by Jeff Shelby
“And that's all you needed to find me?”
“I talked with your wife,” I said. “She showed me the camping books in your office and I saw the same places marked off. We discovered your camping gear was gone. And that it had been used. I put a few things together. And Carina told me you two were involved.”
He ran a hand over his bald head. “Shit.”
“Pretty much,” I said. “And your wife knows so she actually doesn't want you back now.” His jaw clenched and I stared at him. “So you remember me? We're clear on that, correct?”
His gaze shifted so he was looking at me. “Yeah. We hired you to find my son. You didn't do it.”
“Right. Because he was already dead. And you knew it.”
He started to say something, then swallowed the words.
“Anchor told me the story,” I said. “I started putting it together on my own, but he filled in the details. Why did you hire me to look for Aaron when you already knew he was dead?”
“I was hoping you could bring him back from the dead,” he muttered.
I took a step toward him and he shrank back, pressing himself into the car. “I'm asking for an answer.”
“I don't have to give you anything.” His tone was defiant but the expression in his eyes told another story.
I refocused the gun on his head. “No, but it might buy you a few more minutes.”
He stared at me for a moment, finally realizing that I wasn't just there to collect him. He swallowed a couple of times, looking around, like he might find some place to go. But there was nowhere to run because we were in the middle of nowhere.
“I couldn't tell Kathleen,” he finally said. “About Aaron. I didn't know how. I knew there was nothing we could do because of who I was working for, but she had no idea. She would've wanted to call the police and we couldn't do that.” He glanced at me. “If you're working for Anchor, you must know that.”
I stayed quiet and he continued.
“So I couldn't tell her,” he said. “And if I wanted to live, I had to keep my mouth shut. If I'd done anything, he would've killed me. I didn't have a choice. When Kathleen said she'd found the name of an investigator, I figured it would make Anchor think I was going to keep my mouth shut and there was no way that Kathleen would think I knew anything about what had happened.”
“Why'd you take the money?” I asked. “The first time.”
“Because I was stupid,” he said. He let out a harsh laugh. “Because I thought I was smarter than everyone else. Because I thought if I started taking a little bit at a time and putting it away, I could get out of there sooner.” He shook his head. “Just dumb. I should've known they'd see it.” Tears filled his eyes. “I just didn't know what the payback would be.”
I let the gun fall to my side.
He wiped at his eyes. “I thought we could just go on, but it was impossible. Every single day, I felt guilty. And felt like a coward. I've hated Anchor ever since. And...and Kathleen and I just grew apart, no matter how hard I tried to keep us together. Everything just disintegrated. And it was just one more thing I was losing.” He wiped angrily at his eyes. “And then I just screwed it up even more with Carina.”
“How so?”
“Because I knew what she was,” he said, frowning. “I knew it was stupid. But I was lonely and I just needed an escape. She was convenient. And willing. And I...I just told her too much.”
I shifted my weight, my feet crunching against the sand and gravel. “Told her too much about what?”
Maybe it was because the gun was lowered and he didn't see me as a threat at the moment. Or maybe it was simply because he was tired of keeping everything bottled up inside. I was an unlikely person for him to choose to talk to but, after six years of locking everything away, he was like a damn burst wide open.
“Everything,” he admitted. “But mainly about Aaron. We were together one weekend and I was just feeling...all of it. The secrets, the pressure, everything. So I told her what happened. She held my hand and she cried with me. Sobbed. Lying bitch.”
“It's hard to keep secrets,” I said. I thought about Bazer and Farvar; I was only a couple months in on most of mine.
He kept talking as if he hadn't heard me. “But I was getting tired of the mess, you know? I wanted my old life back. Not the one with Aaron – I knew that was gone for good – but I wanted Kathleen. I wanted to give it a go. Try one more time. I told Carina I needed a break. Which was what she'd been waiting for.”
“What do you mean?”
He took a deep breath, exhaled. “As soon as I brought it up, ending things, she asked for money. To keep her mouth shut. Otherwise, she was gonna go to Kathleen. And tell her about Aaron.”
“Your wife had a right to know.”
“No.” His tone was emphatic. “I'd been told not to tell anyone. And up until Carina, I'd honored that. I'd kept my mouth shut. Because I knew what the consequences would be.” His gaze dropped to the desert floor and he kicked his bare foot in the sand. “She said she'd go to Anchor, too. Tell him I'd broken my promise.”
“She did go to Anchor,” I told him.
“Really?” He looked up at me, raised both eyebrows. “Dumber than I thought, I guess. Her demands were ridiculous. She wanted a house, cash, a car, all this shit I couldn't get her. But I panicked a little and told her I could at least get her the money. I'd already pocketed what I thought I could from the clubs. Then Delzano was waiting for me one night.” His mouth set in a firm line and he shifted on the sand. “He wanted names and files on every property and business Anchor and his people have and are eyeing in Vegas. Told me he could hook me up with a job in his outfit, which I knew was bullshit, but whatever. Told him I could get him the list, that it would take a while, but I'd need some seed money. He fronted it to me. Figured I could pass that on to Carina, too, try to get her off my back.” He shrugged. “So that's where it all came from.”
I thought about my one conversation with Carina. She'd been relieved when I stopped asking questions. I thought at the time it was just because I was done hassling her. But now I was certain that it was because she'd been relieved that I hadn't asked about the blackmail because I hadn't known about it.
“But you didn't give it to Carina,” I said, puzzled. “You disappeared with it.”
He nodded slowly, staring down at his hands. “Yep. I just panicked again. I figured if I paid off Carina, she'd just keep hitting me up for more. It wasn't gonna end. And I'd stolen from Anchor again and I figured he'd probably figure it out. I assumed Delzano was just gonna off me when he was done with me. It was all a dead end. At least if I took off, I thought Kathleen would be okay. They'd leave her alone because it was all me.” He shrugged and looked up at me. “I had this idea in my head that at some point, I'd get in touch with Kathleen, find her and have her come to me, wherever I ended up. I could explain everything to her and we'd have a little money and it would be okay.” He shook his head. “It was stupid. I get it. It doesn't make any sense and it never would've worked. I just felt like I'd backed myself into a corner and didn't know how to get out of it.” He paused. “And now we're here. You supposed to take me back to Anchor so he can cut my fingers off one at a time and let me bleed to death or what?”
I shook my head. “No.”
He blinked several times, then nodded. “Alright. Great.”
He seemed so resigned to his own fate, like there was nothing he could do to change it. I didn't know if there was, but he'd made some incredibly bad choices that had just dropped him deeper in the hole. Now there was no way to get out of it.
“My life is shit anyway at this point,” he said, the tears shining again in his eyes. “I just always thought...” His voice trailed off.
“You just always thought what?” I asked.
He took a deep breath, fighting off the sobs that were trying to escape from him. “I just always thought I'd be able to fix it. To somehow get Anchor for what he did. I don't know how, but I always though
t I'd figure something out. Then I could tell Kathleen and maybe she'd understand why I did what I did.”
I thought he was kidding himself. I didn't see any way he could've gotten Anchor. He was untouchable. Maybe Kathleen might've bought an explanation from him down the road, but I didn't think that Anchor was vulnerable.
Dennison pushed off the ground and started to get to his feet. I took a step back and aimed the gun at him again. He looked at me, his eyes dead, his mouth slightly open. His shoulders were rounded over and he didn't appear to have the energy to run or fight.
“I'm not going anywhere,” he said, reading my mind. He stepped away from the SUV, his back to the dark desert. “Let's just get this over with, man. Alright?”
The stars sparkled in the distance behind him, small dots of light in the black sky.
I held the gun on him, aimed at his chest.
My stomach tightened into a large coiled knot.
“Yeah,” I said, the trigger cold against my finger. “Let's get this over with.”
FORTY THREE
I pulled into Vegas just as the sun was waking up the valley.
It had taken me about five hours from Yuma, a straight shot north through the dark western Arizona desert. For most of the drive, it looked like I was driving on something that resembled the surface of the moon.
I'd texted Anchor when I hit Henderson, telling him I needed to meet in thirty minutes. He'd texted back immediately, naming a diner just off the highway, on the north side of the Strip area. He was the only one in there, a steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of him. He looked like he always did – dark suit, dress shirt and a tie perfectly knotted at his neck. His perfectly combed hair was damp and he was staring at the screen on his phone through the horn-rimmed glasses.
I slid into the booth across from him. The red leather was cracked and pieces of yellowed stuffing fluttered to the floor.
“Good morning, Mr. Tyler,” he said, setting his phone down. “I was surprised to hear from you.”
“It's done.” I wasn't interested in small talk with him.
“It?”
“Dennison.”
He tilted his head to the side. “It is? That was quicker than I anticipated.”
“I located him,” I said. “It's done.”
Anchor stared at me for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well. Was the money with him?”
“It wasn't,” I said. “But you indicated you weren't very interested in it, so I didn't waste time looking.”
He smoothed the tie. “That's fine. But...?”
I nodded. “It's done. As promised.”
He eyed me again. “Just like that?”
“I told you I'd do it. And I did.”
“You had reservations about completing your task,” he reminded me. “I'm just confirming that the outcome I requested is the one you delivered.”
I yanked my phone out of my pocket and slammed it down on the table. “You want fucking proof?” I shoved the phone in his direction and it slid across the Formica. “There it is.”
Anchor sipped his coffee, his eyes on me. “Photos, I presume?”
I gave a slight nod.
He glanced down at the phone in front of me. He picked it up and stared at the blank screen. Then he slid it back to me. “That won't be necessary.”
I shoved it back in my pocket. “I'm deleting them.”
“That would be wise.”
“So we're square,” I said.
Anchor nodded. “We are, yes. I appreciate your willingness to work with me on this.”
I slid back out of the booth.. More stuffing spilled to the floor. “Right.”
“Mr. Tyler?”
I looked at him.
“If you ever need assistance in the future—”
“I won't,” I said.
I turned and walked out of the diner, hoping I never set eyes on John Anchor again.
FORTY FOUR
Thirty minutes later, I set the duffel bag on the table in front of Matthew Delzano.
Delzano looked at it, then motioned to the other side of the table. “Have a seat.”
“I'm good,” I said. “It's all there.”
After I left Anchor, I'd called the number on the card Delzano had tossed me when we'd met the first time. He'd answered and I told him why I was calling him. He gave me the name of a bar near the downtown area and told me to meet him there. Two guys patted me down before they let me in to the small concrete building. They led me to Delzano, who was sitting at a small round table next to the bar in the dimly lit room. A guy at a table next to him was counting cash into fat stacks and glanced at me when I dropped the bag on the table.
“You found him,” Delzano said.
I nodded.
He licked his fingers, then unzipped the duffel. He nodded at the two guys who brought me in. One of them grabbed the bag and set it on another table. Both of them started pulling the money out and counting it.
Delzano leaned back in his chair. He wore a royal blue warm-up suit that looked like it had been made for a guy a hundred pounds lighter, a black golf-shirt peeking out from underneath. Half an omelet remained on the plate in front of him.
“Where'd you find old Patrick?” he asked.
“Doesn't matter. You got your money back.”
“Am I gonna get my chat with Patrick?”
“No.”
“No?” he said, raising a bushy eyebrow. “How come?” I didn't say anything and he chuckled “Wow. Didn't know you had it in you, Tyler. Good for you.”
I didn't say anything.
“I'll bet he whined like a little baby,” Delzano said, grinning.
I didn't say anything.
“It's all here,” the one guy said, glancing up from the bag.
Delzano nodded.
“We're done,” I said.
“Looks that way,” Delzano said. He held out his hand. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
I ignored his hand, turned and walked out of the bar.
FORTY FIVE
I drove out of the parking lot and picked up my phone from the passenger seat. I thumbed through the directory, found the number I wanted and dialed.
“Metro Homicide,” a voice said on the other end.
“I need Detective Toball, please.”
“One moment.”
A moment later. “Toball.”
“Detective,” I said. “This is Joe Tyler.”
The line buzzed for a moment. “Mr. Tyler. You leaving the area? I didn't expect you to give me the courtesy.”
“I didn't. I've already left and come back and I'm leaving again,” I said. “You know an asshole named Matthew Delzano?”
“Unfortunately, I'm familiar with him, yeah.”
“Carina Armstrong,” I said. “He's your guy.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“If I could, I would,” I told him. “But he's your guy. Not him, I'm sure. But one of his guys.”
“And you know this how?”
“Like I said. If I knew more, I'd share it. I'm just letting you know you'd be smart to look there,” I said.
The line buzzed again. “That isn't much, Mr. Tyler.”
“No, it's not.”
“You wanna come in and tell me more?”
“I already told you,” I said. “I'm leaving again. And I won't be back.”
“No? You found Mr. Dennison?”
“I quit the case,” I said. “So I'm done.”
“I really think you should come in and—”
“Then you're gonna need to drive to San Diego and arrest me,” I told him. “Because I'm going home and don't plan on coming back. Delzano's your guy.”
I punched off the phone and tossed it on the seat next to me.
I took a deep breath and glanced in my rearview mirror. Las Vegas was in it, both literally and figuratively. I hoped I wouldn't be looking at it again for a very long time.
My phone buzzed in the passenger seat and I grunted
. I assumed it was going to be Toball calling me back, trying to cajole me into coming in. I wasn't going to. He was going to have to live with that.
I glanced at the phone.
It wasn't Toball.
It was Elizabeth.
I grabbed it and tapped the screen. “Guess what, kid? I'm driving home right now.”
“Dad,” she said, her voice, thin, strained.
I gripped the steering wheel. “Elizabeth? What's wrong?”
“Mom's in the hospital,” she said.
“What?”
“I just got a text. At school. She...she said she wasn't feeling good and that she was going to the hospital to get checked out. She said she was just letting me know and not to worry. But I'm worried. She wasn't feeling good this morning, either. Said her stomach hurt. I think something's wrong with the baby.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “What?”
“I don't know!” Elizabeth's voice edged on hysterical. “She drove herself. She just texted me and I can't get ahold of her. I called and she won't answer. And I'm stuck at school and she needs me and I just...” She broke into tears.
“Elizabeth.” My voice was sharp. “You stay at school. I'm on my way. I'll let you know when I get there.”
“I want to go see her.”
“Stay at school,” I said again. I pushed the gas pedal closer to the floor. “I'm on my way. I'll be there as soon as I can.”
“Hurry. I'm scared.”
“I know you are,” I said, stepping harder on the accelerator.
So was I.
FORTY SIX
Lauren's eyes fluttered and her fingers flexed in my hand.
The monitor on the wall beeped and she fidgeted beneath the hospital bed sheet, the collar of her gown pulled down at an awkward angle. I reached over and pulled it back up to her shoulder, my fingers brushing her skin.
Her eyes fluttered again, then opened.
She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then rotated her eyes to me.
I smiled at her. “Hi.”
She nodded, then closed her eyes again. A tear escaped, trickling down her cheek. I lifted my hand to brush it away, then stopped. I let my hand fall back to the bed.
