Last Call

He needed to get to his phone. Slowly carefully he started crawling on hands and knees, moving along the outside of the bar.

His cell started ringing again – the second time in the past three minutes. Theo kept moving, knowing that the call would roll over to voice mail after six rings. But on the fourth ring, another sound sailed directly over his head – a piercing but muffled sound of a speeding projectile that silenced his phone and shattered it into pieces that flew across the room. Theo froze. His worst fears were realized.

Someone was toying with him

And they had come to finish the job.

"HELLO?" JACK SAID into his cell.

It struck him as odd that Theo s phone had cut off after four rings. One ring and then to voice mail meant that Theo's cell wasn't turned on. Six rings meant that the phone was on but Theo wasn't answering.

But four rings and no answer? Weird.

"Stay here," he told Cy. He climbed out of his car and stepped into the alley.

Part of him wanted to dial 911, but it seemed silly to call the cops because a six-foot-five ex-con didn't answer his cell after four rings. Each tentative step down the dimly lit alley, however, made the idea seem less silly.

Jack peeked inside Theo's parked car and tried the door handle. Empty and locked. He continued past the Dumpster, and a sudden movement sent his heart into his throat. A cat jumped down from a stack of crushed cardboard boxes. He gave his pulse a moment to return to mere triple digits – or so it felt – and then he tried the back door. He expected it to be locked, but it wasn't. It creaked open.

"Theo?" he said, calling inside.

There was no answer.

Jack reached around the door frame, found the light switch in the darkness, and flipped it to the on position.

Nothing.

Before Jack could even begin to process what it meant, he heard the quick footsteps, caught a glimpse of the blur in the blackness coming toward him, and absorbed the full impact of what hit him like a charging bull. Jack's feet left: the floor, the air fled his lungs, and he landed flat on his back in the open doorway. His arms flailed uselessly in a defensive reflex as the man who'd bowled him over stepped on his chest on the way out.

"He's got a gun!" Theo shouted.

Still disoriented, Jack struggled to roll for cover. Theo grabbed his arm and dragged him behind the open door. Jack tried to keep an eye on his attacker, but in the darkness the man was nothing more than a silhouette racing away from him, down the alley.

Then he heard an engine fire and tires squealing into the night.

"He took your car!" Theo shouted.

Jack's head was pounding, but suddenly he was thinking clearly again. "Your uncle came back with me. He's got Cy!"

Jack's cell rang. The caller ID said it was from Uncle Cy.

"Are you hurt?" said Jack.

"Don't call the cops," said Cy, his voice quaking. "And don't report your car stolen. He says he'll kill me if you do."

Jack could hear the fear in the old man's voice, and he wanted to say something reassuring. But the call disco

Chapter 43

Theo didn't even stop to think. He knew what to do. He got in his car and drove.

Jack had wanted to call Andie. Theo said no. Jack wanted to call the police. Theo said hell no. Jack explained that the cops could run a ballistics test on the bullet that took out Theo's cell, which could be a link to the shooter's identity. Jack asked him to wait. Theo said, "Are you out of your fucking mind?" and bolted out the door.

Jack knew better than to try and follow him.

It was after 10:00 P.M., and Theo figured Lance Gilford would be home. A quick call to directory assistance gave him the address. He parked on the street, walked up the front steps, and pounded on the door.

There was no answer, but Gilford's car was in the driveway, the lights were on inside the house, and Theo could hear the late-night news on television. This time, he beat the door with both fists.

Theo heard footsteps in the foyer, and Gilford a

"Who is-" Gilford started to say, but Theo didn't give him a moment to reconsider. With every bit of force he could muster, Theo laid his shoulder into the door. It practically exploded on impact, the chain ripping off a chunk of the wood frame as the door flew open. Gilford was knocked backward and fell to the ground. Theo slammed the door shut, grabbed Gilford with two hands, picked him up off the floor like a rag doll, and shoved him hard against the wall.

"Where's my uncle?" he said, seething.

Gilford's eyes were wide with fright. "Who's your uncle?"

"Cyrus Knight."

"I don't know any Cyrus. Honest."

Theo squeezed him by the throat. "Who are you protecting?"

He gasped for air. "No… body."

At that moment, Theo realized that he hadn't come just to find Uncle Cy He felt himself roiling with the rape of his mother. However far she'd nosedived in life, it had all happened after that rape at the frat house. Portia Knight was a mere teenager in that movie. She was not yet any of the things Theo would later come to hate about her. Not many strippers became nuns, to be sure. But a stripper wasn't necessarily a drug addict, a prostitute, or a horrible mother. Something made her that way. And Lance Gilford was part of that "something."

Theo got right in his face, eye-to-eye. "Portia Knight was my mother. You know who raped her. And whoever it was, he now has my uncle."

"Can't…breathe."

"Who was it?" Theo relaxed his grip, allowing him to speak.

Gilford coughed as he sucked in precious air.

Theo said, "Who was it?"

"Nobody… nobody got raped," said Gilford.

Somewhere in his heart Theo thanked God he didn't have a weapon, but he couldn't ignore the urgency of the situation – not with Cy in danger.

"Where's your garage?" said Theo.

Gilford seemed confused.

"Where is it?" Theo shouted.

"Side door, through the kitchen."

Theo twisted Gilford's arm up behind his back, muscled him into the kitchen and pushed through the door. It was a one-car garage with no vehicle inside. Theo shoved him to the concrete floor, took a long orange extension cord from a hook on the wall, and hog-tied Gilford's wrists and ankles. Then he grabbed his gray ponytail, jerking his head back.

"I'm givin' you one more chance," said Theo. "Who are you protectin'?"

"No one. I'm not lying to you."

Theo wanted to hurt him so badly he couldn't stand it. "Where's your tools?"

Gilford let out a pathetic whimper. "What are you going to do?"

"Fix your car," said Theo, and then he yanked so hard on the ponytail that it stretched the wrinkles out of Gilford's face. "What do you think I'm go

"Over there," said Gilford, "by the workbench."

Theo found a stand-up tool chest and searched quickly through a dozen drawers, not sure what he was looking for, his mind racing with thoughts of creative interrogation. He had a couple of possibilities when he looked up and noticed the power tools mounted on the pegboard. He chose the power drill, plugged it in, and pulled the trigger.

Gilford winced at the mere sound of it.

"Come on, man," said Gilford. "You don't want to do this."

"Where's your bits?"

"Please. Don't hurt me."

"I said where's your damn drill bits?"

"Tool drawer by the light switch. But-"

"Shut up!

The bits were organized by size in a plastic case. Theo took the ski