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I PARKED THE JEEP AT the back lot of River’s Edge Bistro. Alex had barely stopped the Jeep when I jumped and ran toward the back of the restaurant. My heart pounded in my chest. I had ringing in my ears.
I ran across the lot and crashed through the back door of the restaurant. My body moved much faster than my mind, and I hadn’t thought through much of what I was about to do.
Brian Mason stood over the stove at the far end of the kitchen. And by the time he turned and realized who I was, it was too late. His eyes opened wide as I leaped through the air and drove him backward into a stainless steel table. We both fell to the floor as dishes crashed around us.
I was on top of him and threw one punch after another, without giving him a chance to respond. “I knew it was you!”
Someone grabbed my arm in mid air from behind before I could land another one on Brian’s face. And it gave him a chance to throw me off of him. He turned and wrapped his arms around my torso as I tried to get to my feet. He drove me like a linebacker into the stove, and right away I felt the heat from the blue flame behind my head.
The other man, a cook tried to help Brian by throwing wild punches, but it looked like he caught Brian more than once in the back of the head.
Brian held my throat and turned to look behind him. “Why the hell are you hitting me, you idiot?” He squeezed my throat and tried to push me closer to the flame.
I reached for the handle of the pot over the flame and tried to swing it at Brian. But it was hot and wet and greasy and slipped from my hand. It crashed down to the floor and splashed at our feet and legs. Brian slipped in the hot red sauce and pulled me with him as we crashed to the floor. He wrapped his hands around my neck and pinned me down. He raised his fist in the air, about to come down on me...
Alex stepped behind Brian with her Glock pointed at the back of his head. “Get up and get off of him. Or I swear I’ll put a bullet right through the back of your thick skull.”
Brian kept his eyes on me, his breaths labored as his chest expanded in and out..
I said, “She’ll do it, you know.”
He pushed my head toward the floor as he raised both hands up over his head. He slowly stood to his feet and almost slipped again in the sauce. He was careful with each step.
I propped myself up on my elbows and raised my head to watch Alex wave her gun. She told Brian to back away from me.
He touched his mouth and looked at the tips of his fingers. There was no way to tell what was blood and what was sauce. He stared down at me. “You’re lucky your girlfriend showed up again.”
I reached for the handle on the oven and pulled myself up to one knee. I grabbed a towel from the stainless steel table next to the stove and tried to wipe the sauce covering most of my body, including my face. I looked at Brian. “I knew it was you. The whole time, I should’ve...”
“You knew what was me? You don’t know shit,” he said.
I was still breathing heavy, trying to catch my breath. “The white truck. Your friend from the gym...It was you. You sent him to kill us.”
“What friend? What white truck? What the hell are you talking about, Walsh?” He turned and looked at Alex, with his hands up over his head. “What’s he talking about?”
“We know it was you. And now we can tie it all to you and your father.”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. You’re crazy, man. I’m telling you...”
I nodded toward the back door. “Let’s go. Outside.”
The other cook who had tried to help Brian turned out to be a kid. He stood quiet and watched us as Alex kept the gun on Brian and walked him toward the back door. I gave him a look and tossed him a towel. “Maybe you should clean up the mess.”
I walked next to Alex as Brian pulled open the back door. “We can call the Sheriff’s Office,” I said. “Or you can start by talking to us...tell me who else you’re involved with. I don’t care if it’s your old man or not. You’re both going down.”
Brian stepped out ahead of us as the bright sun came through the door. He held the back of his hand up to shade his eyes. He stopped just outside the door and turned. “Where are you taking me?”
I reached past Alex and pushed Brian from behind. “Just keep walking.”
We walked around back. There were two folding chairs up against the back of the building with a small bucket between them, filled with cigarette butts.
I pushed him toward one of the chairs. “Sit down.”
He sat with his thick arms folded at his chest. “You’re going to pay for this, Walsh. I hope you know that.”
“I’m going to pay for it?” I laughed. “Why don’t you go ahead and give me the name of your goon driving that white truck that almost killed us? Or are you going to keep denying you had anything to do with it?” I put my foot up on the chair next to him. “Did you kill John yourself? Or was it your psycho friend from the gym?”
Brian’s eyes widened. “You’re serious? You think I killed John? Christ...and you call yourself a PI? You can’t find a good enough reason to prove John’s death was something more than an accident, so now you’re going to pin it on me?”
“I have a witness who knows your buddy from the gym.”
Brian looked back and forth between me and Alex. “Who is this so-called friend from the gym?” He kept his eyes down toward the ground then looked up. “If you don’t believe me, then maybe you should go ahead and call the Sheriff’s Office. Tell them how you’re so sure you caught the guy who killed John. Go ahead. I dare you. Because you have no proof at all.” He nodded toward me, his big face red and covered in sweat.
“There were witnesses up on the balcony who also saw the pickup at Kayla Morton’s apartment. And Nate Ryan spotted it two days earlier, right outside her building.”
Brian looked up at me, stared for a moment, his jaw hung loose. “Nate Ryan?” He shook his head. “If I were you, I wouldn’t believe a word that comes out of that kid’s mouth.”