“No, you’re not. What if he leaves while you’re gone?”
“We will figure it out. It’s six o’clock. He’s probably eating dinner like a normal person. I, however, haven’t eaten all day. Do you want a sandwich or not?”
“Veggie, please. Munster or provolone. No mustard or vinegar. And chips. Salt and pepper, if they have them.” Veggie sandwich with no mustard? This man had something wrong with him. He may as well have requested a mayo and lettuce on white bread.
“Call me if there’s movement.” I let myself out and walked in the opposite direction of Mr. FBI’s house. I had a strong suspicion that he would recognize me if he saw me.
The neighborhood ended at a big main street. I consulted my phone, then turned right. The strip mall was just around the corner. When I got there, it was hard to miss the deli. It was the only non-corporate business in the entire strip. That had to be a good sign. I went in and got Henry’s lame ass sandwich. I felt judged. Then I ordered mine and redeemed myself. I paid in cash, obviously. Then again, I was a drug dealer. I always paid in cash.
When I was walking back, my phone rang. Shit. I glanced at the readout. I was expecting Henry and a shit storm. Instead, I saw Laurel’s name and had a mini panic attack. I debated answering it or letting it go to voice mail. I was paralyzed by the decision. It went to voice mail all on its own before I could decide. I picked up the pace. Henry would know what to do.
The Suburban was right where I left it. Not that I was surprised. I climbed in and handed Henry his paper wrapped joke. He set it down without taking his eyes off the house.
“Thanks. No movement while you were gone.”
“Laurel called me.”
“What?” Henry finally turned away from the house. “Did you answer? What did she say?”
“I didn’t answer. She left a voice mail.”
“Did you listen to it?”
“No.” I pulled out the phone and hit the voice mail.
“Hey, Cash. This is Laurel. Sorry for the note this morning. I had a super awesome, fantastic time with you. I’d love to go out again. I’ll be waiting by the phone, hoping your voice mail allows for monologues.” She laughed at her joke. “Anyway. Call me.”
Time had been limping along until Laurel had shown up on my doorstep the night before. And then it stopped. It was as if I’d been walking through water all day. Fighting to keep moving. I couldn’t reconcile the woman I’d been with last night with the woman I’d been investigating all afternoon. But at the sound of her voice, her perfect words, it all coalesced. That voice mail had been tailored to me, to us. That voice mail was bait. Laid to make the taker mad.
Time began to move again. I would not be her prey anymore.
“Well?” Henry asked.
“She wants to meet.”
“What do you want to do?”
I tossed the phone onto the seat and picked up my sandwich. “I want to eat my sandwich. Then I’m going to read all her reports on me. Then we’re going to find a way to take this bitch down.”
“That’s my boy.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Henry’s laptop was frustratingly small. Each photo needed to be enlarged, clicked, dragged to be read properly. We had been sitting outside of Mr. FBI’s house for two hours. I’d made my way through three-quarters of Laurel’s reports. They were uninteresting. The first few were detailed. It was strange to read about myself in the third person. Some time around our barbecue, the reports shifted. She included less detail. The report after Nate was attacked was rich with information about Jerome, but included almost nothing about me. Nate was only a single line. I wanted to believe it was intentional, but that would be naïve. She didn’t care about me. She wasn’t protecting me. She had simply found a better target.
Every time my resolve weakened, I replayed the voice mail in my mind. It became a temporary obsession. When my focus wandered, that’s where it went. “Super awesome, fantastic…hoping your voice mail allows for monologues.”
The final report was from yesterday afternoon. Henry was mentioned by name for the first time. He wasn’t going to like that. But everything about him in the report was speculation. It didn’t seem that she had made the connection between him and the files Nate had showed her. That was good. Her case against all of us was weak as hell. No wonder she had called me back. No wonder she had fucked me. What better way to gain my trust?
It wasn’t a betrayal. It was her intention all along. You couldn’t betray someone you didn’t care for. She didn’t care about me. “Super awesome, fantastic…” It was cultivated.
“You making any headway?” Henry asked.
“I finished reading the reports. She doesn’t have much of a case.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“She mentioned your name in the last one, though.”
“What?” He seemed pissed.
“Don’t worry. She doesn’t have shit on you.”
“Let me see.” Henry rolled over the seat. “You watch for a while.”
I climbed into his vacated spot and picked up the camera. Mr. FBI was having a very boring night. Or maybe it just looked that way from outside his very boring house. Every once in a while, someone would walk by one of the windows upstairs. It looked like he had a wife and two kids, maybe three. But that assumption was based purely on the height of the little ones running around upstairs. This was going to be a long night.
It took Henry half the time it took me to read the reports. He was skimming for information about himself. Nice to know he cared about Nate and me. Every so often he would make an angry exclamation, but he mostly kept it quiet.
“You told her about me.” Technically, Nate had forced my hand. But I didn’t think Henry would care about technically. And there was no way I was going to throw Nate on Henry’s mercy.
“I didn’t know she was a fucking cop.” I couldn’t be blamed for that shit.
“But you told her about me.”
“Yeah, well you’re the one who gave her your name.”
He went back to pouting and reading the reports. When he finished, he was barely keeping it together. I would have offered comfort, but I didn’t have any.
“Call her.”
“And say what?” I asked.
“Tell her you want to meet.”
“And then what?” This was clearly not a well thought out plan.
“We’re going to kill her.”
“What?” I turned and stared at him. That was a leap. He wanted to kill her?
“Listen, I know it’s not your style or scene or whatever, but this makes it all go away,” he said like it was the most rational course of action.
“No.” I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation.
“Come on, man. She used you. She’s a cop. It’s not like any of it was real.”
I hated that he was right. About being used, not about killing Laurel. “We don’t kill people. That’s not how we operate. Hell, we don’t even beat people up. We’re drug dealers. It doesn’t mean we’re violent.”
“You don’t have to be the one to kill her.” His tone suggested that I was a timid child who needed to be coached. As if he wasn’t discussing murder. “I’ll handle it. All you have to do is make the call.” Yeah, no big deal. Just a murder call.
“It’s not happening. Let it go.”
“Cash—”
“No, that’s final. It’s not up for discussion. It’s not on the table. It’s not a fucking option. We are not killing anyone. So fucking drop it.” That pretty much covered it.
“Fine.” He was disgusted. “What do you propose then?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s fucking helpful.”
“This situation is delicate. We can’t just fix it. It’s not going to easily go away.” As if killing someone was easy. Even that plan had holes everywhere. Who did he think the cops were going to look at when Laurel turned up dead? It wasn’t going to be perfect Henry, the upstanding sher
iff. It was going to be my ass. Actually, he was probably fully aware of that. He didn’t want me to make it out unscathed. He wanted me tied up like a loose end. No wonder it was such a perfect plan for him.
He pouted and ruminated. “Okay, what if we offer her Jerome?”
“We don’t have Jerome to offer.”
“You said yourself that her case against you is weak. But we both read the reports. She talked a lot about Jerome in the later ones. And you said she had his file.”
“But we don’t know how strong her case against him is.” I was playing devil’s advocate. The idea had merit.
“That’s what you offer. I’m sure you can provide all of the evidence she needs to nail his ass. It’s kind of perfect, actually. Two birds and all that. Get Jerome off our asses and redirect the feds.”
“So how do we go about it?”
“Call her. Arrange a date. Once you’ve got her in person, tell her you know she’s a cop and you can help her get Jerome.” He made it sound simple.
I would need leverage, but I had it. I was sure the Sac PD would frown on her having slept with me. Plus the golden Kallen clan wouldn’t appreciate a story that tarnished them. Of course, Henry didn’t need to know all that. I picked up my phone. “Okay.”
“Whoa. Hold up. Where are you going to meet her? How do I monitor you to make sure you’re safe?” If I didn’t have fifteen years of experience with the man, I would have thought he cared. Of course, I did have that experience so I knew he just wanted to control the situation.
“I’ll pick a restaurant. You’ll go in and get a table next to us. No big deal.”
“She’s met me. Nate too. She’ll know something is up if one of us is there.”
“True. Suggestions?” I asked.
“I know a little restaurant just north of Mansion Flats. It’s a ramen house. Lots of windows. You know up Sixteenth Street?” I nodded. I knew the area. They were gentrifying, but the neighborhood was still a work in progress. “There’s a gym I used to go to across the street. I can go in there and watch. You’ll keep your phone on speaker so I can hear your conversation.” His answer was a little quick for my taste, but that was Henry. He cased any joint he went into. It probably made him a good cop. It definitely made him a good criminal.
“Works for me.” I pulled up Laurel’s name and hit call before I could change my mind. It also didn’t give me time to prepare myself. That was stupid.
“Hey.” Laurel’s voice was smooth and familiar in all the wrong ways.
“Hey.” Even that was a struggle to get out.
“What are you up to?” she asked. My mind went blank. “Cash?” Henry smacked my arm.
“Yeah?”
“What’s up?”
“Oh, you know. Living the dream.”
She laughed. “What are you up to tonight?”
“Taking you out to dinner?”
“I like where this is going.”
“There’s a little restaurant up Sixteenth. Ramen house. I’ve been wanting to check it out.”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll text you the address. Meet me in thirty?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Cool.”
After we hung up, I realized my entire body was shaking. I was tired of Henry seeing my weakness, so I willed it away.
“Good job.” Henry nodded approvingly. “I just texted Nate and told him to meet me at the gym. He will have plenty of time to get in place.”
“If this goes south, make sure Nate gets out of there.”
“Of course,” Henry said. He pulled up Yelp and read the address for me to text Laurel. I did.
We climbed back into the front seat and headed back to midtown. This had to be a better plan than sitting in a suburban neighborhood and staking out an FBI agent. As Henry drove, I tried to prepare myself. I tried to come up with the right things to say. Should I out her right away? Or maybe bring up Jerome and some big deal I had with him to entice her? Quickly, I realized there was no way to plan this. I’d just have to wing it and hope for the best. The alternative wasn’t an option. It wasn’t just my ass. It was Nate’s and Clive’s. Henry’s too, I guessed. This situation was fucked, but I wasn’t going to let Henry commit a murder. That was extreme. Henry talked big, but he wasn’t great at acknowledging anything beyond fact and logic. But the guilt would break him. I hoped.
Not that Henry’s suggestion had endeared him to me. Whatever happened, however this turned out, I wasn’t going to be working with him anymore. He had jumped to the fast option too easily. And he had been far too comfortable with suggesting that we kill someone. It was a little frightening.
I wasn’t thinking about the fact that it was Laurel he wanted to kill. I was doing my best to not think of Laurel at all. Thinking about her hurt. I didn’t want pain or anger to alter my judgment. I had to be cold and manipulative.
We merged onto 50. Henry took the 16th Street exit. We were getting closer. This was wrong. Our entire plan was idiotic. I should have called Nate and gotten his opinion. Murder boy obviously wasn’t thinking with a clear head. Maybe Nate would have had a better idea. I definitely should have called Clive. I should have called him hours ago. But I didn’t want to worry him, and I didn’t want to talk to him until I had something substantial to say. I knew Henry wouldn’t want to wait while I called them. Maybe that was why this felt uncomfortable.
I almost told Henry to stop the car. I almost told him twenty times. We worked our way up the alphabet. Each turn we didn’t take felt like a missed opportunity. Each time, I lost my nerve. I didn’t have a decent reason other than this felt wrong. Henry didn’t go in for feelings.
We crossed under the last set of train tracks bordering midtown. The buildings here were gorgeous brick warehouses. They had become obsolete in the last half a century as the train station became larger. Newer, uglier warehouses spread west where real estate was cheaper and hipsters weren’t interested in the architecture. Henry turned left at one of the side streets. The warehouses on either side still had loading docks, but the interiors had clearly been gutted. What would this be in a year or five? Pretty boutiques that sold arts and crafts under the guise of art. Something resembling culture, but too cheap to follow through.
We took another turn and the warehouses looked less renovated. Henry’s plan was looking less and less thought out. Why had I agreed to it? I realized that I didn’t have to follow Henry’s plan. I didn’t have to tell Laurel anything. Suddenly, it felt easy. I would go in the restaurant, share a meal with the woman, and that was that. I could give Henry multitudes of reasons why I had backed off. It didn’t matter. It was a stall tactic.
I stretched out and enjoyed the last few blocks of our drive. I had a plan. A non-murder plan.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Henry pulled into a parking lot next to a dark building. I didn’t see any restaurant. Or a gym. I saw two abandoned warehouses and asphalt that hadn’t been attended in years.
“Where is the restaurant?” I asked. It was a dumb question.
Henry sighed. Then he clocked me. Harder than I’d ever been hit before. It was the kind of blow that takes little pockets of your vision and turns them black and sparkly. I shook my head, but that made things spin. I was still reeling from the blow when he grabbed my hands and shoved them up. He pulled the zip tie closed around my wrists and the grip handle above the door before I figured out that he was restraining me. The zip tie was tight. Cutting off circulation tight.
“I’m sorry. It didn’t need to be this way,” Henry said.
“What the fuck? Let me go, goddammit.” I pulled at the zip tie, but it only dug into my flesh. “What the fuck, man? What are you doing?”
“It’s okay. I’m going to take care of it.”
I started yelling, which was probably stupid. He clocked me again. I closed my eyes against the beating in my skull and concentrated on not vomiting.
“Don’t bother screaming. No one can hear you. And if they do hea
r you and come running, I’ll have to kill you too. So calm the fuck down.”
I calmed the fuck down. Or I stopped yelling. Same thing to him, I guess. “Please don’t do this.”
Henry climbed into the backseat and rummaged through his gear. “I know it sucks. But you’ll thank me later. I promise.”
“It’s not about me, Henry. It’s about you. You’re my friend. I can’t let you become a murderer.” It was a lie, but it sounded good. If he let me go, I was going to thoroughly kick his ass.
“It’s okay. I can do this for you.” How kind of him.
“But I don’t want you to do it for me.” I tried to pull on the zip tie again, but it got me nowhere.
“That’s what you think now. Trust me. This is for the best.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder and climbed back in the front seat. “I’ll be back. You’ll be okay. We will be okay.”
And he got out of the car.
I yanked and twisted at my bonds. Henry walked along the side of the building we were parked next to, then disappeared around the corner. He was holding a handgun at his side.
“Fucking douchebag motherfucker. I’m going to kill you,” I said. But no one was there to hear me.
What if he came back and decided to kill me for good measure? What if he offed Nate too? Nate could have been walking into a trap. I needed to warn him. And Laurel.
Fucking Laurel. I hated her. And I might have loved her. Even if I did hate her, I couldn’t let Henry kill her. Which may or may not have had to do with maybe loving her. I tried to hold on to the hate, which was potent. Maybe it would make our problems go away like Henry said.
No. I couldn’t let her die. I could hate her alive just fine.
I needed to get out of here. My wrists were already bloody and the zip tie wasn’t giving. Maybe Nate would see the Suburban. Maybe her FBI buddies were following her. But maybe wasn’t enough. I needed to call Nate. But that was hard with my hands bound above my head and my phone in my pocket.
Unless I could get my phone to call Nate.
“Hey, Siri, text Nate Xiao.” I waited to see if she could hear me. There was a muffled tone of acquiescence.
Cash Braddock Page 21
