by Sarah Cain
That scenario made sense. If Greg had something on the cop and the cop got tired of jumping to Greg’s whistle, maybe he lost his temper. It would be easy to set up the crime scene—except for the tongue, which was pretty weird. Eliot could then take Greg’s computer and cell phone and toss them just in case there was anything incriminating.
It made more sense than anything else Danny could come up with. Now all he had to do was prove it.
They had passed Lincoln Financial Field and were passing the Delaware Avenue exit. Danny considered lunging across the seat and grabbing for Johnny’s arm, but it wouldn’t accomplish much beyond sending the car careening out of control across multiple lanes of traffic. He could take his chances on throwing himself out of the car, but they were travelling at close to eighty. It was early, a little after five thirty, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get squashed by a passing eighteen-wheeler or worse.
In any case, it didn’t much matter where he ended up. It wasn’t going to be pleasant. He needed to focus on staying in one piece for Kevin. For Alex. If it wasn’t already too late.
50
Alex pushed her arms up toward the light like a swimmer emerging from dark water, dragging her body up, up until her head popped out of the dirt. She coughed and pulled herself forward, kicking her legs to widen the hole, knowing she had seconds to get free. Something grasped at her foot, and she tried to kick it away.
Please, please. Oh, dear God. She had to get free, but a hand clamped around her ankle. It pulled her back down into the darkness, and she landed in a heap on the dirt floor, staring up at Jenna, who was resplendent in a sparkling white dress. Her dark hair was caught up in a twist and woven through with sparkling rhinestone beads save for one long curl that hung over her right shoulder. She could have been an ornament for her own front lawn.
Jenna clamped her right hand on her hip. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Please, Jenna. I can’t stand the dark. Let me go.” She started to reach out, but Jenna slapped her hand away.
“Don’t touch me. You’re disgusting.” Jenna brushed the front of her dress. “Do you want to ruin my wedding dress? That was really stupid, Alex. Now I can’t trust you.”
“You can. You can.” Alex shrank back against the wall. “Your wedding dress? I’m so sorry. It’s—you’re so beautiful. Please. I got scared when I woke up and saw the sandwiches were poisoned.”
“Poisoned?”
“All those ants are dead.”
Jenna gave a grim laugh. “The sandwiches aren’t poisoned, stupid. They’re drugged. You were supposed to eat them and sleep till Johnny got back.”
Alex looked up at Jenna, her mind racing. Jenna held a heavy flashlight in her right hand, but no gun. She might have one in the bag she carried over her shoulder, but at the moment, she wasn’t pointing it in Alex’s direction.
“Why don’t you tell me about Johnny?” Alex said.
“What do you mean?”
“Your story. I’d still like to hear it.”
Jenna shook her head. “I just said that to get you out here.”
“I know, but since I’m here, can’t you at least humor me?”
Jenna glared at her with narrowed eyes for a long moment. “You don’t really care.”
“Yes. I do. I came here for a story. At least let me hear it. The real story.” Alex swallowed a few times to force saliva into her mouth. She was filthy and thirsty, and she had to delay her because Jenna might club her with that big flashlight.
“Danny Ryan was my first love.”
“Oh, Jenna, I know Danny. He’d never have left you if he knew you had his child. He had a little boy. His name was Conor, and he died a few years ago. Please tell me what happened.”
Jenna’s face grew pinched, and she rocked back and forth.
“I know it must have been difficult for you,” Alex said.
“Danny was my first love. That doesn’t mean he loved me back. That bitch Michelle got in the way.” Jenna’s voice was flat and bitter. “No one loved me back. You know what they called me? Jumbo Jen. Mouth breather. Swamp creature. You know what that’s like?” She sneered at Alex. “No. You don’t know. I’ll bet you were one of them.”
How did one reply to the truth? Jenna was right. Alex had been popular, athletic, and smart mouthed. Less proper than her sister, she was a good-time girl, never at a loss for words. Always the center of attention. Now this crazy woman was focused on her, and Alex needed to calm her. She needed to draw her out, like a reverse Scheherazade, and keep her spinning tales.
“Tell me how it was,” Alex said. “Woman to woman.”
Jenna stared at her. “You don’t care about me.”
“That’s not true. I’m a reporter. I write stories. I want to hear your story. Why did you like Danny? At least tell me that.”
That was an easy question. Jenna’s tight face relaxed, and for a moment she looked girlish again. In love. Alex shivered.
“Danny was nice to me,” Jenna said. “We worked on the newspaper together, but he also wrote these beautiful stories in English class. I mean, he wrote that juvie essay, but he wrote other things, too. I bet you didn’t know that he used to write made-up stories. Heartbreaking stories. Like everyone expected he’d be this big novelist—not that being a columnist is a letdown or anything, but you know?” Jenna sighed and patted the front of her dress over her heart. “And he wasn’t stuck up about it, so basically he was just sweet and kind.”
“Yeah. He is.” One of Danny’s greatest assets was the way he insinuated himself with people, got them to feel comfortable and reveal those little insights he’d share with his readers. Was it real? Sometimes.
“But didn’t you go to the prom with another boy?”
“I paid him.” Jenna sighed and a tear rolled down her cheek. “Ollie. A hundred dollars. Half in advance because I knew if I paid the whole thing, he’d screw me and ask someone else.”
“But prom was okay, right?” Alex edged back against the wall. Jenna was all sorts of crazy, but once she’d been a girl with hopes and dreams. How much abuse did you have to suffer before you became that swamp creature, especially if you were broken to begin with?
Jenna shrugged. “If you mean, did they dump a bucket of pig’s blood on me—which they didn’t—then sure, prom was okay. I starved myself for two months and lost twenty pounds. But Danny was with that bitch Michelle Perry, and she was gorgeous in this sparkly dress, and they looked like they belonged in a movie. And I just wanted him to dance with me—like in a movie where the popular guy finally notices the plain girl. But he didn’t.”
“But I’m sure you looked beautiful, too.”
“No, I didn’t. I looked like a big red whale.” Jenna’s face contorted into something between a frown and a grimace. “I lost twenty pounds. But it didn’t matter. Everyone still laughed at me.”
“Oh, Jenna. I know kids can be awful. But—”
“No buts about it, they were awful. And Danny didn’t even notice me. He should have. He really should have.”
“Maybe he was, uh, distracted?”
“By Miss Perfect-I’m-So-Smart-and-Skinny-and-Wonderful? You bet he was. She dumped him, you know.”
Alex didn’t know, and she didn’t want to know. Or maybe she did. What was wrong with her? “Jenna, won’t you untie my hands? They really hurt. I promise I won’t run.”
“You have to earn my trust.”
“How do I do that?”
“We’ll see. Maybe if you’re a good bridesmaid.”
Jesus. What hell did that mean? She couldn’t really believe that she could force Danny to marry her, but Jenna was swaying and humming. Alex would have taken a chance and hurled a piece of the cement at her head, but she wasn’t sure she could move fast enough to evade that flashlight.
“At least tell me why you went to Greg’s house,” Alex said.
“I went to Greg Moss’s house because I lost ten more pounds, and Barb said I should come because
I looked so glam. I knew Danny would be there, and I thought maybe Michelle wouldn’t because her mom was so we’re-better-than-everyone. I was as skinny as I ever was in my life. I was just stupid.”
“No, you were just young.”
“Barb invited me, so I guess I should have known better. Danny wasn’t even there when I walked in, but Ollie was. My prom date. Ollie. And he just ignored me. So I got drunk and high, and I thought, why not? I’ve never been laid. I probably never will get laid. Why not?”
Alex rubbed her head, trying to comprehend what Jenna was telling her. “But why would you want to be around those guys? They were such creeps.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I just wanted to be wanted . . . for once.” Jenna was crying now. “You don’t know. That song. I still hear it. ‘Shut ’Em Down.’ They kept playing it and playing it. And Frank went first. I had this halter top, and he said I had the biggest tits he’d ever seen. And he just pulled off my shorts and pulled my legs so far apart I thought he broke them.
“I thought it would make me popular, but I was . . . the room smelled like animals. Frank stuck his fingers in me. Then he fucked me. Just like I asked.
“And it hurt. It really hurt, and I wanted it to stop, but they wouldn’t. They just kept coming. And that room. It was dark and hot. And Frank kept shouting, ‘She loves it.’ But I didn’t. I wanted them to stop. I just—I couldn’t say it.”
Alex’s blood was pounding. She wanted to hate this pathetic woman, but she couldn’t. Jenna Jeffords was a sad specimen. She had been degraded in the worst manner possible.
“Ricky put a pillow over my head ’cause he said I was too ugly to fuck otherwise. He had a little dick, and he made me suck it. Stan was last. He couldn’t get it up, so he jerked off on me.”
“Oh, Jenna. Why didn’t you report it?”
Jenna looked at her without expression. “Report it? It was my fault. I asked for it. I said I wanted to fuck. I didn’t stop them.”
“It wasn’t right,” Alex said. “What they did wasn’t right.”
“I thought about burning down the house. I wanted them to burn,” Jenna said. “But I didn’t know how. Then, well, you know the rest. I couldn’t tell Johnny about how he got here, so I told him a story. It was a nice story.”
“He’s been killing people to keep that story real.”
Jenna banged the flashlight against her palm. “I told him the truth. Okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“After Danny’s family died, I knew it was a sign. I knew he thought I was dead, so I, too, would be reborn. I told Johnny what happened, and I told him he could help me clean the slate.”
“Clean the slate?”
“Once all the bad ones were gone, everything would be okay again.”
“But it’s not okay. Don’t you understand?” Alex bit her lip to shut herself up when Jenna frowned.
“Danny should have noticed me.”
“Tell me about the fire. Please.”
“Mother was angry when she found out I was pregnant. She called me names. She wanted me to get an abortion, but I couldn’t abort Danny’s baby.”
Jenna patted her stomach, and Alex let her words sink in. A few moments ago Jenna had seemed completely lucid. Now she had slipped back into fantasyland. It wasn’t possible that Danny would have taken advantage of Jenna. The man Alex knew simply wasn’t capable of it. The horrible little voice in her head laughed at her. It’s because Jenna’s so ugly. Alex wanted to stop up her ears. No. She knew Danny. He just wouldn’t.
She stared at Jenna in panic. “But it’s . . . Tell me about the fire. Did Frank set it?”
“Frank? He’d never be that useful. The funny thing is I probably would have run away from home with the household money or something, but the Angel came to me.”
“Who came to you?”
Jenna gave her a sly smile. “I can’t say.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s not even around anymore. He worked for a guy in South Philly. He helped people.”
“Your angel helped people?”
“He built pretty houses for people.”
“Do you know who this guy was?”
Jenna shrugged.
“Who set the fires?”
Jenna giggled. “I told you. The Angel.”
“Jenna, please.”
“He’s probably gone by now, but he made a lot of old, ugly places disappear, and then beautiful, new places appeared. I guess people thought he was dumb, just like people thought I was ugly. But he was special, just like me and Danny.”
“You knew him?”
Jenna nodded. “Ask Danny if he remembers the Angel. I know he does.” She sniffed and blinked as if she just remembered something. “You’re a naughty Jezebel, aren’t you? You don’t fool me, though. You’ve been trying to slow me down, but we have a wedding to prepare for, and you’re going to look beautiful in my red dress.”
51
The shredder at G and R Scrap stood silent, and only a black Chevy pickup was parked in the lot when Johnny pulled up to the curb. The gate was unlocked, and Danny recognized an oh-shit inevitability to the situation that made his stomach turn over.
“Did you call Frank Greer?” he asked.
Johnny smirked at him. “No. You did. You texted him. Pretty funny, huh?”
“Hilarious. If you think Frank is going to sit by calmly and let you shoot him, you’re an idiot. Maybe he isn’t even here. I don’t see his car.”
“We’ll see. Get out of the car and walk to the scale. I’ll be right behind you, and I’ve got a gun. When you see Greer, you tell him I want to talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“You just tell him.”
The humid air was cloying and thick with dust when Danny opened the door and walked down the gravel driveway toward the scale. He could try running, but he doubted he’d get far. Either Frank or Johnny would open fire. He was like a duck in a shooting gallery. On the other hand, Frank wasn’t an idiot.
The road curved to the left, and Danny knew Frank would be watching him approach. Frank wouldn’t have a clear line of sight to the road, so he wouldn’t see Johnny if he came through the parking lot.
The pink clouds were starting to break the horizon, and Danny held up a hand to shield his eyes. Frank’s red Caddy was parked to the side of the trailer, close to the shredder. Danny could see the big scale the trucks pulled onto ahead, and the scale house across from it. It was little more than a broken-down trailer with a wide door and a single window. A camera mounted on the window pointed at the scale. Inside was a video recorder, but Danny couldn’t tell if it was running or not. Danny paused and looked back. Nothing. He stood alone. Johnny had cut through the parking lot.
“What the hell do you want, Ryan?” Frank’s voice came from the vicinity of the scale house, but he didn’t show himself.
Danny looked around. Frank was either inside or pressed against its jutting outer edge.
“Remember that chat we had yesterday?” Danny called. “I think your past is calling.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Your past would like a word or two.”
It didn’t occur to Danny until the words left his mouth that he might be speaking the truth, but it made a kind of sense. Frank and he were of a similar height and build. They were both dark-haired and blue-eyed. One of them had sex with Jenna Jeffords and was a sociopath. Did the tendency run in families? Maybe it did, especially if Jenna was in the mix.
“Shut up, Ryan,” Frank said. Danny could see him now through the filthy window of the scale house. Frank wasn’t alone.
“Let’s all introduce ourselves,” Danny said.
“Let’s not,” Frank said. “You take that kid and get the fuck off my property. Or we can stand here till the rest of the guys roll in to work. That’ll be in about forty minutes. Your choice.”
Danny glanced back. The boy had disappeared. Shit. He now und
erstood his role: decoy. “Frank,” he said. “You better watch—”
A shot pinged the ground right in front of his feet, and he jumped backward. The second shot winged his left calf, and he dropped to the gravel. A third shot whistled past, and Danny realized Johnny must have slipped around the back of the trailer.
Frank started to shout. “Get down! Get down! That goddamn bastard’s back here.”
Danny heard more shots, but he didn’t move. His side was burning. When he twisted and fell, the crude stitches must have torn, and his blood began to seep through his T-shirt at a faster pace. He was at least a pint low by now. That was pretty funny. He thought about making a break for the car, but the effort seemed too great. He lay in the gravel, staring up at the lightening sky.
52
Ted Eliot was pleading for his life.
“Look, you don’t understand the pressure I’m under. I can’t keep giving up all this information. The brass is starting to get suspicious.”
“We need to know what Vice is looking into.”
“I don’t work Vice. You know how difficult it is for me to get this?”
“You’re a smart guy, Ted. You can do it. I mean, think how much worse it would be for you if they saw you on tape, stoned out of your head, getting blown by a tranny hooker. Right?” Greg started to laugh, and Ted jerked awake. Despite the air conditioning, his shirt clung to him.
His good buddy, Greg Moss. When had it all had spun out of control? Bad enough that Greg had wanted confidential police information. Worse, he wanted Ted to start feeding him clients, friends of his mother.
“I want to get into the New York real estate market,” Greg had informed him.
“You don’t just get into it,” Ted had replied.
“I know. You need connections. Rich connections. Like your family. I can show them a good time. Don’t pretend they don’t party.”
“You’re crazy if you think you can tap into that, even with my mother’s help.”
“No. I’m good at getting people what they want.”
