The Blade Itself

“Just come home to me.” She hung up.

He took a sip from his coffee and glanced around, more from nerves than necessity. Oversize canvasses painted like comic books hung on the brick walls, and the counter guy had piercings in his eyebrows and those weird metal rings stretching his ears into hoops. The coffeehouse was in the vanguard of gentrification, one of a handful of new businesses trying to capitalize on the building boom in the area. It was a little premature. Ukrainian grandmothers and Latino day laborers still dramatically outnumbered hipsters willing to drop five bucks on a cappuccino. But it fit Da

The idea had come to him last night. It was a dangerous move, sure, but at least it was a move. Proactive instead of reactive. The idea had popped into his head, and he’d straightened suddenly and said, “Tommy.”

“The boy?” Karen had looked confused.

“He’s the key to all of this. If we take him away, then Evan has nothing.”

She’d stared at him. “He still has a gun.”

“That’s true.” He’d met her gaze. “But at least it’s not pointed at anybody i

They’d turned the plan over between the two of them, trying to plug holes. After a while they’d gone to bed and made love for the first time in weeks. It had started soft and sweet, but pretty soon they were going at it with a rawness that hadn’t been part of their sex for a long time. Afterward, she’d left her thigh flung across his body and fallen asleep with him still inside her. He lay there like that and stared at the ceiling, turning the plan over in his head.

It was simple enough. Snatch Tommy when Evan wasn’t around. Talk Debbie into hiding out for a little while. Once the boy was safe, Karen would call Nolan from a pay phone and tell him enough about the murder in the diner parking lot to get his attention. Then she’d tell him that the man who committed it would be coming to the Pike Street site later that day. If all went well, Nolan would stake it out and pick Evan up. The guy would have parole violations and probably a weapons charge, more than enough to hold him while the murder charges got sorted out.

What would happen then was a little dicier. But at least Evan wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone again.

He stood up, lacing his fingers and stretching them above his head, feeling his body pop and crack. The counter guy didn’t look up from his novel as Da

After turning onto Pike Street, he drove past the construction site, sca

He pulled up to the gate and stepped out. The wind tugged at his clothes, cold and with a hint of chocolate from the candy factory a mile away. He kept his motions calm and even, inconspicuous. Everything looked right – the trailer was shuttered and dark, the door closed. Debbie’s Tempo sat beside it. Thank God. Evan had called her back in to babysit Tommy and not stayed himself. Da

The chain clanked as he unlocked it and let it dangle against the fence. He pushed the gate open, adrenaline pounding. He got in the truck, pulled into the yard, and made a quick three-point turn to back the Explorer up to the trailer door.

If luck was really with them, Evan wouldn’t mention the kidnapping once he was in custody – after all, it was a federal charge and would add time to his sentence. Da

And if not?

Then he was going to jail.

Da

He took the cinder-block steps in a stride, opened the door, and stepped in. The lights were off and the windows were shuttered. After the bright morning sun, the trailer was dim as a cave. A thick smell of burned coffee and rotting garbage filled the air. If Debbie was there, she was sitting in the dark.

He almost called her name, stopped himself. She clearly wasn’t there; no point in Tommy overhearing anything now. Where could she be? The plan relied on her help. Did he dare wait? Time was precious – Evan could show up at any moment.

Suddenly, he realized that Tommy hadn’t made a sound. Not when he’d thrown the door open, and not since.

He remembered the little moan Tommy had given as the pistol pressed his forehead, the way Evan had smiled and winked. His imagination furnished a terrible vision of Tommy silent and still, duct tape binding his arms and legs, dark brown blood surrounding a hole like a third eye in his forehead. Da

He felt fabric, cushions. His hands patted the sofa wildly, covering it in broad sweeps. Nothing.

Panic seizing him, he scrambled to his feet and reached for the light switch. The glare spilled across the tacky sofa. The fabric looked garish, stained and sunken. Scraps of duct tape dangled from the arms and legs of the couch, their ends ragged. The torn cover from a box of microwave quesadillas lay precisely in the center of the couch.

With shaking fingers, Da

He blinked, stared at the note, back at the sofa.

Tommy was gone.

Da

He had to get out of there. Regroup, figure something out.

What? What can you possibly do now?

Evan had somehow anticipated him. It seemed like every time he made the slightest progress, something conspired to take it back. He felt that old tightrope feeling, like a lean in any direction could be fatal. Without Debbie, without Tommy, Da

He shook his head, ordered himself to move. Time had been tight before. Now it was absolutely desperate. Somehow, he had to think of a way to turn things around before Evan got in touch with Richard. Every second counted. He bent, took the note, folded it, and tossed it in the trash. Pulled the duct tape off the couch and threw it in as well. The trailer needed a thorough cleaning and wipe-down, but he couldn’t afford to do it now. He turned off the light, reached for the door handle, and stepped out into the glaring sunlight.