or slacking in his Houdini imitation. “You didn’t have I.D. on you, but no one would lie about being Liam’s kid.”

“And you owe my dad?”

“You know something about that?” he asked, breaking his concentration to make eye contact.

“I was hoping you could fill me in.”

“If he hasn’t told you, it’s not my place.”

He resumed wriggling free and I knew it was time to put some distance between his hands and my throat. I heard him chuckle at my hasty departure. His voice tunneled down the hallway after me, “Just because I won’t kill you doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you!”

Chapter 14

“Now what?”

That single thought resonated in my head as I drove back to the motel. I left the headlights on after turning the engine off because I was puzzled by what looked like a slip of paper wedged into my door. It could have been a Chinese take-out menu for all I knew, but it fluttered there silently and ominously. I needed a shower because I stunk from nervous sweat and I needed to relax and a long shower was the only available option, so I killed the lights and got out. The paper seemed less portentous without the stark light. I snatched it from the frame and unfolded it. Even angling it to catch the nearest light, the pencil writing barely contrasted the paper. It wasn’t until I let myself into the room and switched on the lamp that I could read it.
Call
me
,
Paige
, it said, with her number above the words.

I locked the door and slumped into the chair in the corner between the window and the head of the bed. The phone was on the nightstand next to me. I held the note open between my thumb and forefinger with my hand resting on my thigh. It was too late to call her. Not that I was eager to talk to her again, anyway. But I did feel the need to talk to someone. Even in Arizona it was too late. Natalie would understand if I woke her up, but I couldn’t depend on her charity forever. Even though she was there for me through Aiden’s passing, I knew we were growing apart, no matter how much we professed we’d stay close. It was natural, but especially difficult coming at that dark time.

The curtains began to glow as I heard the crunch of sand and pebbles under a car’s tires. Someone was pulling in directly in front of my window. My heart leapt at the thought that Rook might have followed me or that he already knew where to find me. My first thought was to pull the curtains apart enough to see who it was. It might have been Paige, for all I knew. But if I was wrong I could have been making a target of myself. As it was, I was glad the headlights had to be washing out any shadow my lamp was casting of my form onto the curtains. I rushed to the peephole just as the engine stopped. The dark parking lot and fisheye view colluded to make it impossible to recognize the driver through the windshield, but I was confident I recognized the car. Casey stepped out and approached my door, proving me right. I waited a few seconds after he knocked before answering so he wouldn’t know I had been behind the door the whole time.

“What’s up?” I asked, not having to work hard to appear surprised at his visit.

“Just checking in. You lived through it, I see.”

He followed me in, closing the door. I stood with my hands in my pockets between the foot of the bed and the dresser with the TV on it. Casey stayed close to the door, putting his hand on the back of the chair.

“Yeah. Just got here. Good timing.”

“It isn’t luck. I dropped by earlier and gave the desk clerk twenty bucks to call me when you got back.”

“Didn’t know you cared.”

“I only cared about five dollars’ worth, but it takes twenty to get anyone to do anything.” He grinned and I forced out a laugh for his benefit. “You mind?” he asked, pulling the chair out. I waved him to sit as I stepped between him and the bed to get to the chair in the corner.

“You’re all right?” he asked.

“Just this,” I said, pulling my left hand out and extending the back of it to show the torn-up skin. It stung from being raw, but it didn’t look nearly as bad as I had imagined during the scuffle. Tattered skin dangled at the edges of wounds the size of cigarette burns. The skin between was a mottled blue from bruising. But aside from various sized freckles of dried blood, that was the extent of the damage.

“What’d you do? Backhand him until he talked?”

“It’s from the gravel,” I said.

“Shit. The TASER and chloroform didn’t work?”

“It took a while. I’d say he didn’t go down easy, but I guess it was about as easy as I could hope for.”

“Did he tell you anything?”

Headlights dashed across the curtains accompanied by the sandpaper swipe of tires stopping abruptly in the parking lot. I waited for the sound of car doors. But a few seconds later, a brief burst of friction as the tires spun again was followed by the growl of the engine as the phantom car returned in the direction it had come from.

“No,” I said, conscious of the duration of my pause. My ears were still perked as I strained to confirm the car wasn’t coming back. I thought I could distinguish its sound as it accelerated up the on-ramp. It was probably someone stopping to check their directions.

“You freaking out?”

“No,” I said. “A little. Hell, Paige knows I’m here,” I said, flicking my index finger toward the note I had discarded in the center of the table. “You know I’m here. Rook knows my rental car. Practically every motel in town is within a few blocks of here. It wouldn’t take a half hour to find me by cruising around and checking for my car.”

“How far in advance have you paid for this place and the car?”

“Just for tonight. I was supposed to head home tomorrow. It might be too late to change my flight. I still don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know if there’s anything left to do. Rook didn’t give me anything,” I said. “I mean, it’s fucking crazy. I’m literally risking my life to find out if there’s any truth to this... conspiracy theory.”

“All right,” Casey said as he stood. “First things first. Grab your stuff. We’ll drop off your car and I’ll take you somewhere you can get some sleep. I’ll get a different car for you by morning.”

I hesitated. “I’m not staying at my dad’s house.”

“I know a place. You can have it as long as you’re here. Rent free.”

“And the car?” I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I also wanted to be sure I wasn’t driving around in a stolen car.

“I know a guy who owns a used car lot. He always drives something from the lot. You can use his car, or he’ll slap some plates on something for you. Not a big deal.”

The math was pretty simple. My credit card was near its limit with the flight and other expenses already. And I wasn’t going to be able to sleep at the motel. Casey waited outside while I packed, which took about one minute. Everything I wasn’t wearing was in my suitcase, except for my suit, which was hanging in its travel bag. I plucked my toothbrush and other items from the counter around the sink.

Casey followed me to the rental car location at the airport, where I transferred my bags to his trunk and dropped my keys through the night return slot. The airport didn’t see much traffic at three in the morning.

We drove back toward the river, stopping before crossing the bridge to downtown. The street that ran parallel to the river housed a bank and some long-established local businesses. But we were on a perpendicular street a block back, on the fringe of the old business district. We parked in front of a stone building without signage whose glass and steel front door was recessed between symmetrical front display windows. The windows loomed dark and vacant, framed by ornate architecture. The place had probably housed an esteemed engineering firm or something of similar caliber in its youth. As Casey searched through his keys to let us in, I scanned the street.

The building next door held two bail bonds offices, one next to and one above a first-floor pawn shop. The pawn shop had a doppelganger directly across the street, behind the bank. Up the block away from the river there were a few more vacant buildings before a gentleman’s club, according to its small, unlit sign, and a corner bar. After that, the brick and concrete buildings gave way to a half-block of vacant lots then rows of houses whose disrepair was obvious a block away at night. Kicked-out porch spindles. A window screen torn and hanging from the bottom edge of its frame. Patches of roof stripped of shingles.

I could recall how the river stench would dwell on those streets on a still summer day. Cold and ice kept it in check in the winter, leaving breezes to sweep the smells of cereal plants and slaughterhouses. An atmosphere I had breathed as native air as a child. Now every nuance pricked at my attention.

Inside we climbed a central stairway to the second floor, where a landing wrapped around the railing on either side and four doors led to the four corners of the place. Casey pushed open the door to the left of the stairs. It sagged on its hinges, dragging the carpet. He stayed on the landing and gestured for me to enter. There was enough ambient light coming in that I didn’t bother feeling for a light switch. I could make out the shape of a sofa along the same wall as the door and dropped my bags alongside it. Casey was working a key off a ring.

“Here,” he said. “This opens the door downstairs and the deadbolt here.”

“Thanks.”

“It ain’t much, but it’s free and you’re safe here,” he said. “Sleep on your decision about staying longer. I’ll have a car out front for you by morning. When you’re up, let me know and we’ll grab some breakfast.”

I secured the deadbolt behind Casey and listened to his hard sole shoes echo down the stone stairs. I didn’t bother taking a tour. I stretched out on the sofa and closed my eyes. The last thing I heard in the dark was Casey locking the front doors as he left.