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Da
“Someplace quiet. Where even if something goes wrong” – that got Da
Da
Evan took another sip of beer. “I’m thinking an even million.”
“Too much.”
“Bullshit. You see that house?”
“It’s a five-bedroom, not the Playboy Mansion. Man doesn’t have stacks of hundreds in a suitcase.”
“How many bedrooms you have growing up?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Bullshit.” Evan put the bottle down hard, and Da
Da
“How does it work, then?”
“It doesn’t work.” Da
Evan felt the vein in his temple throb, the purr and rush of blood. He fought to keep his voice cool. “My father was an asshole. This has nothing to do with him.”
They held the stare for a moment, then Da
Evan leaned back, poured the rest of the beer down his throat. Lukewarm, it tasted like mop water.
“Listen, though,” Da
“So how much?”
“Two-fifty would be the safe play.”
“Half a mill,” Evan said.
Da
“Why not just tape him up and leave him be? Come in once a day to give him some water, let him take a leak.”
“Jesus, Evan. He’s a little kid.”
“So? It’s only a couple of days.”
Da
“So you watch him.”
“I can’t. I have to act like everything’s normal. And you can’t either, because the biggest risk is going to be when we take him. It’s best that after that, he not be around either of us. Make it harder to describe anything useful to the cops once we let him go.”
“So who?”
“I don’t know. Patrick, maybe.” Da
Evan held his gaze level, gave nothing up. Da
The man had a point, though. He didn’t need to spend three days babysitting a brat. But they’d want someone they could control. Not anyone who might try to play them. Boom. There it was. “I got it.”
“Who?”
“Girl of mine. I’ve known her awhile.”
“She’ll be okay with this?”
Evan nodded. “She’s getting desperate. She’ll do what she’s told.”
“All right. I think I know a place.”
“Yeah? Quiet?”
Da
“Why not now?”
“Because now I’m going home.” Da
Evan nodded to him, watched him walk out the door. Da
“Welcome back,” Evan said, his voice low.
20
“This is Patrick. Give me one good reason to care that you called.”
Da
He leaned forward to hang up the phone and overreached, scraping his bruised knuckles against the wall. The sudden sensation made him wince, and then smile. Popping Evan had felt good.
Not half so good as what he’d like to do to the guy, though.
Thursday night, when Karen had come in crying, Da
Then he’d turned to face the red glow of the alarm clock and imagined shooting his childhood friend in the face.
No, not imagined – pla
That night, a dark alley and a pistol with a grip-taped handle seemed like the answer.
But by morning he’d known better. The last time he’d held a gun he’d been thirteen, wilding with a rust-spotted piece Joey Biggs had snuck from under the sweaters in his dad’s closet. They’d strutted the alleys popping at crows and beer cans and the occasional factory window. Kid’s stuff a thousand miles from pointing at a human being and pulling the trigger. From watching Evan’s head explode.
And in truth, it didn’t matter. Because once he got past the anger and actually thought about things, killing Evan wasn’t an out anyway. The moment the cops found his body, Detective Sean Nolan would look up from his desk and wonder who might want to be rid of Evan McGa
Nor could he go to the cops, confess everything, and take his chances. At this point, all they had on Evan was maybe a parole violation. A weapons charge if Da
If he did the job, he protected Karen. Hell, he protected Tommy and Richard, too, by controlling the situation, making sure no one got hurt. And at the end of it, he could go back to a regular life.
It was a lousy option, but it was the smart play.
A door opened down the hall, and he heard the hardwood squeak as Karen walked toward the kitchen. He’d been hoping to leave while she was in the shower. He scooped up his keys, turned as she walked in.
“You going?”
“Work.” The lie stung him. There had been too many lately, but what choice was there?
“It’s Sunday. You’re working too hard, baby.” She smiled at him, one hand going up to adjust a bra strap. Seven years they’d been together, but every time she did that, he lost his concentration. And odds-on she knew it.
He turned around, fumbled in the cabinet, wanting a moment to get his story straight. “Yeah, you know. The winter and all.” He grabbed a glass from the second shelf, held it under the faucet.
“Da
“Huh?” He flashed a forced smile over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”