by Scott Blade
Not worth the risk.
Widow stepped up to the driver’s door of the Buick and reached in and popped the trunk.
He walked around and pulled it open and stared at a zipped-up duffle bag and a Louisville Slugger with some marks on it like it had been used a lot. Knowing McCobb’s profession, Widow doubted he hit homers with the bat.
He reached into the trunk and unzipped the duffle bag.
He stared at the contents and started to back away.
“Alaska!” he called out.
She didn’t respond. He heard her and Shostrom arguing still.
“Alaska!” he shouted.
No response.
“ALASKA!”
The two of them stopped arguing.
“Get over here!” Widow said.
Rower moved the paramedic away and walked to the Buick, past Shostrom’s car. The sheriff followed.
They all stopped and stared at the duffle bag full of cash. There was blood on it.
“How much is that?” Rower asked.
“A couple hundred grand, I guess,” Widow said.
Shostrom said, “Drug money. How can it be so much?”
“It’s not drug money,” Widow said.
“What’s it for?”
“A kidney.”
“What?”
Rower said, “It’s for Lainey Olsen’s kidney. This guy must’ve stolen it.”
“From who?”
Widow said, “Must have taken it from Kylie Olsen. Who took it from her sister after she and Rousey tried to kill her.”
“Rousey?” Shostrom said.
“They’re dating,” Rower said.
“Probably were dating,” Widow said, “They were probably living together.”
He turned to Shostrom and said, “You’d better get someone over to their place.”
Shostrom nodded and walked over to his car. He opened the door and dumped himself down in the seat, left one leg out and the door wide open. He got on the radio and made the call.
He got one of his deputies who was posted in Deadwood and ordered him to stop at Rousey’s. He told him to get in no matter what and to be on the lookout for a female.
Widow turned to Rower and said, “We should get to the hospital. Check on Lainey.”
“What about Kylie?”
“She’s dead.”
“How can you be sure?”
“McCobb’s got the money. He was going to kill us. I’m sure he paid her a visit already. He was probably going to hand Rousey over to his boss.”
“Who is his boss?”
Widow looked over at Shostorm, who wasn’t paying attention. He pulled a different phone out of his pocket. It was old and gray and worn down. It was a burner phone.
“Whose is that?”
“McCobb’s.”
“And?”
“There’s no passcode on it.”
“Did you look at it?”
“Of course.”
“And?”
“These guys were pretty stupid. I’m surprised they operated at all.”
“Why?”
“He’s got phone calls and messages from his boss, a guy named Holden.”
“He named him?”
“Yep.”
“Could be a fake name.”
“Maybe. But he put Holden 'The Boss'.”
Rower rolled her eyes.
Widow handed her the phone, and she went through it. It didn’t take long before she had a link on the top of the food chain.
“Check this out. There are references to the ‘Chicago boys,’ ” she said and read to herself.
After a minute, she said, “They seem afraid of these ‘Chicago boys.’ They must be the buyers. Probably using Holden for transportation and clean up.”
Widow nodded.
“So, we find Holden, and we take him in. I can squeeze him for a name higher up.”
Widow said, “Congratulations. Seems like you’ll get your guy.”
“Yeah. But first, you’re right. Let’s get to Lainey. They might send more guys to stomp her out.”
“We need a car.”
Rower said, “We can ride with the paramedics. They’re pushing me to go to the hospital anyway. I might as well kill two birds and all.”
“What about me?”
“Aren’t you coming?”
“Shostrom seems pissed.”
“He is. Two of his men are dead, and one of them did it.”
“He going to try and arrest me again?”
“Don’t worry. I got you.”
Widow smiled.
She said, “You will have to stick around though. We’ll need a statement. Don’t worry though. I’ll back up your story. As long as you keep being useful.”
He nodded along.
“Okay. Come on,” she said, and she led him back to Shostrom and the ambulance.
She stopped and said, “We’re headed to the hospital in Deadwood. Make sure to bag and tag what you can.”
Shostrom was out of his car and staring at her.
“What? You can’t leave! He can’t leave!”
Rower said, “Sheriff, I’m the FBI. I tell you what you can’t do. This is my case. You got a problem with it, call the Bureau.”
Shostrom stared. His face registered something between frustration and anger and helplessness.
Rower said, “Oh, call my phone.”
Shostrom looked at her a second more, and then he pulled his cell out of a coat pocket. He hit redial and called her.
Widow already knew what she was doing, and he walked to the area where McCobb had tossed her phone and waited for it to ring.
It did. He stomped through the snow and dead, fallen branches and twigs and found it in the dirt.
He picked it up and clicked the button to end the ringing.
“Got it,” he called out.
He joined Rower at the ambulance.
“Take us to the hospital,” she told the paramedic, who nodded. She, Widow, and the two paramedics climbed back into the ambulance.
The driver K-turned and slowly drove around the dead bodies and the parked vehicles and took them back to I-NINETY and to Deadwood.
Chapter 37
O N THE GROUND, Holden stood to wait in front of a Lexus LS 500, which was the most expensive vehicle that he had in his fleet of stolen vehicles.
It was black and freshly washed at a local automatic car wash that he drove through after filling the tank.
He waited on the tarmac to the airport in Rapid City. He was on a private runway that wasn’t used to getting visitors. It was all technically a part of the airport but was a mile away. There was a single large airport hangar behind him. It was empty.
The runway was asphalt, but the drive to the hangar was dirt, which pissed him off since dirt and muddy snow had kicked up onto the tires and in the undercarriage.
It made him wonder why he’d bothered getting the thing washed at all.
He was starting to worry too because McCobb hadn’t called him in a while, but that wasn’t anything to be bent out of shape about. Lots of the rural parts of the Black Hills had spotty reception.
Holden waited and watched the plane come in and land. Three men climbed out, down a door that doubled as steps.
There was one white man he didn’t recognize and the two buyers that he had already seen the day before.
He waited for them to get halfway to him and then he walked ahead and joined them.
Holden wore his best clothes, which were jeans, boots, and a button-down shirt. No tie. He wore a simple winter coat and gloves.
The three men were in suits, tailored, fancy suits.
They met him in the middle, and all three shook hands and introduced themselves.
The Smiths gave the same stupid aliases, but the white man said his name was Gade. He was the leader, obviously.
Holden started to point to the car, but Gade interrupted him.
“Wait. John?” he said.
One of the Smiths no
dded and returned to the plane. He waited near the wing for two pilots to come out with two twin duffle bags, both black. Both looked heavy.
Holden wondered if it was more cash.
Smith took one bag, slung it over his shoulder and around his back. He lifted the other and carried it the rest of the way until he got to the other Smith, who took it.
They joined Gade and Holden at the Lexus.
“Pop the trunk,” Gade said.
“Sure.”
Holden popped it with a button on the key.
The Smiths loaded the bags into the trunk and shut it.
“Okay. Let’s go,” Gade said.
Holden walked to the driver’s door and opened it.
“No,” Gade said.
Holden stopped.
“No, what?”
“Not you.”
One of the Smiths walked around and snatched the key from Holden.
“Hey?”
“Shut up,” Gade said.
Holden started to protest, but the Smith, with the key, punched him in the back of the head.
Holden toppled forward and slammed his face into the roof of the car.
“What the hell!” he shouted.
“Shut up,” Gade repeated.
Smith grabbed Holden by the arm and frisked him. It was a quick, one-handed frisk. He found a nine-millimeter handgun stuffed in his inside coat pocket. He took it out and tossed it to Gade.
Next, he found a phone and took it out, held onto it.
Gade ejected the magazine from the gun, racked the slide, and ejected a chambered round. Then he threw the gun off into the distance.
“Hey! That’s my gun!”
“No shit?” Gade said.
One Smith opened the rear door, and the other shoved Holden down into the car.
Gade climbed in on the other side and sat next to Holden. Both Smiths were in the front.
The Smith driving asked, “Where to first?”
Gade asked, “Where are they?”
Holden said, “My guy’s taking care of the witness now.”
Gade paused and frowned and reared his hand and elbow back and punched Holden in the chest with a right jab. It was hard and violent, but not life-threatening.
Holden coughed and spattered and tried to catch his breath.
Gade said, “Okay. Okay. You’re okay. Now, we told you that we’d handle it. Isn’t that what you told him?”
Gade looked at the Smith in the driver’s seat.
Smith said, “That’s what I told him.”
Holden said, “I…I…Sorry. Things happened.”
“I don’t care about what happened. Now, we gotta clean all this up. Where is your guy?”
“He’s not answering his phone.”
Gade’s face turned more frustrated.
“He’s not?”
“No.”
“Do you know what that probably means?”
Holden said nothing.
“It means that he’s probably been arrested by the cops.”
“He said there was an FBI agent.”
Gade looked up at the Smiths, and then he said, “Where is he?”
“He’s passed a town called Reznor. He’s out taking care of the witness and the Fed.”
“What happened?”
Holden sat back in the seat. Black leather creaked behind him. His face was bloody from hitting the roof of the car. His gums and teeth were red.
He said, “It looks like the girl’s sister and her cop boyfriend tried to steal the money. The payment. After your guys left her.”
“Go on.”
“My guy said that the cop told him that they strangled her and dumped the body out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Where?”
“Just some road. I don’t know. It’s dead out there. There’s lots of no-name roads that lead nowhere.”
“What happened?”
“The morons didn’t kill her. They’re a pair of tweakers.”
“A tweaker cop?”
“Yeah. This is South Dakota. And they’re out in the country. It’s what happens when you grow up out there.”
Gade said, “Where’s the girl now?”
“Hospital in Deadwood.”
“How did she get there?”
“Some nobody found her.”
“So, this tweaker cop and his tweaker girlfriend didn’t kill her properly, and they didn’t dump her properly?”
“I guess not,” Holden said.
“Tell me what your man was supposed to do to take care of it.”
“The cop took the Fed and the witness who found her out to that same road. He was going to shoot them both and then meet with my guy who will bring him to us.”
“And you haven’t heard from your guy?”
“I told you. Reception is spotty out there.”
“When’s the last time you spoke to him?”
The Smith in the driver’s seat took out the phone and started to thumb through it.
He said, “Looks like two hours now.”
“What’s this guy’s name?”
“McCobb,” Holden said.
“Call him.”
The Smith in the driver’s seat hit redial and handed the phone to Holden.
Holden took it and held it to his ear. It rang and rang and went to voicemail.
“It’s voicemail.”
Gade snatched it from him and clicked off the call. He returned the phone to the Smith in the driver’s seat.
“Since we don’t know where they are, what about the sister? Where’s she?”
“She’s dead,” Holden said.
“How? Your guy do that?”
“She killed herself.”
Gade nodded.
“Guilty conscious then?”
Holden answered, “Guess so.”
“Where’s the money?”
“What?”
Gade jabbed him again, same spot on his chest, and got the same gagging and coughing reaction.
“Stop! Stop! Please! I’m on your side.”
“Where’s the money?”
“I don’t know.”
The Smith in the passenger seat said, “McCobb must be trying to steal it.”
Gade nodded, and said, “Probably. We’ll deal with him.”
He looked up at the Smith in the driver’s seat.
“Take us to the hospital in Deadwood.
Chapter 38
R OWER SAT on a hospital bed in a small room that reminded Widow of a bunk on a submarine, tight quarters and no privacy.
The room wasn’t really a room so much as a cubby in a larger room. They had a curtain to close them off from everyone else.
Widow stood with the curtain to his back.
Rower was on the bed, sitting up and cupping the huge bandage wrapped around her head.
“I feel like I’m wearing a helmet,” she said.
“It looks like a helmet,” Widow said.
Her jacket was draped over the back of a steel chair. When she took it off and set it there, she suddenly was reminded of her briefcase, which was still on the back seat of the Ford Taurus, parked at the Reznor sheriff’s station, which no longer had any employees.
Suddenly, she got a little paranoid thinking that someone might steal it, and she knew where the paranoia came from. The doctors had given her some painkillers to help with the throbbing eardrum. The effects were kicking in.
Before the nurse wrapped her head in a helmet made of bandages, the ER doctor had looked into her ear and told her that her eardrum had been ruptured. He said it probably would heal on its own, or they’d need to do surgery on it, but he couldn’t be sure until her swelling went down. But the good news was that, in time, it would work again.
She felt lucky.
Widow said, “I’ll go check on Lainey.”
“No. No way. You’re not leaving me here. We’ll both go.”
“Can you?”
“I’m not gunshot. I can walk.”
“
Okay.” Rower stood up and stumbled a little. Widow grabbed her by the arm.
She shook him off and said, “I got it.”
“Your ear controls your balance.”
“I know that.”
“Okay. No reason to shout at me.”
She lowered her voice.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Widow smiled.
She asked, “What?”
“You’re not shouting. I’m messing with you.”
She punched him in the arm and got up with his help and walked to the chair.
She pulled her Glock out of its holster and tucked it into the waistband of her pants. She untucked her shirt and draped it over the gun to conceal it. She didn’t want to scare the patients.
They walked out into the ER. There were nurses in scrubs and doctors in scrubs and orderlies in scrubs. Everyone seemed busy, casual, but busy.
She said, “I wonder which way she is?”
“Let’s find out,” Widow said. He pulled aside someone in scrubs. It was a man, but that meant nothing. It didn’t identify his position, just that he worked in the hospital.
“Where’s Lainey Olsen?”
“I don’t know who that is,” the guy said.
“Woman with missing kidney.”
Rower stepped forward and said, “She’s under guard. There’s a cop in front of her door.”
“Who are you?”
“FBI.” She went for her wallet and badge and realized they were still in her jacket.
The guy didn’t wait to see them. He said, “Oh, okay. She was moved to the fourth floor.”
“Why?”
“She woke up.”
They stepped away, and the guy in scrubs went back to doing whatever he was doing.
Rower said, “Get my badge, please. It’s in my jacket.”
Widow nodded and left her standing there. He went back and got the badge and returned to her. He handed it to her. She slipped it into her back pocket and thanked him.
They left the ER and walked to the elevator, took it up to the fourth floor.
Chapter 39
S NOW STARTED to fall in Deadwood—small, light flakes of snow. It was light and calming. Up above the dark clouds loomed over and blocked out the stars above.
