by Matt Rogers
‘Better you don’t know. Just in case it comes back to you. You’ll pass a polygraph if you don’t know where he ended up.’
‘Did you let him run?’
‘Of course not.’
Quiet.
Rebecca asked, ‘What now?’ but she knew where they were headed.
Minutes later King coasted slowly past the walk-up, but there was no commotion. Either the single gunshot Myles had fired at her had been mistaken for something else, or the neighbours simply didn’t care.
King stopped in front of the building.
She sat still, hands shaking. ‘I don’t know if I can go back in there.’
‘You have to,’ King said. ‘And you have to go back to work. It’ll seem impossible. But it’ll get easier, day by day. You tell anyone who asks that he walked out, you don’t know where he is, you haven’t heard from him.’
‘No one will ask.’
King bowed his head. ‘And spend time with your parents. They went through hell.’
‘Dad was in the army,’ she said. ‘He’s—’
‘He’ll put on a game face. He’s tough as nails. But deep down it’ll tear him up. You be there for him, and they’ll be there for you. Eventually it’ll go back to normal. Or close to normal. Maybe that’s all you can hope for now.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Did you make it hurt?’
King pondered what to say. ‘That final moment of his life … he was terrified to his core. He died horribly. He had no peace.’
She said, ‘Good.’
He didn’t say anything, so she put her hand on the door. She froze with her fingertips on the handle, like she wanted to ask a thousand more questions but recognised that King needed to leave. She turned to face him. ‘Why did you do any of this?’
‘Because you needed help and I was able to help,’ King said. ‘I looked at myself and realised any excuse I could come up with to stay out of it was bullshit.’
She could barely comprehend that. ‘Men aren’t like you. People aren’t like you.’
‘I hope not. It’s not a self-preserving mindset.’
‘If I wanted to be just a sliver of the person you are,’ she said, ‘what should I do?’
‘Right now, nothing. Rest up, slow down, find meaning in routine. Then, when you’re somewhere in the vicinity of normal, do something for someone and expect nothing in return. I mean, not even a thank you. Not even a smile. Just do it and move on. Then repeat.’
She nodded. ‘I get it.’
‘You don’t have to try to be like me.’
‘You saved my life,’ she said again. ‘I owe it to you to do something with it. Even if it’s not anything special. I owe it to you to try.’
He nodded back.
She got out and walked away from the car, shoulders hunched against the early afternoon breeze.
Another fucked-up soul passing from his life, never to return. He had nothing to show for what he’d done. No reward, no praise, no massaging of the ego. Which is exactly what he wanted. He wouldn’t have it any other way. If he was in it for the external validation, it wouldn’t be real.
This was real.
He let out a breath, grateful to go home and see Junior, but for that brief moment he forgot his life was nothing but chaos.
His phone rang and when he fished it out and answered, Slater said, ‘I need you to do something for me.’
83
Sitting behind the wheel of the Porsche, Slater got King’s agreement to meet, then hung up and dropped the phone back into the centre console.
They were still at the end of the cul-de-sac, surveying South River Marsh. Out in the swamp, the shack was on fire again. A plume of black smoke vomited up towards the heavens, reaching for the overhanging clouds. Adrenaline had kept him going for maybe five minutes after killing Dwayne, and he’d used every second of it. The five bodies around the safe house were now inside, cooking to a crisp, and the three snipers were buried deep under a pile of mud and grass and weeds. Someone would stumble on it all, probably very soon given the noise. There was no hiding it forever.
By then he’d be long gone.
Tyrell stared daggers at him from the passenger seat. ‘You’re hurt bad.’
Slater shook his head, but even that made his head split. He took a breath to compose himself. ‘I’m alright.’
‘I heard you get hit in the ribs. It was loud. I think they broke.’
‘Maybe,’ Slater said. He could taste blood, no matter how much water he gargled. ‘But I’m not done.’
‘Where we going?’
Slater shook his head. ‘Not you, kid. You’re done. I never should have brought you here.’
‘You had to. I wasn’t welcome at your friend’s.’
‘Yes, you were. Alonzo was just uncomfortable. Discomfort’s nothing to fret over. But I thought I needed you in the video. To draw Dwayne out. I thought he was weaker than he actually was. But he would have come if it was just me. He hated me. I brought you for no reason.’
‘Man, you too hard on yourself.’
Slater shrugged. ‘Story of my life.’
‘So it’s over?’
‘Your part is.’
‘Where we going, then? Before you meet Jason.’
Slater finally looked over. ‘I’ll take you home.’
It wouldn’t be home. Not yet. Maybe one day it might be.
Slater knew the kid could be scarred for life from all that had happened, but if he hadn’t intervened on that street corner, Tyrell would’ve never had a life. He’d have shot at his father anyway, and then all hell would have rained down on him, from Dwayne or Jeremiah or any of the goons they ran with.
Slater watched the safe house burn for another few seconds, then threw the Porsche in reverse and backed away.
Leaving it all behind.
Closing the chapter.
84
Before he’d even pulled into the driveway Alexis was running for the car.
Slater touched the brakes, shocked.
Why is she coming from the house?
She rounded to the passenger side, opened the door, and crouched to get on Tyrell’s eye level. She put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Uh, I think so.’
She hugged him. He hugged her back. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she met Slater’s gaze.
Slater raised an eyebrow, asking endless questions.
She mouthed, ‘Took care of the bodies.’
Slater’s stomach twisted. He mouthed back, ‘What?’
‘Me and Alonzo. They’re gone.’
Sometimes Slater forgot she had killed too, she was just as much a part of this as he was. And Alonzo wasn’t some easygoing tech guy. He was a hard-nosed ex-black ops veteran. He could deal with the dead.
When she parted from Tyrell, he had a sly smile on his face. ‘You still make noise when you whisper, y’know. I could snitch on you both. Get you locked up. Steal all yo money.’
She sighed. ‘Well, I tried.’
She led him toward the house. When she realised Slater wasn’t following them she didn’t hesitate. She saw Tyrell’s wellbeing as the priority it was. She took him inside and Slater waited in the car, barely able to budge, until she came back out fifteen minutes later, no doubt after settling him.
She came to the driver’s window, which he’d buzzed down, and rested her elbows on the sill. From half a foot away she stared at his face.
She whispered, ‘Jesus…’
‘It looks worse than it is.’
‘I doubt that. Are you coming in? You need to be on the couch for a month, I’d say.’
‘Tonight,’ he said. ‘There’s one thing left to do.’
‘Should I ask?’
‘I can tell you everything later. I should probably conserve my energy.’
She smirked, leant forward and kissed his forehead. She didn’t seem to care that it was caked in dried blood. ‘Dangerous?’
He said, ‘No.’
‘Have you heard from King?’
‘He’s okay. He helped Rebecca with her problem. That’s over, too.’
She sighed. ‘You’re a handful, Will.’
‘You signed up for this.’
‘I did.’
‘We can find another home for Tyrell,’ he said. ‘If you’d prefer. I threw this all onto you without asking.’
‘You mean that?’
‘I do.’
The smirk was wry now. She shook her head. ‘I think, in some twisted way … this is good for us.’
He barely had the energy to nod.
She said, ‘We were trying for a—’
He found the energy, cut her off with a nod. ‘So we skipped the first twelve years, then? This is our kid?’
‘Too early to tell.’
‘I think it’s something instinctual. I think you know. I know how I feel.’
There were tears in her eyes. ‘I think I feel the same.’
A pause.
She asked, ‘How does he feel?’
‘He wants to stay. But he might be in shock. We’ll see what happens.’
She said, ‘Hurry back.’
‘I’ll be as fast as I can.’
‘If whatever you’re doing is physical,’ she said, ‘you’re not going to manage.’
‘King’s helping.’
She shook her head, probably thinking, Boys. ‘I’ll take care of Tyrell.’
He looked her in the eyes. ‘I know you will.’
He backed out of the driveway and sped toward the Boston National Historical Park in Dorchester Heights. He’d agreed to meet King there.
Halfway between Winthrop and Rebecca’s home in Mattapan.
85
They met below the huge grey monument, surrounded by trees.
The park was small, cosy, with views overlooking all of Boston.
King stood next to a plaque describing the events of the Fortification of Dorchester Heights, where Continental Army troops mounted cannons on this very land and watched the British Army sail away.
Slater limped slowly up to him, making sure not to take any large steps. If he kept his gait to a shuffle, his ribs didn’t flare up. They’d be bad for the next few weeks, at least. For now they were numb, anaesthetised by the shock of the morning. He didn’t feel human.
King looked him up and down as he approached. ‘Seems I got lucky. All I had to do was kill an ex-cop.’
‘Slow day at the office, huh?’
King smiled. ‘I’d pull you in for a hug but I’d probably just make things worse.’
Slater nodded slowly. ‘You get hurt?’
‘General soreness. Killing men is rough on the body. I’m getting old.’
‘No you’re not.’
King said, ‘How many came after you?’
‘Eleven at the marsh. Including Dwayne Griggs.’
‘Are your ribs broken?’
Slater was hunched, constricted into himself by the internal damage, but he still didn’t think he was letting it show. ‘How’d you know?’
‘Is that a serious question?’
Slater nodded.
King said, ‘I just know.’
Slater took a step forward and nearly collapsed. King caught him under the armpit, expertly supporting his weight without any exaggerated movement, minimising the pain that still shot through Slater’s core regardless.
King said, ‘Why didn’t you just tell me to meet you at your car? Stubborn bastard.’
‘Help me back to it,’ Slater grumbled.
King led him back to the Porsche, away from the huge grey monument spearing into the heavens. He lowered Slater gently into the passenger seat and said, ‘No more driving for you. Not for a while.’
Slater nodded gratefully, thankful there was at least a couple of people in this world he could let his guard down around. King got behind the wheel and looked over and said, ‘So.’
‘So…’
‘What do you need?’
Slater composed his speech so it wouldn’t waver and said, ‘I drew Dwayne out of hiding by burning all the dirt he had on the men he was blackmailing. He was angry enough about it that I believe he only had physical copies. Doesn’t make any sense, but people often don’t.’
‘What sort of dirt?’
‘Surveillance photos of … well, a lot of things.’
‘Bad?’
‘Very. Myles was a saint in comparison.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
Slater didn’t answer, and King gripped the wheel as he mulled pensively. Then he said, ‘So now there’s no evidence of what they did.’
‘I have all the evidence here,’ Slater said, and winced as he brought a hand up to tap the side of his head. ‘I made a list of names.’
King stared. ‘How many?’
‘Twelve. Including Myles.’
‘I’m not killing eleven people for you.’
Slater shook his head. ‘I’ll take care of them. When I’m better. But that’ll be a while. And one of the folders I found … it stood out. I’m talking some of the worst shit I’ve ever seen, and you know I’ve been around. I’ve seen a lot. This piece of shit doesn’t deserve another second on this earth. And if it takes me weeks to heal, that’s weeks he could be going around, doing the same things I saw in those photos, not getting caught…’
King didn’t respond.
Slater said, ‘You want to know what I saw, don’t you?’
King thought about it, then said, ‘No. I see the look in your eyes.’
‘That’s it?’
‘That’s it. What’s his name?’
‘Jaxson Hoffman. With an “X”.’
‘You heard of him before you found his file?’
‘No. I looked him up, though. He’s a state prosecutor. Lots of political connections. Done many favours for many powerful people. Untouchable, as they say.’
At that, King smirked. ‘That’s what they all say. You know where he is?’
‘I was hoping you’d make a call.’
It took a moment to compute, then King sighed and slowly nodded. He fished out his phone and dialled.
He thought Violetta might be out cold, or nursing Junior, but she answered.
She never ignored his call.
86
Drifting in and out of a half-wakeful state, Violetta stirred to the specific ringtone she’d assigned to King’s number.
It still flooded her with warmth, especially when he was out handling business.
It meant he was coming home. He always did. She’d stopped worrying deeply for him when she realised whoever he went out to deal with didn’t have the luxury of calling home. Not after he and Slater were done with them.
Still bleary-eyed, she fished around in the covers for her phone and brought it to her ear.
‘You’re okay?’ she mumbled, settling back against the pillows.
‘I’m fine,’ King said, and she could hear the warmth in his voice, too. She often wondered how they were so right for each other. ‘Slater’s felt better.’
‘So have I.’
‘You two can wallow together in your miseries.’
‘That sounds good.’
‘I need something.’
‘I thought so.’
‘Jaxson Hoffman. With an “X”.’
‘Am I supposed to know who that is?’
‘A Google search will tell you. But I need you to go deeper. I need you to find out where he’ll be later today.’
‘You may be asking too much.’
‘If you’re not feeling up to it…’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ she said. ‘It’s not about my discomfort. If you’re asking me to find this guy then I don’t want to know what he’s done, and I’ll do it as fast as I can. But getting into his personal itinerary…’
‘Just try. I think you underestimate yourself.’
‘Leave it with me.’
‘How’s Junior?’
‘Dozing for now
. He’s been making more noise since you left.’
She could almost hear King’s smile. ‘I’m sure he’s been worried about me.’
‘So you’d better get home quick. And be careful with this Hoffman guy.’
‘Nah,’ King said. ‘Hoffman doesn’t know we’re coming. All the actual problems are taken care of.’
‘What about the boy?’
A long pause. ‘Slater hasn’t told me much yet.’
‘He’s okay, though?’
‘Yeah. It would have come up if he wasn’t.’
Violetta said, ‘Then I know what Will’s going to do.’
‘You do?’
‘I saw how he behaved around Tyrell.’
‘And that tells you all you need to know?’
‘You bet. I’m a mother now, remember? There’s an instinct there.’
‘I’ll be sure to interrogate him for details.’
‘You won’t need to,’ Violetta said. ‘He’ll tell you.’ She paused, then said, ‘Give me a few minutes.’
She hung up, opened her laptop, and started deep diving for Jaxson Hoffman, using every trick that the deepest, darkest factions of the government had taught her.
87
King drove in the general direction of the city centre as he waited for Violetta to call back.
Without looking over he took stock of Slater’s condition. He’d seen the man in every physical state imaginable. After a couple of minutes listening to the dull grunts of distress and using his peripheral vision to see Slater hunched over, King determined that he’d definitely seen him in worse shape. He was beat up, sporting internal damage, but it seemed worse than it was because the adrenaline had worn off. Now he was swamped by all the pain he’d ignored after killing Dwayne. There were always going to be highs and lows. This life was about recognising that, and accepting them as they came.
Stuck in traffic, drumming the wheel, King said, ‘So,’ again.
He didn’t get a response, so he looked over and found Slater staring at him.
Slater raised an eyebrow. ‘So what?’
‘There’s an elephant in the room.’
Slater half-smiled through gritted teeth. ‘Tyrell’s staying with us.’
