Zero at the Bone

by Jane Seville

  “That close, huh?”

  “They had the shit on me. All of it.”

  “Any thoughts on who put you up to this hit, if it wasn’t the brothers?”

  He sighed. “That is what’s really burnin’ my toast. I got no fuckin’ clue. But that’ll hafta wait ta puzzle out, ’cause I got other things ta think on now. I just gotta get Jack through this call to Churchill and then get us hell and gone.”

  “I’m glad you called in.”

  “I didn’t want this Churchill to go all SWAT on us and yank Jack away in the back a some government-issue Taurus where I cain’t protect him.”

  “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “You do care, don’t you?”

  D sighed. “More’n I should.” He hung up and sagged back against the tree. You wanna know if I care? Jus’ ask me how hard it was ta let Jack be mad at me, and sit there doin’ nothin’ while he yelled at me and turned his back, knowin’ it was best, wantin’ ta close that vault door, but also wantin’ ta throw it wide open and let everything out, ’cause he’s the first one ever made me think I could look inside there without goin’ crazy, and the first one I wanted ta know all of it. First person made me ever think I might wanta reclaim some a what I locked away… or think that I might even need, or deserve, ta have it back.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jack lay in bed, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the ceiling. He heard the door open and close as D went outside.

  Fine. Don’t want to talk about your really awful-sounding nightmares, that’s no skin off my nose. I don’t give a shit how you sleep.

  Which was a lie, of course. He cared, and he wanted to know. He wanted to know what was in D’s mind, what drove him, what scared him. He wanted to know it all.

  And why’s that, Jack? Why are you so interested? Do you want to know what’s wrong so you can fix it? Be the hero, heal the wounded man?

  Maybe. Was that so terrible? Was it so offensive that he might want to help?

  You just want him to let you in to his closed-off self, because he doesn’t let anybody in. If you get in, that means you must be special. You’re important. Important to a man who makes a point not to form attachments. And if there’s an attachment despite his nature, it must mean you’re even more awesome than you thought you were.

  Jack turned on his side, curling his hands under his cheek. Was that all this was? Some play for validation on his part?

  I just want to know if I mean something to him… the way he means something to me.

  Jack rolled onto his stomach and clutched a pillow over his head. Sure, no problem. Testify against some drug lords. All in a day’s work. Get a new name and get yourself relocated thousands of miles away. No sweat. Assassins coming after you? Check. Conscience-ridden hit men spiriting you away? Check. Hiding out in a remote cabin? Oh, got that one covered. Develop unseemly crush on ruthless hired killer?

  Jack sighed. I am one incurable illness away from a Lifetime Movie of the Week.

  D stood outside Jack’s bedroom door for a good five minutes, trying to figure out what to do. Knock? Yell? Barge right in? You fuckin’ asshole, you can plan an infiltration of a goddamned Federal Reserve branch but ya cain’t figure out how ta wake up yer… yer….

  What was Jack, anyway? His mark? His companion? His protectee? His friend? D’s vocabulary wasn’t up to that task.

  He knocked. “Jack?” No answer. “Jack!” He heard a vague mumbling from inside. “C’mon, get up! It’s almos’ nine, and ya gotta call that guy.”

  Jack made an incoherent, irritated-sounding noise. “Does it have to be right this very minute?” he said through the door.

  “Uh… guess not. Jus’ thought… ya know… ya might wanna get up.” ’Cause ya been in there since eight o’clock last night and yer freakin’ my shit out.

  He heard a thump, then footsteps, then Jack yanked the bedroom door open. “You just want me to get up because I’m freaking you out,” he said.

  D blinked. Shit, did I say that out loud? “What makes ya think that?”

  “You’re stammering and you sound freaked out.”

  “Oh.” D shuffled. “Well, now yer up, let’s have some breakfast.”

  “So you just got me up to cook for you, is that it?”

  “No! I’ll cook! What the fuck is yer problem, anyway?” He stomped off to the fridge and pulled out the milk.

  Jack went to the table and sat down. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. Guess I just went to sleep mad and woke up still mad.”

  D brought over the bowls and cereal. Hope this’ll do fer cookin’. “Mad about me ‘n’ my nightmares, ya mean.”

  “Well… yeah.” There seemed to be something else lurking behind Jack’s shuttered gaze, something he wasn’t letting past himself. D didn’t pry.

  “I jus’ cain’t share everythin’ with ya,” D said. “Ya jus’ keep pryin’ and nosin’ and I know ya mean well, but….” He sighed. “I kep’ things locked up my whole life and it ain’t so easy. Them hinges are rusted damned near shut.”

  “I know,” Jack said, his voice sounding gentler. “I shouldn’t push. You don’t owe me any kind of confessions or revelations. I’m just… concerned.”

  D poured the milk. “I ain’t exactly used ta havin’ nobody be concerned fer me.”

  “Well, get used to it.” D met his eyes and saw the smile there. He felt himself smile back. They ate cereal in silence for a few moments.

  Jack got up to refill his coffee and returned to the table, looking a little disgruntled. “I don’t want to call Churchill.”

  “Gotta.”

  Jack shook his head. “He is not going to believe that I somehow got away from a trained killer.”

  “Won’t have much choice.”

  “He’ll just think I’m making the whole thing up.”

  “So what? He cain’t prove ya are.”

  Jack was still shaking his head, like he was bound and determined to argue with every damned thing D said. “What if he tries to come and get me?”

  “How’s he gonna do that? With his magic X-ray vision? He cain’t track this phone. You could be anywhere in the lower forty-eight and I doubt he’s got some magic reindeer ta pull his sleigh. Will ya relax?”

  “Well, I’m sorry if the idea of talking to a man of some authority, who, I might add, has done nothing but try to protect me, and telling him a bunch of fairy stories and hoping he believes me is a little strange to me.”

  “You’ll be fine.” D handed him the phone. “No time like the present.”

  Jack took it, his eyes widening a little. “Now? Seriously?”

  “Get it over with.”

  He stared at the handset like it was a sleeping snake that might wake up and bite him at any time. He stood up. “I’ll go outside.”

  “What, ya don’t want me ta hear?” The idea of not listening in was vaguely upsetting, although D knew he had no right to eavesdrop.

  “Just… want some privacy,” Jack muttered, and then headed outside to the patio. D sat and watched him go, then returned to his cereal with a sigh.

  ~~~~~

  Jack dialed the number from memory, his mind racing with all the things he’d have to say and not say, mention and not mention, reveal and hide. “Witsec, Churchill.”

  “Uh… yeah, it’s Jack Francisco.”

  “Jack? Jack? Are you kidding me?” Churchill sounded like he was on his feet and running somewhere already.

  “No, it’s me.”

  “Where the hell are you? I have been looking for you for a week!”

  “I know… I’m sorry. I’m okay.”

  “What the hell happened? Why’d you leave?”

  “Why’d you have a tracking device on my car?” Jack snapped. Jesus, where’d that come from? he thought.

  There was silence for a moment. “It’s just a precaution, Jack. I figured you must have found it when we lost the signal. Why did you leave Vegas? You were safe there!”

&nbs
p; “Safe, right. So safe that some hit man showed up at my house to kill me.”

  Silence again. “That isn’t funny.”

  “No, I didn’t think so, either.”

  “Are you serious? Someone came for you?”

  “Came home and found him sitting there in my living room with a gun.”

  “Fuck. How’d he find you?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know, seeing as you and your agency were the only ones who knew where I was.”

  “No one here gave you up, Jack. I hope you know that.”

  “I’d like to believe it.”

  “You could have been spotted on the street, just a random happenstance.”

  Whatever. “It doesn’t matter how he found me, just that he did.”

  “How’d you get away?”

  “Threw a vase at his head and ran.”

  “Jack… we didn’t find any broken vase in your house. There was no sign of any struggle there.”

  Shit. Jack thought fast. “The vase didn’t break. One of those heavy pottery pieces. He probably took it with him when he left so his blood wouldn’t be found in the house.” Does that make sense? Sounds good to me. Too late now.

  Churchill sighed. “Well, that makes some kind of sense. And… you just ran? How’d you find the tracker?”

  “I thought someone was following me. I didn’t know who it was, so I lost them and pulled over and searched the car.”

  “Where are you now?”

  Jack sighed. “I’m not comfortable sharing that information.”

  “Let me bring you back in. We’ll relocate you.”

  “I tried it your way once and it didn’t work out. I’ll take care of myself. I don’t feel safe with anyone knowing my whereabouts.”

  “I can’t allow you to stay out there on your own, Jack.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” Silence. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Look… I am absolutely going to testify. Okay?”

  “I don’t mind telling you, the prosecutor’s on the phone to me six times a day. He’s about ready to have an aneurysm.”

  “Tell him I will be there. I will check in with you twice a week, you can keep me updated on when I’m supposed to appear, and I will get myself there. Until then… I’m just going to lay low and hide out.”

  “I don’t like this, Jack.”

  “You think I like it? This is not what I signed up for, but I’m going to have to live with it until the trial.”

  “I think you’ve got someone helping you.”

  “I’m on my own, and it’s going to stay that way.”

  “You’re talking like a professional. You’re a surgeon, not some kind of operative. Who’s helping you?”

  “No one, and that’s just how I like it. Now, are we okay? We understand each other?”

  “What’s happened to you? You were such a babe in the woods when I put you in Vegas.”

  “Well, you grow up fast when hired killers come after you.” And when you live with one for a week.

  “I didn’t want this for you, Jack.”

  “I know. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up before Churchill could get another word out.

  Jack stood and looked out across the backyard for a moment, going back over the conversation he’d just had. He didn’t like lying to Churchill, but he didn’t have much choice. He turned and went back into the house. D was still at the kitchen table, staring at a bowl of soggy cereal.

  “Well, it’s done,” he said.

  D looked up, his gaze guarded. “What’d he say?”

  “About what you expected. Didn’t like it, didn’t have a choice, thought I was getting help. He seemed to buy it, though.”

  “Good.” D turned back to his cereal, twirling his spoon in the sodden mess.

  Jack nodded, tapping the phone against his leg. “That’s all you have to say? ‘Good?’ I just lied to a government official, D. That’s got to be some kind of violation of something. Witsec has promised to help me and I just told them a bald-faced lie to help protect the man who came to kill me.”

  D stood up slowly and turned to face him. “Wasn’t on my behalf ya done that, doc. Was on yer own. You ain’t protectin’ me none.”

  Jack shook his head and tossed the phone to the sofa. “I can’t believe any of this is real. Fuck me. What the hell am I thinking? I ought to tell Churchill exactly where I am and ask him how fast he can get here!”

  “If that’s what ya want I won’t stop ya.”

  “You’d just let me tell him everything? You’d stand there and do nothing while I gave him the whole damned story?”

  “Nope. I’d be gone. You can tell him whatever ya want, but I sure as hell cain’t stick around ta meet him. So I guess all ya gotta decide is whether ya think yer better off with me or Witsec. I’m jus’ tryin’ ta protect you, Jack. I think I can do it better’n they can. You don’t agree, then go ta them with my blessins and best wishes for yer safety.”

  “You’d let me turn myself over to them? Just like that?”

  “Jus’ like that.” D narrowed his eyes and peered at him. “Sounds like that troubles ya some. Ya think I’d wanna fight ta keep ya, is that it? That I’d feel some remorse or regret on seein’ the back a you? You ain’t wrong. This is a hard business, Jack, with no room fer friends or fond feelins. Ya gotta do what’s practical, and what’s immediate, and what’ll keep ya from getting killed or arrested or both. Havin’ a friend’s the quickest way to a knife in the back.”

  Jack looked at D’s face, his hardened and weathered face, and wondered just how much he was speaking from personal experience. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said.

  D shrugged. “It’s a hard fuckin’ fact a life. It is what it is.”

  He got up again and went to the window, keeping his eyes averted. “Well… whether there’s room for it or not… I’m your friend, D.”

  He heard D sigh. “I wish I could say I was yours, Jack.” He heard footsteps, and then the back door opening and closing again.

  ~~~~~

  D sat on what he’d started to consider “his” bench for hours. The sun climbed overhead, then started its slow descent across the sky. He stared at ants trundling by on the patio, wondering what he was waiting for. Was he hoping Jack would come outside and make him talk about it? Ask him to come back in? Was he waiting to see how long it would take?

  The cell phone, the one Jack had used to call Churchill, was in his pocket. He’d swiped it off the couch while Jack’s back was turned, and it felt heavy with expectations. The call he was putting off making would get no easier with time. Finally, he got up and walked a short distance into the trees, and redialed the last outgoing number.

  It only rang once before it was picked up. “Witsec, Churchill.”

  “This is D.”

  He heard the other man settle in, clear his throat, take a breath. “Been expecting your call.”

  “We understand each other?”

  “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t come find you and put you down like a dog.”

  “I’ll give ya two. Ya cain’t, and ya shouldn’t.”

  “You accepted a contract on Jack Francisco’s life.”

  “A contract I didn’t carry out.”

  “I’m supposed to trust you because you had some last-minute attack of conscience?”

  D counted to five before answering, his voice tight and controlled. “The Bureau talk ta you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then ya know just how long my attack a conscience’s been goin’ on.”

  “I don’t give a shit what you’ve done for the Bureau. My concern is Francisco.”

  “That’s my concern too.”

  “But it’s not your only concern.”

  D sighed. “No. I got somethin’ of a situation myself. Someone blackmailed me inta takin’ that hit on him, and now they’re in a state. Dodged a couple of ’em on the road ta Stockton. Figure they found us by piggybackin’ on yer very own tracker, s
o don’t ya go getting on yer high horse when yer little lodestone almost got the both of us killed.”

  “That gas station that went up?”

  “Yeah. What’d you find there?”

  “Nothing. Car rented under a false name, two bodies without ID, you know the drill.”

  “Well enough ta sing along.”

  “So these persons unknown are on your trail.”

  “That’s in addition to the brothers, who are still gonna be looking fer Jack even if they don’t know nothin’ ’bout what’s happening with me. You hear who they got in fer help on this?”

  “Petros, I heard.”

  “Yeah. Look, I know ya mean well, but I am tellin’ ya that you cain’t protect Jack like I can.”

  “I can’t leave one of my witnesses in the hands of a mercenary.”

  “You call me whatcha want, but I know these people and you don’t.”

  Churchill sighed. “Look, D… whatever your name really is… Jack Francisco is a good man. He’s a rarity in my business: a truly innocent bystander. Most of our witnesses are insiders turned state’s evidence, so I end up protecting the lives of people who have a long list of crimes of their own to atone for. Francisco is different.”

  “You don’t gotta tell me about Jack.” I probly know him a helluva lot better’n you do, you Witsec son of a bitch. “I know what kinda man he is, and what he saw and what he’s gonna do about it. So you better believe me when I tell ya that anyone comin’ fer him is gonna hafta go through me, and if they get him ya better know that it means I’m lyin’ dead in front a him, you hear me? Sittin’ in yer nice safe office wherever ya are and tryin’ ta call the shots? I am here in the shit with him with a three-point-five-million-dollar price on my head fer my trouble and listenin’ ta you bitch ‘n’ moan about how yer sposed ta trust me. I don’t give a fuck. You jus’ gotta give me the room I need ta do what I gotta do ta keep him ‘n’ me breathin’ long enough fer him ta get ta that witness stand. After that, you can take over and make him inta someone new ‘n’ my job be over. You got that?”

  There was a long silence. “Yeah, I got it. I just have one favor to ask.”