Under the Bones

by Kory M. Shrum

  “It wasn’t finalized,” he admitted. “She’d been sick in the hospital. There was a priest but no marriage certificate. I’m not sure it would hold in court.” King knew he was rambling. But focusing on the bullshit details that didn’t matter felt better than looking too closely at the raw reality. Lucy was gone. Lucy was gone and she wasn’t coming back.

  Tears stung his eyes.

  “None of that matters if you loved her.”

  “I do. I did.” His voice cracked.

  Sampson said nothing. Puzzlement danced across his face. King saw his conflict, his desire to push forward with his business in coming here, warring against the decency of not kicking a man while he was down.

  King wanted him gone. And if the man had flown from St. Louis to talk to him, he wasn’t leaving until he’d done what he’d come to do.

  “How bad is it?” King asked.

  “That’s what I came to ask you,” Sampson said.

  King said nothing.

  “I can see now that this isn’t a good time, and I’m real sorry about that,” Sampson began. “But you’ve got to talk to me. Tell me what is going on.”

  “I needed some information,” King said.

  “About Paolo Konstantine?”

  “Just an old man’s curiosity,” King insisted. “Go on and call me an uncle, but it’s not like I was using it maliciously.”

  “What does Louie Thorne have to do with all this?”

  The mention of her name made King’s blood freeze in his veins. Had he really been so careless? He thought he’d done a good job of entering and exiting the server using different IPs and encrypted lines. Whatever emotion played across his face Sampson must’ve seen it.

  “Isn’t she Jack’s daughter?”

  Of course he made the connection. Because Sampson knew Jack too. Knew how much the grunt had meant to King when he was flying high in the St. Louis unit, in the peak of their glory days before his murder and the slander of his good name had brought everything crashing down around them.

  And hadn’t it been Sampson himself who had testified on King’s behalf, vouching that no matter what Jack may have done, no matter how many connections formed with the Martinelli cartel, King was innocent of all wrong doing.

  “To help you along,” Sampson said, his face somewhere between masked and sympathetic. “I’ll tell you what I did. I compiled every search conducted on our server in the last ninety days and what I found was a whole lot of people were checking on the name Louie Thorne. Or sometimes Lou Thorne and once in a while Lucy Thorne, who turns out, is Jack’s sister and a woman you’ve been visiting at the New Orleans Cancer Center nearly every day over a month. And I take it she’s the wife you are referring to?”

  King tried to control his exhale.

  “What’s going on, Robbie?” Now Sampson’s face was genuine concern. “What are you doing? Is this for your P.I. business?”

  “If I told you,” King said, running a hand over his weathered face. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

  When had he gotten so damn old? His head ached. His back and neck ached. His hand knuckles were the color of a split plum.

  “Try me,” Sampson said. “Because I’ve been tasked with detailing every suspicious log-in for the last ninety days and I need to have a good damn excuse for this. The department is on high alert over this Konstantine mess. There’s a real possibility that innocent people like yourself will get caught in the crossfire if we aren’t careful. They want to cover their asses and they want to blame someone. You know how it goes. And this is suspicious as hell, so give me something you can float on here or you’re going down with the ship.”

  King looked up and saw Lou leaning in the doorway of his bedroom.

  Shock ran through his body and his surprised jolt must have alarmed Sampson as well. He was on his feet, holding the manila folder down at his side as his right hand snaked toward the small of his back. So he was packing. Weren’t they all these days…

  King had thought she’d left. That she’d simply taken the leather jacket she now wore and had slipped through some shadowed corner of his bedroom, or perhaps from beneath his bed. But here she was, mirrored sunglasses and all.

  “Won’t you introduce us?” she said.

  King finally found his voice. “I don’t believe you’ve met Jack’s daughter, Lou. Lou this is Sampson. He worked with your old man back in St. Louis.”

  Sampson couldn’t contain his surprise. And King understood full and well. The creature standing before him was like something out of the jungle. Her entire leather-clad presence from head-to-toe. No wonder she blended with the underworld so well. She looked cut from the same cloth. And for anyone who’d hunted danger in the dark, they knew dangerous when they saw it. When it stood before them, the urge to reach for the gun was high.

  But Lou was offering her hand. She was saying hello.

  Sampson found his voice at last. “It’s nice to see you again. You’re…all grown up.”

  King arched an eyebrow at the other man but Sampson didn’t seem to notice. And he couldn’t read Lou’s eyes either behind those sunglasses.

  Lou was speaking. “It’s my fault that he keeps searching your database.”

  King’s skin chilled. Sampson was a do-gooder. He stood on the right side of the law. And though that made him a trustworthy man, it didn’t mean he could be trusted with the truth.

  If Lou saw his panicked expression, she continued as if she hadn’t.

  “The Italian crime factions thought they won when my dad’s name was publicly trashed,” she said. “When he was exonerated, they became angry. They’ve made threats, tried to track me down. King knew they were looking into your servers. And he wanted to make sure there was nothing there that could lead them to me.”

  King was holding his breath. It was a damn good lie. It was a damn good lie because it wasn’t exactly a lie at all. The criminals were trying to crack the server. He was sure they were pissed when Jack was elevated to hero status again. And no doubt more than one drug lord would love to know this woman’s real name and how to find her.

  Sampson was trying to detect a lie, King could see it in his searching expression. But he couldn’t find one.

  “They threaten you?” he asked, finally.

  “Almost every day.” Another truth. Sampson didn’t need to know that those threats usually came delivered from fear, at knifepoint.

  “Why haven’t you reported it? You could have asked for protection?”

  It took considerable control for King not to burst out laughing. Louie Thorne, in need of their protection?

  “Do you think I can trust the DEA after what Brasso did to my father?” she said. “Then he takes off and you can’t even find him.”

  Sampson was the first to avert his eyes.

  “I see,” he said finally.

  “King was just trying to protect me.”

  More truth, though King wouldn’t have been able to say it from his own lips without dipping the words in guilt first. He wanted to honor Jack and Lucy, but it wasn’t enough.

  He flexed his hand and saw fresh blood spring up between the malformed scabs. Sampson was looking at his busted hand too, no doubt drawing his own conclusions.

  “I’ve got all I need. I’ll leave you to your grief,” Sampson said. “I’m sorry I came at such a bad time. And I’m sorry for your loss.”

  He hesitated at the balcony door. “King. One more thing?”

  With much effort, King dragged himself from the sofa and followed Sampson out onto the balcony. He pulled the door shut behind them.

  “That’s Louie Thorne?” Sampson asked, his face overrun with disbelief.

  King wasn’t sure if this was a real question or verbal processing. “Yeah. Makes you feel old, doesn’t it?”

  “I remember her at the picnics. Quiet. Liked her books.”

  “Still quiet,” King said, unsure where this was going.

  “You’ve got to stop logging on,” Sampson said. “T
hey’re in a frenzy over this Konstantine bullshit.”

  “All right.” He held up his bloody knuckles. “I’m in need of a break anyway.”

  “And you should keep track of the threats,” Sampson added. “In case this all ends up in court, you’ll want proof that she’s been threatened.”

  As if Louie Thorne would ever let it get that far. “It’s good advice, Sammy.”

  He was staring at the closed balcony door. “Is she all right?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Sampson touched the side of his head and raised his eyebrows. “What happened to Jack, well, that’d mess up anybody. And she was there that night.”

  “Does she seem crazy to you?” King asked, genuinely curious. He wondered what the rest of the world saw when they looked at Lou.

  “No,” Sampson said, shaking his head. “No, she seems smart. Charming. But Ted Bundy had been charming too.”

  King laughed. The jab was too close not to strike him funny. “She’s not eating people or fucking their corpses. I assure you.”

  But King was sure that Lou had surpassed Bundy’s body count years ago.

  “Well, look after her,” Sampson said. He frowned at King. “And yourself, Robbie.”

  “I’m trying.”

  Sampson squeezed his shoulder and climbed onto the fire escape with the folder tucked under his arm. “I’ll be in touch if anything develops with this.”

  “You know you can use the front door. Mel won’t bite. Probably.”

  Sampson only laughed. “My momma didn’t raise no fool.”

  King listened to the fire escape rattle with the large man’s descent before he stepped back into the apartment and closed the balcony door.

  “You’re not being careful.” Lou leaned against his bedroom door, watching him.

  King snorted. It was all he could muster in the form of humor. His heart wasn’t in it. His heart, in fact, was nowhere to be found. “Maybe that’s why Lucy linked us up. She wanted you to babysit an old, stupid man.”

  Lucy. Just her name, the thought of her, as light as a dry corn husk in his arms. He pinched his eyes closed and pressed his thumbs into his temples.

  This hurt. And it was going to hurt for a long time.

  “You can’t go on the server anymore,” Lou said.

  “No shit.”

  “There’s another way. I don’t know how it works, but I know he’s good at it.”

  “Him who?”

  “Sober up and I’ll introduce you.”

  28

  Konstantine tried not to pace the apartment. He had one hour before his rendezvous with Ricci. Tonight he would be back in Florence. Tonight he would face Nico and… what? Would he win? With Lou by his side, his victory was assured. He’d seen her on the boat with the senator, exacting her revenge. She’d dropped a man with every bullet. Nico’s army would be nothing against her, especially with his borrowed New York army behind them.

  And yet…

  Something ate at his stomach. There was an unease inside him that he didn’t trust.

  God speaks to us when we listen, his mother had said. But only when we listen.

  His mind turned over the possibilities. All the ways the plan could go sideways.

  The closet door burst open with more force than he’d come to expect from Lou.

  An enormous man emerged first, Lou bursting in after him. Konstantine froze beside the rumpled bed, composing himself. He knew his outward appearance was calm, dignified. He’d practiced it enough to know how the expression felt on his face even when he himself couldn’t see it. But his heart hammered.

  Lou turned her dark eyes on him, arching an eyebrow. “I see you’re ready to go.”

  “We have one hour,” he said, hoping she hadn’t forgotten that he would need her to transport him. She seemed nonplussed by this news. He took this for affirmation that she hadn’t lost track of time.

  But then why was the cop here. Ex-cop, he thought. This man had gone through the police academy, served several years on the Minneapolis force before being promoted to detective. Ten years later he applied for and was accepted by the Drug Enforcement Agency and began his career in St. Louis. He left the city only once, when an injury sidelined him and it was during that teaching exile he met Louie’s father.

  He’d been married once before for eight years, was a decorated hero, a minor boxing champion in his 20s. And he had liked to drink.

  That was all Konstantine knew of the man standing before him.

  He gave the man a once over, appraising him as politely as possible and concluded that whatever else might be true, the drinking was not such a thing of the past.

  He looked rough.

  Though his hair was recently washed and slicked back from his face. His eyes were dark with circles beneath and he had the posture of an old man. No, a defeated man. Even when he saw Konstantine and tried to pull himself up to his full height, it didn’t quite leave him.

  Perhaps it wasn’t the drinking or the age. Perhaps, Konstantine realized, what he was looking at was grief.

  “Robert King,” the man said and extended his hand.

  “Paolo Konstantine,” he said and accepted the shake. Neither man tried to overpower the other or squeeze too hard.

  For a moment, neither of them knew what to do with their bodies. They hovered as Lou disappeared down the hall to the bathroom and emerged changed. Fresh black cargo pants and a new black shirt. Her feet were bare on the wood floor and her hair pulled back to reveal her neck, keeping all strands from her face.

  Konstantine couldn’t help but watch her move, admiring the shift and sway of her body. Whatever grief she felt for her dead aunt was tucked neatly away in a corner of her heart for now.

  Konstantine knew King was watching him, watching Lou. “Lou says that you’re good with computers.”

  “I have a bit of talent,” he said.

  Lou snorted as she opened the safe. She threw guns and ammo over her shoulder onto the bed. “Who knew Italian men were so modest.”

  “You’re the one who gave the proof of Jack’s innocence?” the large man said, slowly sinking onto the sofa.

  “Yes.” Konstantine mirrored him, taking a seat on the side of Lou’s bed, far enough that a pistol wouldn’t hit him in the face.

  “I’ve been monitoring servers and databases, trying to erase anything that linked to Lou. But it looks like they’re onto me. Is there a way to do it without being noticed?”

  “Of course,” Konstantine said. “I will be happy to show you.”

  “Can you get a computer in New York?” she asked.

  “Ricci will give me whatever I need. I’m sure a laptop will be no problem. But if you intend to do this tutorial before—” He let his words hang in the air.

  “If you’re busy—” King started.

  “Konstantine will probably die tonight,” Lou said as casually as one says we’re expecting thunderstorms. “It’s now or never.”

  “All right,” King said. “When do we leave?”

  “Now,” she said. “I’ll take Konstantine first and then I’ll be back for you.”

  King looked ready to object but she was already stepping into the closet. Konstantine didn’t hesitate. It wasn’t only the opportunity to step into the dark with this beautiful creature again, to feel her hard body against his, it was also his eagerness to begin. He’d felt like an eternity, not days had passed in that apartment.

  He tried to relish it, every shift of muscle under his hand as he embraced her.

  “Ready?” she asked and he knew her lips were quite close to his. Oh the temptation. But he was no fool.

  The world shifted into view. They stepped out from under an overhang, some back-alley stoop with an added layer of shadow from the adjacent dumpster. She left Konstantine on this back stoop of Charlie’s Chinese House and was gone again before he could thank her.

  He rang the bell. A slot slid open revealing only black eyes. “Tell Ricci that his 1:00 is here.”<
br />
  The slot closed and Konstantine was left alone in the garbage-reeking alley for a moment to compose himself. He heard the hobbled steps of Ricci sound before the door opened on the round, joyous man.

  “Hey! You’re early! But it’s all right, it’s all right. Get in here!”

  He ushered Konstantine in with a pat on his back.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  King stood awkwardly in the alley.

  “He is with me,” Konstantine said.

  The two men exchanged looks as King gave a solemn smile.

  “Is this guy okay?” Ricci asked. He’d lowered his voice for Konstantine’s ears only. “I’m getting cop vibes.”

  King burped loudly and excused himself.

  “Or maybe he’s the town drunk,” Ricci added.

  “He is a cop, but he’s one of my cops.” He slapped Ricci’s shoulder. “And he and I need to conduct a bit of business before we leave for Florence.”

  Ricci shrugged. “All right. You can use the Jade room until Buddy gives us the go. You remember Buddy? He’s Karlene’s boy. Anyway he runs the airfield, everything that goes in and out goes through Buddy now. So when he says we’re clear to fly, then we’ll take a little drive down to the airfield, and we’re off.”

  Konstantine thanked him.

  They followed Ricci through the kitchen and maze of hallways of Charlie’s Chinese House. They passed the open door of an office and Konstantine paused.

  “Can I borrow a computer?” Konstantine asked, gazing into what no doubt masqueraded as a restaurant manager’s office. Wood paneling on all four walls and a great wooden desk. A tray with receipts stacked and a rubber band tying them all together like a fat roll of cash. A black box that looked like a walkie-talkie. But Konstantine wondered if it was a police scanner. Perhaps he had both squirreled away in there somewhere.

  “Sure, sure.”

  Ricci stepped into the office and fished a key out of a ceramic tray on his desk. It looked like one of those misshapen creations that children gave their parents from art class. He tried to remember how old Ricci’s daughters were now. Teenagers, perhaps? Maybe the eldest ready for college. He couldn’t recall.