Like many bars in New Jersey, the Third Quarter was a dive. Or no—calling it a dive was too generous. What it really was was a piece of shit. Located in Union City, not too far from the train tracks, it was the kind of place where you’d expect a stabbing or shooting at least once a week. It wasn’t the kind of place I’d expect to find my old partner, but it had been almost twenty years since I had last seen him, and I knew more than anyone else that things change.
It was almost two o’clock in the morning. The parking lot was half full, which was surprising for the amount of snow falling from the sky. A foot had already fallen, and the snow kept coming.
When Hector Sanchez had entered the bar a half hour ago, he had been wrapped in a parka with a wool hat on his head. Now he exited the place with the same parka and hat, only now he carried a black gym bag.
He trudged through the parking lot toward the Crown Victoria parked ten spaces away. It was an old model, probably a retired cop car which had since been put to pasture and sold on the cheap. Sanchez had probably gotten it for a steal. He had probably also gotten it because he couldn’t get comfortable behind the wheel of any other car. Once you drive a particular car for so long, everything else just feels wrong.
As Sanchez approached the Crown Vic, I stepped out of the Charger and quietly shut the door.
He opened the back door first, tossed in the gym bag, then went to open the driver’s door. That was when I slipped up behind him. I’d moved soundlessly enough, but still he paused, cocked his head slightly to the side.
“Whatever you plan on doing, do it quick. Otherwise, I reach for the piece I have holstered on my belt and put you down.”
This wasn’t at all what I had expected him to say. Not that the situation might not warrant it, but I’d never known my partner to say such things. For a second, I wondered if maybe I had the wrong guy. But no—it was his voice. Aged twenty years, yes, but it was his voice.
“That any way to say hello to your old partner?”
He stood still for a long moment, almost as if he didn’t hear me. Then he turned, slowly, wiping away the snow falling on his face, and squinted at me.
“Eli?”
“Been a while.”
“What … what are you doing here?”
Pussyfooting around had never been something either of us cared for, so I cut to the chase.
“I need your help.”
The door to the bar opened and pounding heavy metal poured outside as people left. Sanchez watched them for a moment, his expression all at once guarded, then lowered his voice.
“We shouldn’t be talking here.”
“Then let’s go.”
“Where?”
But I wasn’t sure what to tell him. Not yet. I motioned at the car.
“How about you drive. I’ll explain on the way.”
“On the way to where?”
“In the car.”
“Eli, I haven’t seen or heard from you in twenty years. Not one word. And suddenly you show up and expect me to help you with something?”
I didn’t know why, but his reluctance hurt a bit. For some reason, I’d expected more out of him. Then again, it had been twenty years. Loyalty only lasted so long.
“We’re partners. Were partners, yes, but I’m hoping that’s enough.”
“Hoping what’s enough?”
“It’s about my son.”
“What about your son?”
Clearly he didn’t follow the news. Or if he did, he didn’t remember my son’s name.
“James’s wife was murdered. His children were murdered. He’s currently missing.”
Sanchez’s mouth dropped open a bit. He stared for a long moment, then took a deep breath.
“Fine, get in the car. I’ll give you as much help as I can, but don’t expect it to be much.”
I started around the car to the passenger side.
“Thank you.”
Sanchez opened his door.
“You can fill me in on the way.”
“On the way to where?”
But he only shook his head, dropped down behind the wheel.
I slid into the passenger seat. The car’s interior reeked of the ghost of stale cigarettes and coffee. It may have been years since it was last used in service, but it was clearly a retired cop car.
“How many miles are on this thing?”
“Too many.”
He started the car, and the engine didn’t sound nearly as healthy as it probably had a decade ago.
“Buckle up. The weather as bad as it is, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”