11

I drove back toward the Glades, the heat pouring down like anger from the sun. As the road shimmered ahead of me, I pictured the quiet house where Lenny and Martin would be waiting: Martin, for his mother, and Lenny, for news that I was dead. I glanced at Alice’s phone on the passenger seat as it rang again – the ninth or tenth time in the past hour. Lenny calling from the house, no doubt, to find out what had happened. I let the call ring out, and tried to steel myself. I didn’t know if I had what it would take to kill him in cold blood, certainly not in front of Martin. If we’d found just one more piece of evidence – something less circumstantial – I might have been be able to wriggle out of having to do this. I might have been able to convince Southwest to hand it over to the courts. But it was too late for that. I needed to stay strong now. Focused. I needed to finally finish the job that I’d been sent to do.

Willard was going to arrange a DNA test to confirm that Samantha Lederer was the unidentified woman at the cabin. I had little doubt the results would come back positive. But the question still itched at me. Lenny may have been responsible for her death, but what the hell had Will Jerome been doing at the exact same cabin, four years later? It couldn’t have just been a coincidence. Unless Jerome was part of it, maybe. Maybe he and Lenny were both responsible for her death – Jerome heading back to the cabin in a bid to move the body before it was found. But then why the bomb? Unless Lenny decided that Jerome had to be removed too. The problem was I didn’t buy any of that for a second. Jerome just didn’t fit the profile.

As I rolled the possibilities around in my head, I sat upright at the wheel, a moment of clarity crystallizing in me. Jerome may not have been involved, but there was a detail to that scenario that made sense. Lenny would have tried to move the body at some point. When he murdered her, the cabin may have been the only option for him. But her body was buried under an occupied residence. It wasn’t exactly the most secure of places, not for that period of time. He’d probably have had his people go back to move it – certainly if he’d found out there was a PI sniffing around. There might be records of his guys renting the cabin in order to do so. Shit, there might even be records that Lenny had been there in the first place.

I grabbed the phone and pulled up the case details on the Southwest site. The couple who’d owned the cabin, Jonathon and Louise McRae, died in the blast. But among the people that the police had interviewed was Louise’s sister, Janet. I stared at her details – her phone number in New York.

I dialed the number and waited, praying for any kind of lead, anything that might provide a stay of execution.

A woman’s voice picked up the call. ‘Hello?’

‘Janet McRae?’ I said.

‘That’s right.’

‘Hi, my name’s Rick Sullivan, I’m a journalist looking into the Oregon bombing. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?’

The chirpiness in her voice faded. ‘I’ve really got nothing else to say about this.’

‘I’m sure. It’s just a couple of outstanding queries I thought you might be able to help me with.’

She paused uneasily. ‘What queries?’

‘Your sister and her husband lived in the cabin, right?’

‘That’s right.’

‘When did they first buy the place?’

‘Er... about eight years ago.’

‘And they rented it out.’

‘Occasionally, during the summer. But they stopped after Jonathon retired.’

‘When was that?’

‘About three... nearly four years ago.’

Soon after Samantha Lederer’s death. ‘Do they have records of who they rented it to?’

‘I don’t know. If they did, they were destroyed in the blast.’

I sighed. Fuck, no record that Lenny had been there. I stared out of the windshield a moment, and tried to think. Jonathon McRae retires, then stops renting the cabin. If Lenny’s guys had tried to move the body, how would they have gotten back in? Unlike planting a bomb which probably wouldn’t have needed more than a few minutes, removing a buried body would have taken some time.

‘Did they ever have any remodeling work or maintenance done after Jonathon retired?’ I asked.

‘They never mentioned it. Why?’

‘I’m trying to find out if anyone else had access to the cabin for any extended period of time. What about vacations? Did they ever visit family, anything like that?’

‘We tended to visit them there... it was beautiful. They’d visit Jonathan’s cousins in Maine occasionally, but they had friends who’d look after the cabin while they were gone. The place was rarely empty, if that’s what you mean.’

The wind in my sails started to fade. ‘And you’re sure they never rented it out again?’

‘I don’t think so. Jonathon got an offer a couple of years ago, a huge offer. He still wasn’t interested.’

I slowed the car a little.

‘What do you mean a huge offer?’ I said. ‘What offer?’

‘Some man turned up, offered Jonathon ten thousand dollars for one weekend.’

‘One weekend? Who?’

‘I don’t know. All Jonathon said was this man turned up with a lot cash.’

My heart jumped a gear.

‘Did he give you any kind of description of the guy?’ I said.

‘Not really. Just that he was rich, that’s all.’

‘He didn’t mention his age, appearance, anything?’

‘No.’

‘Please, try to think. It doesn’t matter how small the detail.’

‘Really, he just mentioned it in passing. Why?’

‘Where did they meet, at the cabin?’

Her tone turned edgy. ‘I don’t know.’

Fuck. This was our guy, I was sure of it. Who offers ten grand for one weekend at a cabin? It wasn’t some palace in Monaco. My mind raced as I tried to get a handle on it. It would have to have been one of Lenny’s most trusted men – Cole or Paddy maybe.

‘Might your husband know anything else about this?’ I said.

‘My husband?’

‘Jonathon might have mentioned some detail to him.’

She sighed irritably. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Sullivan, but I’m done answering your questions.’

‘Please, just...’

‘I’m sorry. Good bye.’

My heart sank as she hung up.

I stared at the phone, my finger hovering over the redial button. But I was clutching at straws here – and desperately so. This was less about proving Lenny did it, and more about getting me off the hook. Shit, even if it had been Lenny himself who’d offered ten grand for the cabin, that probably wouldn’t prove anything in court either.

There was no escaping this.

I took a deep breath, then gazed out at the highway. The mangroves rising out of the haze signaled the house was only a few short miles away now. Whoever this mystery man at the cabin may have been, I was out of time. I glanced uneasily at the glove compartment, then reached inside and grabbed the pistol. I might have wanted to avoid shooting Lenny in cold blood, but chances are I’d now be shooting in self-defense. He was going to know something had happened to Alice by now. The moment he realized it was me entering the house, things were going to get bad for sure. I checked the clip, then slipped it into my jacket pocket.

I pulled into the quiet neighborhood, the scattered buildings sitting within the trees like an old frontier town. I stopped the car a couple of streets away from the house, and switched off the phone – I didn’t want another call from Lenny signaling my arrival. I eyed the house through the branches. A shady stillness through the windows. Lenny would probably be watching the front – he might even have told Martin to watch the back. I glanced around the empty streets, then got out of the car. I secured the gun in my belt, and crept through the brushwood toward the backyard. Cicadas chirped in the heat as I slipped behind a twisted oak at the edge of the yard. I stared carefully at the windows trying to make out any movement in the house. A tiny grass snake winding through the dry scrub beside me. I gazed at the upper windows, but the reflections remained still.

I grabbed a small stone from the ground, measured its weight, then tossed it at the roof of the rear porch. It landed on the tin tiles, clattering as it bounced into the gutter.

No sound. No movement. Nothing.

The pistol gripped firmly in my hand, I eyed the porch. The rear door sitting in the shade of the overhang. I darted away from the tree, across the lawn, then slowed to a crawl as my feet hit the wooden porch decking. I calmed my breathing and glanced through the main window. The living room looked empty, nothing stirring in the shadowy room. I eyed the tiny glass panel in the door that I’d broken last night. I reached through the hole, unlocked the door, and silently spun inside. My heart raced as I scanned the corners. I held the pistol in front of me, listening carefully as I stepped toward the staircase.

I went still. A sound from upstairs.

Crying.

I leaned my head around the base of the staircase, a floorboard creaking under my weight. As I shifted my foot, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Martin. Tears in his eyes as stared down at me.

‘Go away,’ he said.

‘Martin,’ I whispered.

‘Go away.’

‘Are you OK?’

He wiped his face. ‘Please.’

I kept my eyes on him as I slowly climbed the stairs. I reached the upper landing, Martin standing firm as he tried to block my path. I peered into the bedroom. Lenny was lying on the mattress. His face, pale. His lips, cracked and dry. Only the faintest movement in his chest as he struggled to breathe.

I eyed Martin a moment, then gently ushered him to one side.

‘Please don’t hurt him,’ he said.

I headed into the bedroom, and stared at Lenny’s hands: a pistol in one, the house phone resting in the weak, uncurled fingers of the other. I headed over to the bed, removed the pistol from his hand, and slipped it into my jacket pocket.

He opened his eyes and tried to focus. However sick he may have felt, the look on his face sank even further as he realized who was in the room.

‘What did you do to her?’ he said.

‘She’s safe,’ I replied.

I turned to Martin. ‘Your mom’s safe.’

‘Where is she?’ said Lenny.

‘With a friend of mine.’

Lenny eyed me for a moment, then coughed weakly.

‘Here for me, are you?’ he said.

I glanced at Martin. ‘Go to your room, I need to speak to your grandpa.’

Martin shook his head.

‘It’s going to be fine,’ I said. ‘Martin? Please.’

He stared at the gun in my hand. I slid it away into my jacket. I wasn’t going to need it. Lenny didn’t look like he was going to make it to the end of the day.

‘Please?’ I said to Martin.

Lenny raised his head. ‘It’s fine, Martin. Go to your room.’

He waved a hand for him to go. Martin eyed him nervously a moment. As he slowly stepped next door, I closed the door behind him. I pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed, Lenny reaching for breath as he watched me.

I held his look.

‘I know it was you,’ I said. ‘The bombing... the PI... the girl at the cabin.’

‘Would it make any difference if I said you were wrong?’

‘Why did you kill her? Samantha Lederer?’

‘I didn’t.’

I gritted my teeth. I wanted to hear it from him. I needed to silence those last, lingering doubts in me.

I glanced out of the bedroom window at the leaves glistening in the sunlight. The branches bending lazily in the breeze.

‘You believe in God, Lenny?’

He chuckled to himself. ‘A Godless universe could never have made us. It takes something genuinely stupid for that.’

He laid his head back on the pillow, then wiped the sweat from his eyes – his hand falling weakly against the mattress.

Silence as he lay there. Just the trees rustling in the breeze.

‘What are you waiting for?’ he said. He glanced at me, then shook his head. ‘Worst fucking hitman I’ve ever seen.’

‘I’m taking Martin and Alice to Key West,’ I said.

‘Good.’

He strained to reach for the scrap of paper he’d noted the address down on.

I nodded. ‘It’s fine, Carolands House, Atlantic Boulevard, I’ve got it.’

He sank back onto the pillow. ‘The guy’s called Bodie. Give him the money, he’ll be fine.’ He licked at his cracked lips. ‘You’ll make sure they get out?’

I nodded.

As he caught his breath, he gazed into the distance. ‘He’s all that matters to me, you know,’ he said. ‘Martin. I’ve never been scared of anything my whole life. But the moment he turned up with Alice... the moment I realized who they were. I was terrified.’

He glanced at me. ‘You got kids?’

I shook my head.

‘Fear like nothing else,’ he said.

‘Tell me why you did it, Lenny.’

He closed his eyes.

‘I’ve got phone records that...’

‘You’ve got nothing! Obviously! It wasn’t me.’

His body shuddered as he coughed. ‘Not that it fucking matters now.’

‘I need to know, Lenny.’

He laughed again. ‘Honestly... worst ever.’

‘You’re going to die, you understand? Tell me it was you, and I’ll do what I can... get you to a doctor...’

‘Oh, stop.’

He leaned toward the edge of the bed, then reached out a hand and took hold of my arm. The conviction in his eyes as he stared at me.

‘I’m not having my grandson think that of me,’ he said.

He held my look a moment, then let go of me and rolled back onto the pillow.

‘Maybe this is how it has to be,’ he said. ‘Maybe Emilio has to take over.’

He gazed back out of the window. ‘You know, when I was growing up, the Italians still ran my neighborhood. You could deal with them, you know. There were some mean ones... but most of them were just talkers. Italians like to make threats, you know... horse’s heads, dead fish. When Al Capone died I bet he was more scared of the pets he’d run into in the afterlife than the people. But the Mexicans... Mexicans are different. They’ll kill anybody. For anything. It’s a new world. I’m too soft for it now.’

He glanced at me. ‘Like you. You won’t last in this business. You care... it’s no good.’ He nodded to himself, then glanced at the door. ‘Go check he’s OK.’

I kept my eyes on him. He might have been playing me, but the voices in me that spoke Lonos’ name were gaining strength again. I felt lost.

I sighed, then got to my feet and headed for the bedroom door.

‘Be gentle with him,’ he said. ‘He thinks you’re here to kill me. Some hope of that, huh?’

I headed out onto the landing and into the neighboring room. Martin was sitting cross-legged on the floor. As I knelt down in front of him, he stared at me, a look in his eyes like I was a ghost.

‘I didn’t hurt him, OK?’ I said. ‘But he’s sick. I’m going to take you to your mom.’

‘We can’t leave him.’

‘I need to get you guys out.’

A sound from outside – the clunk of a car door in the distance. I headed over to window and checked. The road looked quiet, just a family saloon pulling away beyond the trees.

I glanced back at Martin. ‘It’s going to be fine.’

He eyed me uneasily.

‘I did something bad,’ he said. ‘I thought you were going to hurt him.’

‘I’m not. I told you.’

He stared down at his hands, then toward the phone on the bedside table

‘I called the police,’ he said.

I gazed at him for a second.

‘He wouldn’t wake up,’ he said. ‘He said you were going to come for him now. I didn’t know what to do.’ My heartbeat faded. ‘When?’

‘I don’t know... an hour ago.’

‘Did you tell them your name? Lenny’s?’

He nodded.

I closed my eyes. ‘Martin, you shouldn’t have done that.’

‘I was scared.’

Fuck.

More noises from outside. As I stepped back to the window, I caught a glimpse of a long shadow disappearing behind one of the neighboring houses. I gazed down the street – movement beyond the branches.

My heart thumping against my chest, I gazed back at Martin, then grabbed him off the floor.

I hushed him. ‘Quiet.’

I hurried him out of the bedroom and back into Lenny’s room.

‘Lonos’ guys are here,’ I said.

Lenny raised his head from the pillow.

Footsteps running down the side of the house. Muffled voices. I stared at the porch roof just below the bedroom window.

‘Give me a gun,’ said Lenny.

The downstairs door creaking open. I put down Martin, grabbed my gun, then ran over to the staircase. A figure standing at the bottom holding an automatic weapon. Before I could raise my gun, a cracking sound split the air. I collapsed onto the landing – the bullet tearing at my head. My body lying useless on the floorboards. Blood blurring my vision. I tried to move as the footsteps clambered up the stairs. But it was no use.

Martin’s screams faded to an echo as everything went black.