Cut (The Devil's Due)

by Tracey Ward

  “Harley,” Lila hisses at me. She pushes my purse against my chest, shuffling me toward the front door. “We gotta go.”

  “I just want to see if—”

  “Go!” Bear shouts.

  I turn on my heel and run with Lila out of the bar. The air outside is sharp, the gravel in the parking lot crunching loudly under our hurried feet. I jump inside Lila’s old gray Corolla, the smell of oil and air fresheners hitting me hard.

  “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,” she chants to herself as she locks the door around us. “What the fuck is going on, Harley?”

  “I don’t know,” I lie. “Let’s just do what Bear says and be careful.”

  “Jesus.”

  As she pulls out of the parking lot, gravel pelts the bottom of the car. She sends a small spray up behind the back wheels when the front kiss asphalt and traction takes hold, launching us down the road, over the bridge, and into town.

  I take my phone out of my purse, immediately dialing Josh’s number.

  It rings.

  “Who are you calling?” Lila asks nervously.

  And rings.

  “Are you calling Devo?”

  And rings.

  “Hey,” Josh’s voice answers deep and smooth. “This is Josh. Leave it.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter, cancelling the call.

  “He didn’t answer? Do you think he and Kill will come home from Washington early?”

  “I don’t know, Lie.”

  “I hope they do. It’s scary that we bailed on the club. We’ve never done that before.”

  “There aren’t enough of them here to hold it down. Not with Josh, Raw, and Skeeze MIA.”

  We ride in stiff silence through town toward Lila’s apartment, a tiny one bedroom she shares with Vanessa. We pass through downtown. Down Main Street.

  We pass the town’s firetruck heading in the opposite direction; east, toward my old neighborhood. The town’s only EMTs rushing to the scene.

  Lila pulls over to let them have the road. I turn in my seat, watching them pass. Praying.

  “Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Don’t turn,” I mutter over and over again, begging them to keep going. To head out to the farms to deliver a baby or something. Anything other than what I know in my gut has happened.

  They turn left.

  They’re going to Josh’s house.

  I push the door open and roll out of the car. My feet hit the ground running.

  “Harley!” Lila cries after me.

  I don’t listen. I don’t turn back. I run as hard as I can away from her, away from common sense and safety, and I barrel headlong into the fray. Police will be there. My dad will be there. It’s the last place on the planet I should go, but I can’t stop. Not until I know Josh is alright.

  I cut left, sprinting between buildings and down alleys that I know by heart; my old route running to school with Josh, laughing and racing in the rain together. I jump the old fence behind the hardware store. I cut through the owner’s backyard on the other side. I can see the strobe of emergency lights flashing against the side of Mrs. Mershawn’s house. She’s standing in the front yard, her ancient bathrobe bathed in red and blue light, a frown etched on her old, wrinkled face. She does a double take when she sees me coming.

  “I should have known,” she hisses as I sprint by. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire!”

  I don’t bother telling her to fuck herself sideways. I save my breath as I cut hard to the left, straight into Josh’s yard.

  The Sheriff’s deputy sees me coming, immediately throwing his arms out to stop me. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down, honey.”

  I stop, breathing heavily. “Is Josh… Where’s Josh?”

  “We’re sorting things out right now. I can’t discuss what—”

  “Josh!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Josh!”

  The deputy blinks, stunned. “Stop that. Stop shouting!”

  “Josh!”

  “Stop it!”

  “Josh! Josh!”

  “For Christ’s sake, Ben!” Sherriff Cranston bellows from inside. He appears in the doorway, filling the frame with his bulging body. “What’s going on out here?”

  “She won’t stop shouting!”

  Cranston’s face softens when he sees me. “Harlow, what are you doing here?”

  I push my wild hair out of my eyes. “I’m looking for Josh.”

  “Why? What are you doing out at this hour?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “So you came looking for Josh?”

  “Who else would I turn to?”

  His face goes from soft to uncomfortable. To regretful.

  He remembers. He remembers every call he had that brought him to my house. Every time he left me behind, unable to do shit to help me because while my dad is a rotten asshole, he’s also careful. He never did anything to me that would land him on the wrong side of law.

  “Let her by, Ben,” he says quietly. “She won’t stop until she sees him.”

  I push roughly past the deputy, hurrying up the walkway to the house. The dark of the night, the flashing lights, the static on police walkies; it all comes together in a perfect package of déjà vu that makes my legs shake underneath me. I have trouble making it up the steps onto the porch, but I push past it, past the fear that rolls in my stomach like lava, and into the deeper dark inside.

  It’s a shock; nothing like I remember. It’s nearly empty, the only light coming from a bright overhead in the middle of the living room. There’s an old, familiar coffee table and couch directly under it; pillows and a long, dark blanket spread over the cushions. Against the wall is a line of filing cabinets, like the kind you’d find in an office building. Every drawer is open. Empty.

  The floor is painted in dark pools of drying blood.

  “What the fuck is happening?” I whisper. “Where’s Josh?”

  “Harlow.”

  I hear his voice behind me. It pulls me around. It pushes me forward. I’m running down the hall to him, falling against him before I know what I’m doing. He smells like sweat and blood but he feels solid under my hands. I nearly sigh with relief when his arms wrap around me.

  “Are you okay?” I whisper.

  “I’m fine.” He nuzzles his face into my hair, against my neck. He kisses it once, softly. “I’m fine.”

  “You promise?”

  “I swear it.”

  “What happened?”

  His hold on me tightens, just for a second. It’s a warning. A reminder that we’re not alone.

  I step back out of his embrace, straightening. “I was so worried. I was on my way to Lila’s when I saw the firetruck go by. Somehow I just knew it was coming here.”

  “Not its first time,” he agrees grimly.

  My stomach knots and flips, rising on a million memories into my throat until I feel like I’ll vomit.

  “Harlow,” Cranston calls patiently. “You can stay because I know I’d have to arrest you to get you to go, but can you wait over there on the couch while I talk to Josh about what happened tonight?”

  I glance up at Josh. He casts me a half-grin, reassuring me that he’s got this.

  “Yeah,” I relent reluctantly. “Of course, Sherriff.”

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out as I sit down, quickly reading the text from Lila.

  Where the fuck are you? I’m freaking out!

  I’m talking to Josh. The cops are here. Stay away. I warn. I’ll be at your place soon. Lock the doors. I have my key.

  What happened?!

  I’m still trying to figure that out.

  It takes over an hour for them to question Josh. They rake him over the coals, asking him to tell his story at least ten times. It’s exactly the same every single time. Not a fact out of place, not a detail deviated. It’s almost too perfect to believe, his calm demeanor hard to swallow.

  According to Josh, he came home from a night of drinking with friends on campus to find his place broken into. When he got insid
e, three guys jumped him. One had a knife. They tried to kill him but he was able to get his gun and he shot two of them in the head as the other ran out the door. He was able to get one shot into the man who ran, clipping his shoulder.

  They were all wearing Black Hawks cuts.

  I stare at Josh in amazement, my throat choked by fear.

  Did he really kill two men tonight? And if he did, how the hell is he so fucking calm about it?

  “Any idea what they were looking for?” Cranston asks.

  “I don’t know. Electronics, probably. But I don’t have much. I’m just a struggling college student.”

  “And the cabinets. What was in those?”

  “Tax documents and Pops’ medical records,” Josh answers easily. “Pops is kind of a hoarder when it comes to paperwork. He keeps everything. Every Social Security check stub and prescription receipt he’s ever had. I don’t know what good any of it will be to anyone, aside from identity fraud. His social security number is on most of it.”

  “You’ll want to watch his credit information for the next few months. Make sure no one is opening accounts in his name. If you see any, you report it right away.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Cranston closes his notebook, sliding it into the back pocket of his pants. “I think that’s it for tonight. I’ll have more questions for you in the morning. Don’t leave town.”

  “Of course not.”

  He pulls a card from his belt. “We got everything we need from the scene. You can have the place cleaned. Call these guys out of Vegas. They’re the best.”

  “Thank you. I will.”

  “Do you want us to give you a ride anywhere? You can take a minute to pack a bag.”

  Josh shakes his head. “No, I’ll stay here. Thanks.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “That’s your choice. But if you have any trouble, you give me a call.”

  “I will.”

  “And get a safe for that gun.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Hmm,” Cranston grunts. He does one last look over the room. There’s not much to see. Nothing but me. “Do you need a ride home, Harlow?”

  “No. I’d like to stay and talk to Josh.”

  “Hmm,” he hums again.

  His old wheels are turning, asking questions his lips aren’t ready to release. He has two Black Hawks bodies on their way to the morgue and a Devil’s Due bartender/old lady sitting in the center of his crime scene. There’s a connection there, he just doesn’t know exactly what it is yet.

  The police file out. The firetruck is long gone, disappearing during Josh’s interrogation after they packed up their bodies. Josh watches from the doorway as the last car pulls away from the curb. The lights disappear around the corner, leaving the house dark. Barren. He closes the door slowly. He throws the latch hard.

  “You should go home,” he tells me quietly, his words contradicting his actions. He just locked me in. It’s obvious to both of us that I’m leaving any time soon.

  “What really happened tonight?” I ask curiously.

  “We got jumped. Skeeze, Raw, and me, we came back here to get product for a deal and they were waiting for us.” He runs his hand over his eyes, groaning deep in the back of his throat. “It was a setup.”

  “By who?”

  “My relay. My guy.” He drops his hand, shaking his head in disgust. The muscles on his neck standout starkly under his skin; taught and angry. “He was my friend. I didn’t… Fuck, I didn’t see it coming. Why didn’t I see it coming?”

  “Are you sure it was him?”

  “It couldn’t have been anyone else.” He pulls his cell phone from his pocket, handing it to me. “He sent me these messages just as we were walking into the trap.”

  I take his phone from him, surprised by how candid he’s being. Devo doesn’t leave his phone in the same room with me. He would never hand it to me and he would absolutely die before he let me unlock it.

  When I swipe it to life, the messages are up on the screen; the last thing Josh looked at. There are four from Harrison that have gone unanswered.

  don’t go home!

  I fucked up I’m sorry forget the order

  Stay away from your house. Call me

  And finally, the last one, just fifteen minutes ago.

  I’m so sorry

  “Oh my God,” I whisper. “This is your friend?”

  “He was, yeah.”

  I look up at him where he towers over me, a mountain of frustration, muted rage, and stunned disbelief. The light overhead throws shadows down the length of him, darkening his features until they’re almost unrecognizable.

  “What are you gonna do?”

  He stretches his lips into a grim line as he reaches for his phone. “I don’t know yet. But don’t tell anyone at the club. I don’t want them to know.”

  “They’re gonna find out, right? They’ll ask you what went wrong tonight and you need to tell them something.”

  “I’ll tell them the truth, but I won’t tell them who Harrison is. They’ve never met him. I’ve never even said his name to Raw. I can protect him from them.”

  “Why?”

  Josh blinks, surprised by the question.

  I cock my head impatiently. “He screwed you, Josh. What do you owe him?”

  “Nothing. But I won’t lead him to the slaughter either.”

  “Jesus, they won’t kill him. They’re not psychos.”

  “Have you ever looked at a guy and thought, ‘You’d be somebodies bitch in prison’?”

  “I guess,” I answer slowly.

  “Well, that’s Harrison. He has that look, like he’s soft. If even one of the Due got a hand on him, he’d fall apart. He wouldn’t take a beating well.”

  “Maybe he should have thought of that before he fucked you over.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” he mutters, but he’s not convinced. He’s going to handle this his way. No matter what I think.

  I swallow nervously, my brow creasing. “I want to ask you something. And I hope you won’t lie to me.”

  “I didn’t kill them,” he tells me quietly.

  My eyes snap to his face. “How did you know I was going to ask that?”

  “What else would you ask me, Harlow? I’m surprised it took you this long to do it.”

  I sigh, shrugging my shoulders. Unable to come up with an answer.

  Josh is unable to let it lie. “What if I had?”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “But if I had.”

  “What do you want to hear?” I demand. “That I’m glad you didn’t? That they tried to kill you and I would have understood if you had? That this whole fucking thing terrifies me?”

  “Is that true?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, the wind falling from my sails. “I never wanted this for you. Ever since you hooked up with the Due, I’ve been so scared that you’re not cut out for this.”

  “And after tonight, what do you think now?”

  “Now… now I’m afraid that maybe you are.”

  Josh has been spending a lot of time at the club. Hours and hours with the boys. They’ve rubbed off on him, cutting him down to a fine edge in places. There’s a sharpness to him that wasn’t there before, that I never expected, and I’m relieved and excited to see it. Watching him handle his business like one of the Due, like a man, does something wicked to me. I’m looking at him in the shadows and the angry light, and I think I see him clearer than I ever have before.

  I take a deep breath, glancing around the house searching for anything else in the world to talk about. Any reason I can manage to stay.

  “This whole minimalist thing is cool,” I joke lightly. “Super modern.”

  Josh smirks. “You like it? I saw it on Pinterest and had to try it.”

  “You’re nailing it. It’s great.” My heart slams in my chest roughly. “The ladies must love it, huh?”

  Josh’s smirk dissolves instantly. He watche
s me closely, his wheels spinning. Working me out.

  He has me figured before I do.

  “I don’t bring girls here,” he tells me softly. “Ever.”

  “No? Are you a priest? A priest and a drug dealer? How many things are you up to that I don’t know about?”

  He doesn’t answer me. He watches me closely, eyeing the shovel in my hand and the dirt disturbed at my feet, but he lets me keep digging. Deeper and deeper, like a jealous girlfriend.

  “Really?” I challenge, unable to stop myself. “You’re not seeing anyone? Ever?”

  “You should go,” he repeats. “I’ll walk you home.”

  “I don’t want you to walk me home,” I argue.

  “Why not?”

  I chuckle nervously for no real reason. My emotions are swirling, twisting. Going to that place where I can’t understand them. It’s like a giant ball of string that’s been knotted together over and over so many times that I can’t find a single end to pull on. I can’t pull my feelings apart to look at them one by one and identify them the way he can. I never learned how, dyslexic in more ways than one. All I know is agonizing chaos, wanting and wishing and never reaching.

  Until right now.

  “I want to ask you something else.”

  Josh furrows his brow, looking down at me expectantly. “What now?”

  There are a million reasons why I should leave.

  I stand slowly, trying my hardest to hold his gaze. “Do you—?”

  There’s only one reason for me to stay.

  “What is it, Harlow?”

  And like the fucking basket case that I am, I go hunting for that reason. For the one thing I’ve always felt but he’s never said.

  “Do you love me, Josh?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Josh

  I take a step back from her, nearly stumbling away like I’ve been hit. “Of course I love you. Everybody loves you.”

  Her eyes are worried. Scared as they search mine for answers I’m not looking to give. Not right now. Not tonight after everything that’s happened. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

  “I know.”

  “Then answer me.”

  I drop my hands at my sides in irritation. “What do you want me to say, Harlow?”

  “I want you to answer my question. Do you love me?”