Scar Tissue (Mr. Finn Book 2)

by Trace Conger

  “Don’t mention it.” I said shaking his hand. “We’re all allowed one fuck-up per decade. Of course you’re going to have to work really hard to top this one.” I smiled.

  He looked down at the ground and then back up at me. He started to say something else, but he caught himself. “Take it easy, Finn. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again.” At the moment, I didn’t know if we’d ever see each other again, but fate is a fickle bitch, so I wouldn’t discount it. I nodded, and watched as Daryl walked into the bus terminal.

  “He’s kind of pathetic,” I said to Connor.

  “Isn’t that pathetic guy sleeping with your wife?”

  “Ex-wife,” I said.

  “You going to do something about that?”

  “It’s not my decision to make.”

  Connor nodded from the back seat. “Can I have the wheel back now?”

  CONNOR FOUND JAMIE’S ADDRESS IN the GPS history and drove us back to East Sycamore Street in Morgantown, Indiana.

  “What are we going to do with that money?” he said pulling into her parking lot.

  “What do you think we should do with it? I feel like Jamie should get most of it. It’s her money.”

  “She said she didn’t want it.”

  “That’s when it came with strings,” I said. “Now that Holbrook is out of the picture, I don’t see any reason for her not to want at least part of it.”

  “What about the Banker’s other clients? What if they come after her looking for their share? If we tracked her down, it’s possible they could too.”

  “I’ve got an idea of how to plug that dyke.” I grabbed the Post-It pad and pen from the console. I scribbled a name on the note, plucked it from the pad, and stuck it inside my back pocket.

  I got out of the car to find Jamie sitting on her balcony with a cup in her hand. When she saw me, she disappeared into her unit.

  “You’re cool with whatever comes out of this?” I said. “She might take it all.”

  “Not to sound like a corny piece of shit, Finn, but I really don’t care about the money. It’s hers, and she can do whatever she wants with it. Of course, if she wants to give it away, I won’t turn it down.”

  “Is this where you tell me that the time we got to spend together was payment enough?”

  “Fuck no,” said Connor. “You’ve worked up quite a debt. That pool chlorine alone cost me a few hundred bucks.” He smiled. “But we’ll call it even if you promise to keep Dad out of trouble.”

  I shook my head and laughed. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with those terms.”

  Jamie emerged from her front door and walked down the breezeway stairs to the parking lot.

  “Here goes nothing,” I said. I opened the lift gate, yanked the suitcase from the back and wheeled it over to where she stood.

  “I assume, since you’re here, everything went well,” she said.

  “All went according to plan.” I smiled.

  “You sound surprised.”

  “That’s because nothing ever goes according to plan.” I kicked the suitcase with my foot. “As far as I’m concerned this is your money. Holbrook won’t be looking for it.”

  “What about the others? What if they come looking for it?”

  I pulled the note from my pocket and handed it to her. “If anyone comes looking for it, you just hand them this piece of paper and they’ll be on their way.”

  She opened it. “Who’s Micah Dunbar?”

  “No one you need to worry about, but he’s got the rest of your father’s money. I doubt anyone will ever connect you and your father to the Banker, but in the off-chance that they do, that’s your get-out-of-jail-free card. Give ‘em that and they’ll go away.”

  “I’ve never heard of him.”

  “Anyone who finds you will know who he is, and by that time, they won’t want to mess with him.”

  She looked at the suitcase. “How much is in there?”

  “The other half of the $5 million. That’ll buy a lot of sewing needles.”

  She glanced up at her unit. “The other half is still on my sewing room floor.”

  “That’s probably not the safest place to keep it,” I said.

  “I don’t know what else to do with it.”

  “I might be able to help you with that.” I opened my wallet and handed Jamie a business card. “Here’s someone who’d be willing to help you do whatever you want with it.”

  She read the card. “A savings and loan?”

  I shrugged. “It beats storing it on the floor. Or in the back of your father’s truck.”

  “That it does.” She scratched her head. “It would help me start up my business. And I’d give some of it away. That might scrub my conscious of all the shitty things the original owners did to make it.”

  I nodded.

  “But, I don’t want it all.” She pushed the suitcase back toward me. “Why don’t you and your brother take this one? You deserve it. I’ll sleep better knowing it won’t be funding criminal activity.”

  “I can’t promise that,” I said. “Especially as far as Connor is concerned. But I won’t turn it down.”

  “Take it then. Consider it a thank-you gift. For helping me put all this to rest.”

  “I feel like we caused more harm than good, bursting in and threatening you at gunpoint.”

  “That’s probably going to give me nightmares for a while.” She cracked a nervous smile. “But I guess it all worked out.” She looked at the suitcase again. “And you’re sure Holbrook is dead.”

  “I’d bet $5 million on it.”

  She looked past me at the Escalade and then reached out a hand. “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.” I shook her hand and walked back to the Escalade pulling the suitcase behind me. I turned back toward her condo. “Good luck with the sewing,” I said, but she was already gone.

  I left Jamie’s condo with two-and-a-half million more than I thought I would. From the look in Connor’s eyes, he was glad to see it.

  Forty Eight

  CONNOR AND I WERE HALFWAY back to Cincinnati when my cell phone buzzed.

  “Where the hell are you?” said Albert. “I’m sitting in Union Terminal and I need a ride.”

  I looked at my watch. “We can be there in about an hour.”

  “We? Your brother still with you?”

  I clicked on the speakerphone. “How was Maine, Dad?” said Connor. “I thought you might be calling for some help.”

  “Wasn’t nothing Mitch and I couldn’t handle.”

  “So you handled it?” I said. “No need to worry about Ollie Stoner anymore?”

  “Not until he gets out of prison in another decade or two.”

  “I thought the whole reason for going up there was to get rid of him, not kick the can down the road again.”

  “Relax. Ollie’s damn near as old as me. The only way he’s rolling out of that prison is on a gurney inside a black zippered bag.” Albert paused. “What about you too? Still chasing your tails?”

  “No, we’re just heading back from Indianapolis,” said Connor.

  “So you found him?”

  “We found him.”

  “Is it worth talking about?”

  Connor smiled. “Probably not,” he said. “Maybe we’ll swap war stories over drinks sometime.”

  “All right then. Get here as fast as you can. A train depot isn’t anyplace for an old man. And try not to get lost.” Albert hung up before I had a chance to respond.

  “You have to put up with that every day?” said Connor.

  “Every. Damn. Day.”

  “You’re a better man than me. I would’ve had him committed a long time ago.”

  “I’ve thought about it, but he’d just escape and hunt us both down. Plus, I kinda like having him around. He’s great with Becca.”

  “I’m sure he is.” Connor motioned to the back seat. “You going to tell him about the money?”

  “No way in hell.”

>   CONNOR AND I STEPPED THROUGH the front doors of Union Terminal and walked into the large rotunda to find Albert sipping a coffee, his legs propped up on his suitcase. He looked at his watch as we sat down.

  “Don’t get comfortable,” he said. “We’re not staying.”

  My phone buzzed, and I pulled it from my pocket. Brooke had sent me a text reminding me about Becca’s basketball game that night at seven o’clock.

  “Connor, you want to see your niece swing her pom-poms?” I said. “She’s cheering at a second-grade basketball game tonight.”

  “Second-grade basketball? That’s a thing?”

  “They don’t keep score,” said Albert. “Waste of time.”

  Connor laughed. “I’d love to, but I can’t. I’ve got to get back to Boston. Got my own problems, you know.”

  “I understand,” I said. “Try not to go so long between visits.”

  “The highways run both ways, little brother.”

  “So they do.”

  He smiled and slammed a fist into my shoulder. “Maybe next time we can get together and not kill anyone.”

  “I don’t want to break up such a nice moment,” said Albert. “But I’ve got some Longmire episodes to catch up on, so if one of you girls would get my bag, we can be on our way.” Albert tossed his coffee cup into a nearby trashcan and headed toward the front door, leaving his suitcase behind him.

  “You sure you don’t want to have him committed?” said Connor, grabbing the suitcase. “We could find a nice place on the way home.”

  “I’ll consider it.” Connor and I followed Albert as he kicked open one of Union Terminal’s heavy art-deco doors and strolled into the parking lot.

  CONNOR DROPPED US OFF AT our apartment. Albert hugged him like he’d see him again soon and disappeared into the apartment, leaving Connor and I to say our piece.

  I opened Holbrook’s suitcase and divided the haul down the middle. One and a quarter million each. Not a bad payday, and a lot more than I expected when Brooke called me that Sunday night and asked me to get Daryl out of trouble. I’d planned on doing it for free, but the money was a nice bonus. Up until this point, I mostly broke even on the cases I took, usually generating enough cash to keep me and Albert going to the next gig. This should keep things moving for a long time.

  The first order of business would be to get the hell out of our apartment for greener and more permanent pastures, but I had plenty of time to worry about that tomorrow. The only thing I worried about now was getting a shower, getting dressed, and making it to Becca’s basketball game.

  Neither of us were the sentimental type, so a good-bye and a handshake was all it took to get Connor back on the road. I watched him climb back into the Escalade, slip his green baseball cap on his head, and drive back into his own life. I was grateful to have shared the last ten days with him, and hoped we’d cross paths again soon, but given what I knew about my brother, I had no idea when. Considering the last time I saw him was at my mother’s funeral, I hoped he wouldn’t wait for Albert to punch out before making it back home. Death had a funny way of bringing the Harding boys together.

  I wheeled my half of Holbrook’s cash into my bedroom closet before Albert had a chance to ask any questions. I stashed it in the back, next to a few suits that rarely saw the light of day, closed the closet door, and headed for the shower.

  Forty Nine

  FAT SAM PARKED THE NAVY blue Ford Expedition across from the home on Fort View Place in Mount Adams. A street lamp clicked on overhead as he climbed out of the vehicle and slammed the driver’s door shut. He opened the lift gate and pulled two white cardboard file boxes from the back. Balancing one of the boxes on his enormous thigh, he stacked one on top of the other, and then smacked a button to close the lift gate before he stepped away from the SUV.

  He checked for traffic and then crossed the street. He lumbered up the sidewalk to the front door, wedged the boxes between his thigh and the doorframe, and then fumbled to slide the key into the dead bolt. He turned the key, pushed the door open with a massive shoulder, and carried the boxes into the foyer. His size-sixteen Adidas sneaker searched for the door to kick it shut when someone pushed him from behind. His forehead plowed into the smooth foyer wall, the stacked file boxes buckled between the wall and his gut, and the business end of a handgun pressed against the back of his head.

  “Hello Sam.”

  “You again?” He recognized the voice.

  The man behind him shut the door. “I’m not here to kill you this time either, but if you turn around you’ll be dead before those boxes hit the ground.”

  “You find Finn Harding?” said Sam.

  “I found him.”

  “And?”

  “Here’s the deal. You’re going to stop looking for him. As far as you’re concerned, he’s dead. You can keep your money.”

  “What about the Nolans? They’re still looking for him.”

  “Not any more.”

  Sam shifted the boxes in his arms. “You’re just going to let him off?”

  “Here’s how this works. Finn Harding is no longer a threat to your Dark Brokerage business. He’s out, so you don’t have to worry about him.”

  “Okay.”

  “You don’t know who I am, but you do know that I’m on your distribution list. That means I’m going to receive any communications you send out. I know you can’t scrub your list, or you’ll lose all your clients, which isn’t smart business. So, I’ll continue to monitor your operation through your updates. If you send any communications that even remotely reference Finn Harding, I’ll come back. And next time, we won’t chat. We clear?”

  “We’re clear.” Sam groaned and repositioned his grip on the boxes.

  “Good. Sam, you’re still alive because I believed you when you said you didn’t authorize the hit on Finn. That Bishop set that up in advance.”

  “That’s right, he did set it up.”

  “Don’t make me regret that decision.”

  “I won’t.” Sam re-gripped the boxes again.

  “Plus, I’m still a client of the Dark Brokerage, so I have a vested interest in you getting that site back up and running.”

  “I’m trying. Lots to do.”

  “Okay then, I think we’re finished here. I want you to close your eyes and count down from sixty. I’m going to leave this door open, and if you turn around I’ll plug you.”

  “Okay.” Fat Sam counted down from sixty, and when he was finished, he let the boxes fall to the ground. Then he closed the door without turning around.

  Fifty

  ALBERT AND I PARKED IN the Cincinnati Catholic Academy’s lot and walked into the gilded lobby. We strolled down the hall and stepped into the gym. Becca stood on the side of the basketball court, dressed in her cheerleading outfit, a red-and-gold tank top with thick shoulder straps and a matching pleated skirt that went down to her knees. It looked too short to me. She saw us come through the double metal doors and waved, almost taking out a teammate with her scarlet pom-pom.

  After waving back at Becca, I scanned the home-team bleachers for Brooke and Daryl, who were supposed to be saving our seats. Albert saw Brooke first and pointed. I followed his finger and saw Brooke standing with her arm over her head waving to us. No Daryl.

  Albert and I walked up the rickety wooden bleachers. Brooke and I hugged each other and we sat down on the uncomfortable seats. A moment later I saw Jennifer walking toward us. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail and it dangled down to the center of her back. She wore jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt with the school logo, a maroon-and-white eagle. The shirt was tight enough to turn heads, but it didn’t come off as though she was looking for attention. She’d get it anyway.

  When Jennifer reached us, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around me, and I felt her breasts press against my chest. I would have hugged her tighter had Brooke not been standing a foot away.

  Albert cleared his throat, and I could feel my ex-wife’s stare burning a h
ole through the back of my head.

  “Who’s this?” said Brooke. She seemed much calmer than I expected, given the impromptu meeting.

  “Brooke, this is Jennifer. Jennifer, this is my ex-wife, Brooke.”

  Jennifer extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You as well,” said Brooke. She offered a smile that looked genuine on the surface, but, like a volcano, bubbled with death and destruction underneath. “Why don’t you join us?”

  Jennifer looked at me with an expression that said “sorry,” and then turned back to Brooke. “I’d love to.”

  “Hello Albert,” said Jennifer. He winked toward her, elbowed me in the ribs, and leaned in. “You're fucked, son,” he whispered.

  “I have a feeling you’re right about that.”

  I hesitated to make eye contact with Brooke, and once I did, I instantly regretted it. Her demeanor was calm, but her eyes looked like sharp, narrow cuts in a jack-o-lantern. I imagined that’s how a pitcher looked before intentionally drilling a fastball into a batter’s hip.

  Brooke took her seat, Albert sat next to her, and I sat between Albert and Jennifer. I wrapped my arm around Jennifer’s waist. “That went well,” I said.

  “Sorry about that. For some reason I didn’t think she’d be here.” Jennifer turned and waved to someone sitting a few rows away. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “My boss is over there and I should probably say hello.” Jennifer slid down the wooden bench to talk to a middle-aged woman holding a maroon-and-white pennant.

  Brooke leaned behind Albert and slapped me on the shoulder. “What sorority house did you find her in?”

  Albert laughed. “Cut him some slack. She’s a nice girl.”

  “How old is she?”

  “She’s twenty five,” I said.

  “Jesus Christ, Finn. What are you doing with a twenty-five-year-old?”

  “I know what I’d be doing with a twenty-five-year-old,” said Albert.