Home Free (28 page)

“Pauline Horowitz.”

I was standing in the tool department of
Sears, figuring the burly flannel-clad guys who hung out there
might leap to my rescue if Ski Mask came looking for me. I spoke
into my cell phone. “I need another favor.”

“Hello and hunh-uh. Not till you tell me
what’s going on with you and Junior Salazar. I heard you were
swapping spit with him last night in front of your parents and
everybody.”

“I was, and I promise I’ll tell you all about
it, but Kevin’s going to be arrested this afternoon, and I need a
favor to help him.”

I heard her suck in her breath. “I think
maybe they already arrested him,” she said. “I’ve been trying to
get a hold of him, and he hasn’t returned my calls.”

“I was at Jenkins’ body shop the other day.”
I thought, God, was that really only yesterday? “I saw a phone in
his office. Can you tell me if it’s still connected?”

“Hold on.” I listened to the elevator music
and picked up a ratchet. I thought I might need a ratchet someday.
Then I saw a guy staring at me, and I picked up a hammer instead.
He went around the corner, shaking his head. “Alex?”

“Yep.”

“The service was never disconnected, and I’m
getting a ring when I test the line. I can’t tell you for sure if
the actual phone itself works, though. What’s going on?”

“What’s the number?” She told me, and I wrote
it on the receipt for my earrings. “If you get a hold of Kevin,
tell him to get Danny and turn themselves in. I have a really bad
feeling right now.”

“God, Alex, you’re scaring the shit out of
me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll call you back as
soon as I can.”

I hung up and dialed Danny’s home number. The
machine picked up. I tried the cell and got the same response.
Dammit. I didn’t know if he’d already been arrested, or if it was
something else. I left messages to call me on my cell phone. Then I
called Murphy’s office.

“Murphy & Sons, may I help you?”

“Doreen? It’s Alex Jordan.”

“Alex, I’m so glad to hear you’re feeling
better. What can I do for you, hon?”

“I need to speak to my husband.”

“He’s at a jobsite all day, can I give him a
message when he calls in?”

I remembered Jack said Doreen could always
get in touch with him in case of an emergency. I figured this
qualified.

“Doreen, I don’t have much time left after
all. A couple of hours, maybe. And I really need to see Jack before
it’s all over. Have him call me at this number.” I gave her my cell
number.

“Oh, dear. Well, of course I will.”

Sixty seconds later, I was in the electronics
department and my phone was ringing. “Jack?”

“Yeah, slugger, what’s up?”

“I need a huge favor. Please meet me at the
gravel yard as soon as you can. And bring small tools.” I could
picture the crease in his brow as he imagined miniature hammers and
saws. “For electronic equipment.”

“Gotcha. Be there in a jiff.”

Leave it to Sears to still sell old school
answering machines. The salesman told me model I was looking at had
two hours of record time, and it wasn’t one of those that cut the
caller off after a couple minutes. A person could talk until the
tape was full. I paid for the machine with the credit card that
still had Max’s name on it. Reliving the handcuff humiliation last
night had pissed me off a little.

I went back through the mall, and out the
main entrance to my car. There was a piece of paper stuck under the
windshield wiper, probably an advertisement for a mall merchant,
and I grabbed it and hopped in. I tossed my purse in the back seat
and set the shopping bags with the answering machine and my new
handbag on the front passenger seat. I flipped the paper over.
Sorry about our date last night. Next time, there won’t be any
interruptions
. No cute little stickers this time, just ugly
handwritten scrawl.

I looked around the parking lot, fear rising
like bile in my chest, and I flipped the door lock. I didn’t see
anything unusual. I rammed the key in the ignition and revved the
engine and squealed out of the parking space, narrowly missing a
Lincoln. I gave a sheepish wave, and the blue-haired lady driving
flipped me the bird.

I drove like a maniac to the body shop,
trying to control my panic. I pulled into the parking lot, still
breathing hard. I sat and collected my wits. I looked around. My
car stuck out like a sore, orange thumb. I pulled around back,
tucking the Element between the two shop buildings. You’d have to
be inside the body shop lot to see the car. I took the Sears bag
and went to the office. I peeked through the space I’d cleaned on
the window yesterday. The office looked the same. The back door was
locked, and I knew the front was padlocked. I sighed and called
Mikey.

“Salazar.”

“I’m about to break into the body shop. Do
you have a problem with that?”

“Hold on, I’ll be right over.”

Mikey arrived a few minutes later with a
large key ring. He didn’t say a word, just slid a key in the lock
and turned it. The door swung open.

“I’m afraid to ask,” I said.

“Probably better that way. What are you
doing?”

I opened the box and pulled the phone machine
out of its packaging. I plugged the answering machine in and
connected Jenkins’ desk phone to it. I picked up the handset and
got a dial tone. I dialed Mikey’s number. Even though we both knew
I’d done it, we still jumped when his cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mikey.”

“Want to tell me what’s going on?”

We both hung up. I glanced out the window in
time to see Murphy’s truck pull into the gravel yard lot.

“We have to go meet Jack.”

Mikey rolled his eyes.

“Okay, so you want me to disconnect the
speaker, but not the microphone, right?” Jack asked, picking up the
multi-line phone in Mikey’s office.

“Right,” I answered. “And disconnect the
little red light that comes on when you push
speaker
.”

“Uh-hunh.” Jack opened a small tool box and
fished around for something. Probably a tiny little ratchet.

I went to wait in the lunch room with Mikey.
“Hey, if this works, we can split the reward money,” I offered,
trying to lighten the mood. He was staring out the window, and I
guessed he was thinking about prison and wondering why he hadn’t
left earlier, when he’d had the chance. “What would you do with
twenty-five thousand dollars?”

Mikey blinked once. I didn’t know what that
meant. Once for sportscar, twice for boat?

“It’s not enough for a Corvette,” I plowed
on. “I don’t know what I’d do with it.”

I was quiet after that. It occurred to me
that, most likely, I’d either be twenty-five thousand dollars
richer tomorrow, or I’d be dead. It was hard to focus on the riches
when the other option seemed far more probable. I’d never seriously
thought about being dead before. It wasn’t much fun.

“Okay, you’re all set,” Jack hollered from
the office. We both jumped and looked at each other. I took a deep
breath as we walked into the office. I thanked Jack and waited till
he’d gathered up his tools and left.

“I’m going back to the body shop. Here’s the
number. Call me in a minute.”

I thrust the receipt with the phone number at
him. Mikey grabbed my arm and looked at me, his black eyes intent
on mine.

“We are not going to die, Alex.” I wasn’t
sure which one of us he was trying to convince.

“Yeah, I know that,” I lied.

“And after all this is over,” he said, the
usual grin returning, “maybe you can do something about your hair.
You know, get a perm. Something.”

“Watch it, pal, or I’ll let Brian do whatever
he wants with you.”

He laughed. “No you won’t. You’d miss me. Now
get the hell out of here.” I turned to go. He stopped me again.
“Wait.” He pulled the gun out of his waistband and handed it to me.
“I guess I better not have this on me. You know how to use it?”

I rolled my eyes. I grew up in redneck
country, so like most kids I learned to shoot at a young age. My
dad and my brothers liked to hunt, but the little dead birds at the
end of the day depressed me, so I stuck with target practice. I
hadn’t been to the range in a couple years, but I guessed I could
still shoot a damn Glock.

The phone was ringing when I got back to the
body shop.

“Hello?”

“Alex, you there?”

“I can hear you, Mikey, can you hear me?” I
heard the click of the handset being lifted. “Hey, I take it you
couldn’t hear me through the speaker?” I asked.

“Not a peep. And the light’s not on.”

“Good. Put it back on speaker and leave the
line open. I’ll start recording when my brother shows up.” I
sounded sure of myself and my plan. In reality, I thought I might
barf any minute. I took out my cell phone and punched in Jimmy C’s
number, but didn’t hit
call
. I set it on the filthy desk
next to the answering machine phone. I looked around for something
to wipe Jenkins’ soot-covered chair off with, but gave up and sat
down. With twenty-five thousand dollars, I could buy a new pair of
501s. I arranged the chair so I had a view of the gravel yard
through the clear spot in the window.

Cars began filing out of the gravel yard
about quarter after five, and by five thirty, a lone white
Salazar’s Sand & Gravel
pickup was the only vehicle
left. I watched a few minutes later as the Music Man car pulled
into the lot, followed by a black Bronco I didn’t recognize. Both
cars parked, and Brian got out of the BMW. A very large Samoan man
got out of the back of the Bronco. Brian’s left hand was bandaged.
The Samoan tucked a gun into the waistband of his pants. Shit. The
windows of the Bronco were tinted, and I wondered if the driver was
also an armed islander.

Brian and his muscle disappeared into the
office, and I hit the record button on the answering machine. I
made a deal with God to eat more vegetables and floss regularly if
he would make sure the machine didn’t malfunction.

“Brian, how are you?” I heard Mikey ask. His
voice sounded normal, relaxed.

“Junior.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Bruno?” Brian asked, snorting. “Bruno’s
nobody’s friend.” I heard a sickening
whump
sound and felt a
wave of nausea wash over me. There was the sound of fabric tearing,
and then drawers being opened and slammed shut. I guessed they were
looking for a wire or a recording device. Apparently satisfied,
Brian went on, “I have a proposition for you.”

“I’m listening.” Me too, I thought.

“I want you to confess to killing Chambers
and setting the fire next door.”

Mikey grunted, and there was another
whump
. God, just answer him, I thought. “Why would I
confess? I didn’t do it. Besides, that’d be my third strike, and
I’d go away for life. There’s no way.”

“Really, life? You think so? Because I think
with the political climate being what it is, they’d go for the
special circumstances and give you the death penalty. But you’re
right, either way, you’d go away forever.”

“So why would I confess?”
Whump
.

“Well, let’s see. You confess, and the police
have no reason to arrest your brother, or mine, for that
matter.”

“They’ll never be able to convict either of
them, anyway. There’s not enough evidence. Besides, the police are
already looking at you. You fucked up with the Henderson fire,”
Mikey bluffed. Oh shit, I thought, bracing myself against Jenkins’
chair. There was the
whump
,
whump
, followed by a
whoosh of air, Mikey getting the wind knocked out of him.

“The Henderson fire was brilliant.
Unfortunately, it didn’t accomplish the objective. Fine, let’s look
at the alternative. You don’t confess. Danny and Kevin kill you,
you end up dead anyway, and they go to prison forever.”

Hunh? I didn’t follow his logic. Evidently,
neither did Mikey. “What are you talking about? Even if they think
I did it, Danny and Kevin won’t kill me for not confessing.”

“No. But they would kill you for raping and
torturing my sister, and leaving her to die. Kevin’s always been
fairly protective of her, and Danny - well you know those hero
types. Of course, it’ll be too late to save her.”

The room got bright and started to spin and
the roar took over my brain, and I put my hand out to the desk to
steady myself. I took a deep breath and willed myself not to faint.
Then I found a waste paper basket and planted it firmly between my
feet and heaved. Chow mein. Yuck.

I wondered if Ted Bundy was somebody’s
brother. Jesus.

“They’d never believe I’d hurt her.”
Whump
. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight. Your little
plan is to let Bruno here brutalize your own sister and then shoot
me, and make the whole thing look like I raped Alex, and Danny and
Kevin killed me?”

“I guess Bruno’s knocking some sense into
you. Now you’re getting it. Of course, I hope it doesn’t come to
that.”
Whump
,
whump
.

Of course.

“The DNA will prove I didn’t rape her.”

“It won’t matter. You’ll already be
dead.”

“They’ll deny killing me.”

“The cops will find you and Alex, dead, a
taser in your hand. Danny and Kevin will be found nearby,
unconscious, presumably from the taser, and unable to remember
anything, one of them holding the gun that you were shot with. I’ll
let you pick which one. I had my associates pick them up hours ago,
so no one’s seen them all day. No alibis.” No wonder Pauline and I
hadn’t been able to find them. I glanced at the Bronco and wondered
if they were inside. I was surprised insurance salesmen and
political wanna-be’s had so much time to plan such revolting
schemes.