And Leo, his best friend, was alive. But only barely. The buckshot tore Leo’s tiny midsection, his shirt shredded and guzzling blood in rivulets. Leo caught Ryatt’s wet eyes and tried to giggle, but it became a labored wheezing fit. His mousy face contorted one last time, in a demonic grimace, before the movements halted.
Ryatt stood straight, angling the Desert Eagle at Leo’s dead murderer on the floor.
And he pulled the trigger. He pulled it many times, until the clip couldn’t supply metal to feed his rage.
The man’s head was obliterated. Almost flattened. His blood and bones, brains and hair, they all dotted the lower sections of the walls and Ryatt’s pants.
Taking one last look at his late friend, Ryatt ejected the clip and pocketed it. Then he marched towards Bugsy’s door, fed a new mag and chambered a round. But he knew full well that all the metal in the world would not be enough to settle his score with the rotten bastard inside.
“Time to end this.” Ryatt kicked the door open.
Chapter 46
May 13, 2019. 09:20 A.M.
Gabriel parked the Camaro beside Bugsy’s peripheral wall. He grabbed the shopping bag on the passenger seat, which contained a few new blankets, and exited the vehicle. He hopped onto the Camaro’s hood, then onto the top. The metal sheet caved, but Bill wouldn’t mind.
Looking around the avenue, he threw the spongy cloth over the spiraling barbed wires. They got hooked by the spikes and provided a comfortable ingress.
Gabriel wiped his palms across his jeans and leapt. His belly landed on the blankets, and he swung his legs over to the other side. Hugging the blankets, he looked down. A seven-foot drop. He loosened his ankles and legs, before letting go. As his feet touched the grass, he neutralized the force by maneuvering his knees as springs.
In a wink, he dived under the nearby shrubbery and observed the mansion from its cover. The CCTV camera above the front door was hanging down; bits of plastic and glass were strewn directly below.
Gabriel waited for a few moments. No gunshots. No shouting. Not even a TV.
Drawing his Glock, he ducked his head between his shoulders and crept to the door.
It’s a weird looking lock.
Gabriel slowly wrapped his fingers around the doorknob.
An explosion shattered the quietness.
He jumped to the hedge flanking the door and crouched into a protective huddle. Then he pointed his gun… at nothing. He frantically turned left to right and right to left.
Nothing whatsoever.
Auditory hallucination? Fat chance. Gabriel never suffered from psychosis.
And then his stomach burned in searing pain. As if someone stabbed him with a red-hot knife.
“Mother…” Gabriel grabbed the hurt. It felt wet and sticky. And warm.
Dizzy, he looked down. A red blot was slowly spreading over his white shirt.
Chapter 47
May 13, 2019. 09:15 A.M.
Bugsy was sitting behind his table. Fat and sick, he looked like he was undergoing dialysis. And a pair of prosthetic arms jutted out from underneath his T-shirt.
Bugsy’s hideous face curled in confusion. “H-how?”
Without answering, Ryatt strolled to the table. “How? I thought you always wanted to know the why.”
The surprise on Bugsy’s face dissolved, exposing calmness. “Oh, I figured out the why when I visited your home,” Bugsy said. “Your mom. Iris…”
Ryatt’s heart paused. He could feel his skin prickle and sweat exit his pores, and legs turn into noodles.
“Ironic name aside, she’s one iron-spirited bitch. Didn’t make a sound when we dry drowned her.”
Ryatt’s strength returned. “You w-waterboarded my mom?”
“Not only that.” Bugsy laughed. “You want to know what I did to her forty-two years ago?”
“No!” Ryatt yelled. He had avoided thinking about those rumors on the streets even back then. Gun pointed at Bugsy, Ryatt said, “Shut the fuck up!”
Bugsy’s beady eyes bore into Ryatt’s skull, challenging him. His tongue wet his lips, mimicking an anxious viper. “I raped her.”
Ryatt shut his ears. “You’re lying!”
Bugsy frowned. “You know what? Yes. That’s not the truth.”
Ryatt let go, relieved.
Bugsy smirked. “We raped your mom.”
“Wh-what?” Ryatt’s world crashed around him; his pistol dropped to the floor.
“Come on. Don’t get soft now. I’m not scared of death. Not after what you did to me. I clung to my life so that I could hurt you, and I’ve done that. Doesn’t matter if I die,” Bugsy said. “I’m an old, crippled dog with no barks left in me.”
A gunshot snapped Ryatt out of it. Did it just come from the front door? Bugsy’s back-up? Ryatt did not care if he lived or died. But he needed to punish Bugsy.
And fast.
Desperation hastening his actions, Ryatt locked the door and looked around the room. A minute later, he’d found a corkscrew, a knife, some pins. No, these were too lame.
Just as he decided to make do, he spotted the perfect devices of atonement, which could bring utmost misery.
Taking a breather, Ryatt said, “Know what? You may not have a bark left but you gotta have a lot of painful howls in you…” He ambled to the fireplace. Sitting on its ledge were two bottles of lighter fluid and a match box. “And I’m gonna squeeze the last of them out.”
As Ryatt pocketed them all and neared him, Bugsy’s eyes widened in terror. “Help!”
Leaning over the table, Ryatt grabbed Bugsy and dragged the pathetic sack of potatoes across the shiny wood. When he dropped him on the plush carpet, one of his prosthetic arms came loose but the other stayed fastened.
Ryatt squirted the liquid onto Bugsy’s head. Few seconds later, he emptied the first bottle which he hurled at Bugsy’s face before pulling the second one out.
When that was done, he let the old meat soak in naphtha and took a tour.
He came across an old phonograph on the showcase, its bronze speaker elegantly craning its neck. A dozen gramophone records were stacked beside it.
“Which is the best?” Ryatt asked.
“Help!”
Ryatt traced his finger over them and picked one at random. The disk said Ana María Martínez - Violetas Imperiales.
He gently fixed it on the turntable and wound the hand crank, after which he placed the stylus on the disk. An astounding soprano from an extremely good singer filled the room.
“Please…” Bugsy cried. “Take that record player. Worth millions in auction.”
“Millions?” Ryatt asked.
“Yeah. It’s from Italy. More than one hundred years old. Survived two world wars.”
That got Ryatt thinking. It was more money than he had ever robbed in his career.
“Twenty-five years ago, Thomas told me to give up robbery. I should have listened to that big old fool. But instead, I told him— no, I promised him that we’d stop before I got anyone hurt. Now I’ve hurt him, Leo, even my mom, the only people who ever meant anything to me.” Ryatt dabbed at the corner of his eye. “I robbed even when I was relatively rich, not because I needed to but I wanted to.” Ryatt sniffled and retrieved the match box. “Greed. That’s my sin. But it’s not me who paid the price for it, but the people I love.”
“No more sinning.” Ryatt struck a match and flicked it. “No more suffering.”
The blaze engulfed Bugsy with a satisfying swoosh. Screeching helplessly, he tried to roll, but it was impossible without legs and arms.
While Bugsy’s yellow skin melted and peeled in patches, exposing bright red muscle tissues within, Ana’s mesmerizing soprano brought a sense of serenity to the situation.
But with serenity came calmness, which gave Ryatt time to rest his mind. And it reiterated only one thing.
We raped your mom.
Unable to control the rage roiling inside, Ryatt grabbed the flaming prosthetic arm and ripped it out. T
he plastic scathed his hands, but he didn’t care.
Screaming, Ryatt swung the arm down onto Bugsy, smashing his face in. Then again. Then again. Each impact dug a little of Bugsy’s liquefied muscle and splashed it on the ceiling, while Ryatt repeatedly struck with the fervor of a deranged madman.
Ana climbed to a high note, the highest so far, and at exactly the same moment, Bugsy stopped twitching.
Panting, Ryatt tossed the disfigured arm onto the burning meat and sat on the table.
And he realized something. His anger was so pure and powerful that he hadn’t needed to control his stomach with his lollipop, the last of its extinct kind.
While the flames crackled and smoked, Ryatt jumped down and walked towards the door. He felt tempted to nab the rare artifact worth millions. It was not the beautiful sound that attracted him but its monetary value. Ugh. His mom was probably in unimaginable pain, his only two friends gone, and he was thinking about dollars?
Disgusted with himself, his hand pulled out the pistol with lightning speed. He shot off seven bullets, blowing the player to kingdom come.
Then he collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his palms.
As he wept and warm tears streamed down his burned, bloody hands, he literally sensed the dark claws of the demon clutching his heart yield.
But it was too late for redemption, wasn’t it?
Chapter 48
May 13, 2019. 09:32 A.M.
Embarrassed that he did not foresee the doors being booby-trapped, Gabriel had no option but to call in the cavalry. So that’s what he did. His thumb, doused in blood like all its neighboring fingers, cut the call. SSA Morgan was sending the units. ETA: five minutes.
Might as well be an eternity away. Didn’t matter, though. Gabriel heard the bloodcurdling squealing of a pig from inside. Meaning the devil finally met the end he so rightly deserved. Good. That was the reason he had come to Detroit. Now he would die gleefully. But arresting Lolly would be a cherry on top.
Gabriel heard shoes behind the door.
First he picked his Glock from the ground, then he applied pressure to the bullet wound with an elbow and pushed himself up, fighting the gravity.
“Fuck!” he cried.
The blood pooling on his midsection cascaded down his crotch, thighs, and eventually spread under his shoes.
The door flew open and a man came out, carrying someone on his shoulder, like a logger. Ryatt. That sense of déjà vu gripped Gabriel again. Ryatt was the man from Gabriel’s almost memory. But he quickly recovered from its surreal clasp. Now was not the time.
They locked eyes.
“Detective Chase.” Gabriel showed his NYPD shield. “You’re under arrest.”
“C-Chase?” Ryatt asked, shifting the guy on his shoulder, who Gabriel assumed was Leo. “Joshua’s little boy?”
“Don’t fucking say his name!” An unused energy surged through Gabriel. “My dad would have been alive if it weren’t for you.”
“Huh?” Ryatt asked, blinking like a squirrel. “I can guarantee you, son, I ain’t got no part in his death.”
“Oh, but you do,” Gabriel said. “The one you killed in there,” Gabriel motioned the Glock at Bugsy’s front door, “he ordered my dad shot dead with a Desert Eagle, just so that I would go after Lolly.”
“What the… how do you know?”
“My dad, he mentioned in his notebook that you’re extremely efficient with your gun. But the crooks who tried to kill him missed several shots in a drive-by. That’s when I began doubting. The slugs recovered from that Audi, and from my dad and his partner confirmed my suspicion. They didn’t come from your Desert Eagle.”
“Someone was trying to frame me real hard.”
“Only Bugsy had anything to gain from it, on top of being the only person—outside of law enforcement that is—who knew that Lolly used a Desert Eagle.”
Ryatt shook his head. “You don’t have to concern yourself with that no more, kid. I roasted him to a crisp.”
Gabriel smiled at Ryatt, weirdly thankful. “A classic cobra effect. The only thing I slightly regret is the fact that I pointed the Detroit Alliance in Thomas’s direction.”
“You set them after my friend?” Ryatt asked.
Gabriel nodded. “Once I uncovered your identity, Bugsy went after your mom. So imagine, what would have happened if I hadn’t given them Thomas and arrested you instead? While you rotted in jail, Bugsy would have been alive and…”
“… hurt my mom to settle his little score with me.” Ryatt looked at Gabriel, his tough world-weary face replaced with gratitude. “Thank you.”
“I did it for Mrs. Durant,” Gabriel said and held up his gun. However, his eyes darkened, aim slipped. But Ryatt, a gunslinger famous for his shooting skills, didn’t even reach for his holster when Gabriel’s gun arm slumped to his side.
“Come on, kid,” Ryatt said. “Let me help you.”
“Up yours.” Gabriel coughed and he was sure he saw pink mist before his face.
“You’re not very smart like your old man, are you?” Ryatt asked.
Gabriel smiled proudly. “Yup, that I can’t deny.”
“Why’d you come here without backup?”
“Because my dad sacrificed his life to catch you. So the infamous Lolly belonged exclusively to Detective Chase from the 122nd precinct, not the FBI or the DPD. And it doesn’t matter which Chase catches you.”
Ryatt shook his head. “Why you and your pops hate me so much? I’m not guilty, you know?”
“Not guilty?” Gabriel raised his eyebrows.
“You put a fat gazelle and a starving hyena in the same forest. A hyena’s gotta do what a hyena’s gotta do to survive. It’s nature. So we are truly faultless because we’ve been given shitty lives and no opportunities. If anyone’s guilty, it’s that unfair God.”
Gabriel laughed, but it ended in him coughing up blood again.
“You think it’s funny? Why?” Ryatt asked.
“Because that’s not how you compare things. You’re interpreting it in an arbitrary manner that reinforces your inexcusable actions.” Gabriel shook his head in contempt. He knew the whole slew of rhetoric criminals used to justify their crimes.
“What you prattling about?”
Gabriel sighed. “Truth of the matter is, you aren’t a carnivorous hyena. You are a human. An omnivore. You have the ability to eat with or without murder. Maybe it’s a test of your resolve. While Mrs. Durant didn’t let the harsh world corrupt her and passed with flying colors, you failed miserably.”
“W-what?”
“You think it’s tough being bad? No, it’s tougher being good. I’ve seen an eighty-year-old janitor. I’ve seen handicapped people winning the Olympics. I’ve seen single moms working two jobs.” Gabriel wanted to laugh but he controlled himself.
Ryatt bit the tip of his lower lip, unable to answer.
“I don’t have time for this.” Gabriel clenched his teeth, trying to concentrate. “Drop your friend and kneel!”
Ryatt didn’t drop Leo. He gently placed him down but refused to kneel. “Shoot me. I can’t hurt my mom by going to prison.”
“Should’ve thought about that when you pulled the trigger for the very first time, under that bridge.” Unable to lift his gun arm, Gabriel dragged himself towards Ryatt, his shoes drawing crimson trails behind him.
“You may be fast with a gun,” Gabriel whispered once he was near Ryatt, “but I’m fast with…”
Ryatt asked, “You’re fast with what?”
Gabriel smiled. “This.”
And he quickly slapped one end of a handcuff on Ryatt’s wrist, the other locked to Gabriel’s own.
Ryatt looked shocked, but that slowly transformed into a smile. “You don’t remember me at all, do you junior?”
Appalled, Gabriel tried to open his mouth but it was cottony. His skin felt cold and clammy, and things were getting very confusing. The blood loss must have caught up with him.
Finally, gravit
y triumphed, the handcuff being the only thing slowing his plunge. He gained some of the consciousness back from the shock of the fall, and he lay still. The gun slipped from his numb fingers.
Ryatt, whose arm was pulled down, sat Indian style on the ground, beside Gabriel.
Did Ryatt say something just now? Something important? Gabriel couldn’t recall. “I don’t think I’m gonna be conscious for long.”
“I agree. Give me the key and I’ll take you to a hospital.”
Shivering, Gabriel inserted his hand into the jeans pocket and brought out the handcuffs’ key.
“That’s it. Give it to me.” Ryatt extended his arm.
Gabriel brought his shaking hand up. When it was near his face, he put the key into his mouth and swallowed it.
The last thing Gabriel saw before passing out was Ryatt laughing and shaking his head. “You’re a stubborn bastard, just like your old man.”
Chapter 49
May 13, 2019. 10:01 A.M.
Gabriel resurfaced from oblivion, then sank again, before gasping and waking once more. Gurney rolled, overhead lights flickered past, and white uniforms huddled over him. Ghosts. Loud ghosts.
Gabriel grabbed one and pulled it close. “Lolly?”
The ghost shouted. “Sir, please don’t stress yourself. You’ve lost a lot of blood. We’re taking you to the ICU.”
“I know that,” Gabriel said. “Where’s the man who was cuffed to me?”
“W-we don’t know,” the ghost said. “You were dropped at the entrance.”
“By whom?”
“An older African American gentleman in a Camaro…”
How the hell did Ryatt manage to unlock the handcuffs? Gabriel lifted his arm. The chains were there alright, but obviously not holding the most wanted bank robber in the US.
A thin metal wire protruded from the handcuffs’ keyhole. Was… was that a paperclip?
Suddenly everything felt so utterly hopeless. All the work he and his dad had done was for nothing. Lolly had disappeared yet again. And Gabriel knew, this time he had escaped for good.
The Innocents: a cop pursues a violent felon to avenge his father Page 27
