by Ray Backley
It was one more reason to want Vinnie dead.
But by now he’d realized that threatening Vinnie again would be pointless; it would rile him further and obviously make him less likely to free his prisoners. No, much better to try to talk to the guy, to give the impression he was making peace of some sort.
How would he do that in practice? He had no idea. Not yet.
After Dan had warned him about the booby-trap laid by Phoebe, Vinnie had gone ballistic, roughing Phoebe up and making her scream and cry, slapping both children, then giving Dan a few kicks to the head. After that, he’d calmed down just a little. He’d tied Phoebe and Benjie up with duct tape, leaving a two-yard gap between Dan and Phoebe, and the same between Phoebe and Benjie. So now they all sat across one wall of the basement, with Dan telling them both that he would make sure the nasty man wouldn’t hurt them, that the ordeal would be over soon enough, that they would get to see their mommy again, and that life would get back to normal before they knew it.
Vinnie had also told them he’d changed his mind about their privileges, that due to the stunt with the screws they had forfeited the right to breaks for food, water and other basic needs. So it wasn’t long before both children complained that they were sore, thirsty and hungry.
Dan lied about that too, telling them he knew it wouldn’t be long before the man came back with something to eat and drink.
As it turned out, he did return soon afterward, but he had no food or drink, just walked along the row of three like a guard, looking behind each of them to check they were still tied up. Then he let out a satisfied grunt, nodded to himself, and turned to leave.
“Could I say something?” Dan said as Vinnie approached the steps.
Vinnie turned and glared.
“I just thought we could talk,” Dan said.
Vinnie walked right up to him and swung his shoe into his head again. The cuts that had started to congeal split anew and fresh blood got splattered all over Dan’s face and T-shirt.
Dan groaned in pain, then shouted out, “You win! Okay? You win! Whatever it is you want, just say it. You can have everything we got. You can have all the cash Cath and I have if you only—”
Dan, spotting the shoe swinging again, stopped talking, clamped his jaws shut and hunkered his chin down onto his chest.
But the blow never came. The cackling laugh that Vinnie threw at him hurt far more. Dan looked up, still readying himself to flinch, and saw Vinnie grinning manically, chest jerking, finger wagging at Dan.
“I got you there, pussy hands, didn’t I?”
You’re gonna die, you twisted piece of shit.
“You did,” he said. “You got me fair and square.”
Kick me once again and it’ll be a bullet in your knee first. Hurt my kids and I’ll blow your lower jaw off.
“I aim to please,” Vinnie said, snickering to himself. “Now, tell me, dumb Dan, what did you want to talk about?”
Dan pointed to the kids with his eyes. Vinnie got the message and crouched down in front of him. Their faces were inches apart. The temptation to lift his legs and get Vinnie in some sort of headlock was hard to resist, but ultimately would have been a stupid move. He lowered his voice to a gravelly whisper.
“I was serious, Vinnie.”
“About what?”
“About the cash or whatever else you want from us.”
Vinnie gave a crooked smile, his lower lip jutting out. “Mmm . . . interesting.”
“You obviously don’t intend to kill us all, otherwise you’d have done that by now. So why don’t we just talk about what you actually do want, huh?”
“What do I want?” Vinnie said. “What do I want?” Dan saw damnation in the man’s eyes and a snarl from the bowels of hell crawl onto his lips. “I’ll tell you what I want, mommy’s boy. I want my thirteen years back, that’s what I want. Thirteen years of never taking a shit without someone watching, thirteen years of eating the kind of food people like you wouldn’t have in your shopping cart, thirteen years of bars and locks and always living in fear for my life and knowing I wouldn’t be able to run if someone wanted me dead. So yeah, I want my thirteen years back, please. Could you fix that for me?”
Dan felt the fire from Vinnie’s face, but now was no time to back down. “Look at my two little children,” he said. “Go on, look at them. You think they’re to blame for your thirteen years in prison?”
“You know something, pussy hands, to me they’re just like you, and just like the rest of the cockroaches down here. Frankly, I don’t give two shits about them or you.” He took a rag from his back pocket and wiped the bloody mess from Dan’s face, scraping the crud from his eye socket and cheekbone, working with an attention to detail that made him frown in concentration. It felt good, perhaps just a little rougher than how Dan would have done it, but it was a huge relief from the itching of the particles dripping down his face and floating across his eyeball.
Vinnie put the rag away and said, “Are we done talking now, Dan?”
Dan desperately tried to think of something else to say, but before he came up with something, Vinnie stood up, took a sharp sniff, and said, “Awesome.”
Then he took aim and swung his already bloody shoe into Dan’s head, opening the cut above his eye just a little more, spewing fresh blood across his face. “Anyways, I got stuff to do, pussy hands.”
Not for the first time, Dan had to keep his left eye shut – an action which hurt like a bitch – but with his right eye he saw Vinnie walking away.
“Wait!” he shouted out.
Vinnie stopped and turned.
“Ten thousand dollars. I’ll give you ten thousand dollars if you let us all go.”
“Fifty.”
Dan groaned and spat out blood. “Twenty-five.”
“Fifty.”
Dan had no intention of paying a cent, but the manner of the man made him seethe. He spat out more blood and said, “And you’ll let us all go right now?”
“Yup.”
“Okay. Fifty. Now, let us go.”
Vinnie thought for a moment. “I guess a guy with salty blood in his eye doesn’t have much bargaining power.”
“I guess you’re right.”
If a guy like that goes up to fifty gees so quickly, I’ll wager he’d go up to seventy-five.”
“Ah jeez, come on now, Vinnie. Won’t you stop dicking me around?”
“Mister, the only dicking around I’m gonna do is with your lovely wife.” He glanced at Phoebe and shielded his mouth with his hand, whispering, “Well, perhaps your cute little daughter too.”
Dan blotted that comment from his mind. It didn’t matter right now because he could sniff a negotiated release. But it was a hard one to judge. If he increased his offer again too easily Vinnie might sense the bluff. Then again, he felt so helpless he would have gladly offered his soul in exchange for being untied – for the chance to protect his family.
“I can go to sixty. And I really can’t go further, the money isn’t there. I wouldn’t like to promise you anything I couldn’t deliver.”
“Okay.”
“Sixty thousand dollars it is. If you untie me and take me to a laptop, I’ll wire it through straightaway, no questions asked, all yours, just untie me.”
Dan braced himself for the reply. He wasn’t as big as Vinnie, but he was ten times as mean and pumped up. As soon as the zip ties were off him, whether Vinnie had a knife or even a gun, there would be a fight of some sort. He would make sure of it.
Vinnie sighed through his nose. “Mmm . . . nah. Thing is, I lied. I really am dicking you around. You can keep your stinking money.” Then he turned and started climbing the steps.
Dan hollered, “Well, what the hell is it you need?”
“Nothing,” Vinnie shouted back, not even pausing as he approached the door at the top of the steps. “Happy to shoot the breeze with you, pussy hands, but I’m just cool, enjoying life again after my long vacation.”
He went through an
d shut the door behind him.
All Dan could hear was Phoebe telling him to stop crying.
Chapter 28
Cath’s short stroll along the sidewalk had calmed her down.
But she knew the walk had changed nothing; the street outside was the same, the sky hadn’t changed, and the truth was still the truth, however unpalatable: Johnny was her only lead, and if she really wanted to find her family, then engaging him in conversation might just be the way to achieve that.
She returned to the apartment and replied to Johnny, saying that she wanted very much to talk to him via video chat, and the request came through within three minutes.
The Facebook photo had frightened Cath enough – had brought back those horrible memories she would have preferred to have left buried – but what now appeared on her screen was a quite pathetic looking figure, frowning and biting his lip, a tic flicking one eye half-shut every few seconds. If ever a man could be fifty percent guilt and fifty percent regret, that man was looking directly at her. She’d assumed her stomach would turn on seeing him, but she felt nothing for the man, and was good with that.
Behind him, a cross and a photo of a choir hung on the wall. He leaned forward, peering at her.
“Karen? It’s really you? I didn’t . . . I mean, I didn’t dare believe it might be you.”
“It is.” The words were spluttered out. She cleared her throat and told herself to be strong. “I changed my name after the trial. My name’s Cath now.”
He nodded. “Okay. Cath it is. And I now call myself Jonathan.” A pained expression broke through the graininess of the image. “And . . . are you sure you want to talk to me after what happened between us?” Before Cath could reply, he held up one of his meaty hands and added, “No, that’s not right. It’s not about what happened between us, it’s what I did to you. Please forgive me.”
“It’s a video chat. You can’t harm me.”
“Of course. And I don’t want to. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you hated me. You know that, don’t you?”
She was about to say that was good of him, but the words lodged in her throat. “Yes,” was all she could get out of her mouth.
“I’m really humbled you agreed to talk to me,” he said. “I’m not going to ask you how you are or how you’ve been the last few years, but I do want to tell you that I did a lot of thinking in prison – an awful lot. I remember Layla. Do you remember Layla?”
It was a conversation she might – just might – have with Jonathan at some stage given time and the appropriate circumstances, but now wasn’t that time. If she started talking about Layla she would be derailed. So she just replied with a nod, and let him continue.
“I bear the blame for what happened to her as much as anyone does. If I was a better person at the time, I would have saved her. I know a lot of bad things happened besides Layla, but she’s what I’m most ashamed of, and each and every day I pray to the good Lord for forgiveness. All I can say is that I really hope your life has worked out for you – that you’re as good as you can be.”
Am I good? Cath asked herself. I’ve lost my husband, both kids and my house because of Vinnie. She told herself to forget those feelings for now and to focus.
“I met a good man,” she said. “I got two sweet kids, nice house. It’s been a hard road, but I’m good.”
“I’m happy for you. I hope you’ve found peace and contentment in your life and that it continues. I wouldn’t ask you to forgive me, but I can’t express enough to you how much I regret my actions, and I want to thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk to you. I’m a changed man. I’m not a threat to you, Cath. Please believe that. And if there’s anything I can do to help you, just say the word.”
There was a long silence. It took a while for Cath to find words. Eventually she said, “Well, that’s kind of you, Jonathan. You’re right; if I’m honest it’s kind of hard to forgive.”
“Hey, that’s not a problem. With God’s help, perhaps one day you will, and on that day your soul will find peace.”
Say it, Cath told herself, say it.
But all she could do was stare at his face, which wasn’t exactly calm and serene, but was just a little less twitchy and nervous, becoming less like the ghost in her cellar with every passing minute.
Say it, but be casual.
She gulped her fear away, then slowly forced the words out. “Are you, uh . . . I mean, are you still in contact with any of the other guys we hung out with back then?”
“Oh, sure. I don’t have time for enemies. You know Bullface took his own life, don’t you?”
And good riddance too.
“I do remember that,” Cath said.
“And Franco took his life the coward’s way.”
“The coward’s way?”
“Oh, he took to drugs when he came out of prison five years ago. I tried to help him, tried my best to light the way along a better path for him. He wasn’t having it. One fix too many. Heart couldn’t take it.”
No tears shed by me.
“Well, you tried, Jonathan.”
“It’s a terrible world. We all just have to do what we can to help people.”
“And, uh, what was the other guy’s name? Was it . . . Vinnie?”
“You mean Vinnie Lemont?”
“Yeah. That must be the guy. You still know him?”
“Oh, I’ll always know Vinnie. We go way back together. I used to visit him in San Quentin, tried to give him a little encouragement, some spiritual guidance to help him turn his life around.”
Cath nodded, then tried a shrug. “So, uh, I guess you know what happened to him.”
“Funny, he just got out of prison a few days ago.”
“No way?”
“Yeah. I picked him up from the gates. We had a few drinks, then I took him back to meet my wife and little boy.”
“You think he’s changed?”
“Oh, I’d say he’s a work in progress, but it’s a piece of work I won’t give up on. I told him I’ll never get myself involved in illegal activities again, but I’ll always be his friend, just as Jesus is my friend.”
“Is he living in some sort of hostel or something?”
“Oh, he inherited his folks’ old place back of beyond up Bakersfield way.”
“So, he’s living there?”
“Yeah. It’s not much, a small bungalow that needs a lot of work doing on it, but it’s a base for him, and I’m hoping it gives him a little stability in life.”
“You got the address?”
“Why? You wanna talk to him?”
The prospect made Cath’s heart bump around in her ribcage, and she disguised her gasp with a shrug of the shoulders. “I guess so,” she said as casually as she could manage. “Just to talk over old times.”
“I got the feeling he’d like to talk to you too, to apologize for all the bad things he did to you back in the day. Wasn’t he your boyfriend at one stage?”
No. He was my dirty pimp.
“He was. Do you have the address by any chance? I was thinking it would be good to surprise him.”
The words were awful and unbelievable, but the best ones she could come up with. She held her breath as Jonathan frowned and stared up above the webcam, concentrating hard as he replied.
“He might not like that. It’s better that I contact him, tell him you’d like to see him, find out if he wants to see you. If he does, he can call you and tell you where he lives. That okay with you?”
Cath considered arguing the point, considered insisting in some subtle way that she needed his address right now. But that wouldn’t be wise. It could give away the fact she was hunting him down. No, acting casual and leaving things as they stood would make sense. It was a lead, however tentative. If he called her, the cops could trace it. Even if he had the brains to withhold his number, the cops could probably get around that. That is, if she could bring herself to involve the cops again.
“Uh, yeah. Fine. Why not? Thank you, Jona
than.”
“My pleasure, Cath.”
She gave him her cell phone number to pass on – Vinnie already had it, of course, but Jonathan didn’t know that – and after a little more chat and a casual agreement to keep in touch, she closed the video chat and sat smiling to herself. It was the first smile to cross her lips for some time.
She went for a walk, got another coffee, but found herself checking her cell phone for missed calls every few minutes. That upset her because it was what Dan used to do and something she used to henpeck him about.
After two hours Vinnie hadn’t called, and the thought crossed her mind that he never would. Her smile was a fading memory. It was time to accept that perhaps this avenue of investigation hadn’t worked out and she needed to go back to the drawing board and try another route.
She returned to the apartment, opened her laptop, and thought about other ways to contact Vinnie. Jonathan had told her he was living at his parents’ old house somewhere near Bakersfield. That made sense as it was the next big place down from Fresno, so she checked out the online map again, staring at the various place names, hoping one of them would jump out and trigger her memory, so she could tell herself that was where Vinnie had said he came from, meaning this was where he was now living.
It didn’t happen. She got nothing.
She was torn between taking a break and having something to eat, or persevering with another brainstorming session. But it was becoming tiring; her initial vigor was starting to drain away.
That was when the video chat window opened. Someone was trying to contact her.
The name was Chloe1990. It was odd. And worrying. And exciting.
She answered.
A poisoned grin filled the laptop screen.
“Hello, lollipop,” Vinnie said.
Chapter 29
The contact from Vinnie was the break – the shred of hope – that Cath had spent the past day praying for. The tightness around her chest made speaking difficult, but she tried to relax, and told herself that Vinnie could see her and it was important to appear calm even if she wasn’t.
