Chapter One

Emil Eifler’s short and skinny stature did him no favors in that moment as the full force of Devonte’s threat hit him. Devonte Grillo was extremely angry. “It’s not my problem how you collect from your clients,” he said, glaring at Emil. “But it is your problem how and when you pay me. I don’t know why I let you have stuff on credit, but it isn’t happening anymore. I only did it because you begged me, if you recall. Well, begging won’t help now. And there’s one more thing: I think you’re skimming off some of what you owe me.” He stepped closer and shoved a finger at Emil’s face. “Nobody steals from me.”

Devonte was six feet tall and stocky with large muscles. His black hair was combed straight back from his forehead, and his narrow face held a neatly trimmed beard and moustache. If one could see his heart, it must also have been black. He was a dangerous man. He took his business seriously, and when a small-time drug pusher like Emil did not pay after being granted a special favor, or skimmed some of the proceeds, Devonte would breathe out threats, and he meant every word.

“I haven’t skimmed anything. I promise you that. I’m an honest businessman,” Emil said.

Devonte snorted. “You’re also a liar.”

“I’ll get you the money in a couple days,” Emil said, his whole body trembling. “I’ve got some guys who owe me, and I’ll get the money from them right away.”

Devonte stared at him, threat pouring from his eyes. “If you want to give credit, that’s up to you, but you will not use that as an excuse to not pay me on time. You’re an idiot. Pay tonight, and I want to see some extra to make up for what you’ve been stealing. Go get the money and get everything paid to me tonight. You get no more product until you pay and then only if you have the cash.”

“But I need it today. I have guys who depend on it or they get angry,” Emil begged. “Let me have some up front one more time, and I won’t ask again. I’ll be able to pay you if you do.”

“Your customers won’t be as angry as me,” Devonte said. “Tonight, Emil. Pay up and bring extra cash if you need more product. I’ll let you know where to meet me with the money.”

“I’ll get the money,” Emil promised even as he wondered how he would. His problem was that he not only sold drugs to a number of people in the Carbon County area, but he personally used some of what he’d gotten from Devonte. Emil knew that it was stupid to be using the stuff he was supposed to be selling, but he was hooked, and his habit caused him to make stupid mistakes. He was a serious addict as well as a pusher. He was sober now but also scared. He had to find a way to make enough from his customers to pay for his own habit. The solution was simple: he would raise his prices to his customers to cover what he was using for himself. Yes, that’s what he’d do. He could see no other way.

Devonte gave him one last but very long threatening look as these thoughts raced through Emil’s mind. Then Devonte climbed into his silver Mercedes and pulled away. Emil got in his rusty Volkswagen Beetle and sat there shaking so badly he couldn’t get the key in the ignition. Sweat poured from his forehead and stung his eyes, blurring his vision. He’d messed up. He had to do something or Devonte would do more than threaten him.

As he sat there, the fear slowly turned to anger. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands and then pulled a small pistol from the jockey box, checked to make sure it was loaded, and stuffed it inside his belt. His hands were steadier now, and he shoved the key in the ignition and started the car. If Devonte could threaten, then he could threaten too. That’s exactly what he would do. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and this was a desperate time.

His first stop was at the rundown apartment in Price where Lucas Soto and his pregnant young girlfriend lived. Lucas sent his girlfriend, Nattie Shrader, to the bedroom while he talked to Emil.

“Where’s my heroin?” Lucas asked before Emil had a chance to remind him that he owed him money. “You told me you would get me some more, and I’ve been waiting for you to call so I could come pick it up. I’m almost out.”

“There isn’t any for you to pick up. You get no more until you pay up,” Emil said, puffing out his chest to look bigger and tougher than his short, skinny frame seemed to proclaim. “I need the dough right now, or you will suffer the consequences.”

Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening me?”

“Just stating a fact,” Emil said. “You pay up, and I might find some more for you. And bear in mind that I will need interest on what you owe me.” Interest. Emil didn’t know why he hadn’t thought about that before. Charging his customers interest would cover what he was using himself.

“My girlfriend is pregnant. She had to go to the doctor, and it took all our money. I’ll have a welfare check next week. I’ll pay you then,” Lucas said.

Emil glared at him for a moment. He’d never threatened one of his customers before, but he had no choice now. Devonte was a dangerous man, and Emil feared he would do what he’d threatened if Emil didn’t find a way to appease him very soon. Slowly, but with as much menace as he could muster, Emil pulled his little pistol out and pointed it at Lucas Soto’s chest. “I’ll be back in a couple hours. You find the money—borrow it, steal it, whatever it takes, but you have it when I come back later. And I’ll need a hundred dollars for interest on top of the rest.”

“What if I don’t?” Lucas asked with fear in his eyes.

“If you don’t, your girlfriend will have to raise your baby all by herself,” Emil said, trying to look as dangerous to Lucas as Devonte had to him.

For a moment, Lucas glared at him. Then, mustering some courage, he said, “You better not even think of it. I have a gun too, you know.”

“Don’t you threaten me! I’ll be back,” Emil said, waving the pistol at Lucas. “Don’t disappoint me.”

With that, Emil tromped angrily from the apartment, being careful not to slip on the ice on the sidewalk, and got in his car. He then drove his ancient VW Beetle to a house in Price where another of his errant customers lived. It was a rundown house badly in need of a paint job and a new front door. Weeds grew everywhere, even between the cracks in the sidewalk. The living room window had a large crack in it, which had been patched with gray duct tape.

Emil made sure his pistol was tucked out of sight when he headed up the cracked, icy sidewalk and pounded on the disintegrating door. A skinny woman with sallow skin and straggly hair opened the door, but she had to put her shoulder against it to keep it from falling inward as only the bottom hinge was still attached. Emil knew she was the wife of Bryan Bayle, a customer who owed him well over a thousand dollars. He was angry at himself for letting Bryan get in debt so steep, but he transferred the anger to Bryan as he stepped inside without being asked, knowing Mrs. Bayle couldn’t slam the broken door if she tried.

He asked for Bryan, fighting to keep his anger in check, and she turned without a word to search for him. She had to make her way between stacks of empty takeout cartons, dozens of beer cans and bottles, and other trash. Ashtrays were overflowing with cigarette butts. The place smelled like a sewer, maybe slightly worse. And it was cold. The sagging, busted door couldn’t help but let in cold air.

Bryan came in, his pants sagging, a large belly protruding from above the waistline. It looked like his wife must have rousted him from his bed because he swayed as if half asleep. Of course, Emil knew from experience that it could simply be a bad hangover.

“Got my weed?” Bryan asked. “You didn’t have to deliver it. I’d have come over if you’d called. I appreciate it, but I’ll have to owe you again. Ain’t got no cash right now.”

Bryan walked with a waddle. His hair must not have seen a good washing for a very long time, and his beard was filled with scraps of food. A disgusting mess.

“No marijuana today, man,” Emil said. “You know I don’t make deliveries.”

Before he could go on, Bryan said, “Then I guess I’ll have some meth since you’re here.”

“Bryan, you ain’t getting nothing today,” Emil said with gritted teeth. “I came to collect what you owe me plus about a hundred in interest.” Emil really liked that interest idea.

“I already said I ain’t got it,” Bryan said. “And you didn’t say nothing about interest before. I don’t know what’s got into you, but sit down if you can find a spot. Just shove those magazines off that chair. I got a couple joints left. We’ll have one together.”

Emil had not anticipated that, but even though he had a little in his car and a little more at home, he said, “Sure, we can do that, but this ain’t going away.”

So in what seemed like companionable silence, the two men smoked their joints. When they were done, Bryan said, “I need more now that we’ve smoked these two joints. Can you have some for me to pick up tomorrow?”

“Bryan, I have to pay my supplier today. You understand, I’m sure. I’m like any other businessman. I can’t buy more to sell to you until I pay my supplier off.” Again he thought about not only the pot but also the small amounts of meth, heroin, and cocaine he had in his car with still a little more at home. He didn’t want to sell any of it because he was going to need it for himself. If he could collect interest, he wouldn’t have to sell it. Bryan wasn’t getting anything else until he gave Emil some money, and that was simply the end of it.

“Your problem ain’t my problem,” Bryan said, raising his massive bulk from the sagging chair he’d been seated in.

Emil also stood. “Actually, it is your problem. You pay me. I pay my supplier. Then I can get more weed for you and maybe a little meth.”

“You’ll have to come back. I don’t get a check for another week. My woman and I gotta survive until then,” Bryan said. “It’s cold in here, and if we don’t pay the power bill soon, they’ll shut off my electricity, and we’ll freeze to death. So you see, I got problems too. But it was nice of you to come by.”

Emil pulled his gun out and waved it in the direction of his errant customer, whose eyes suddenly widened in fear. “You don’t understand. I gotta have money now. Today! You don’t want me to have to use this, do you?” he asked with a sneer. “Cause I will if I have to.”

“You just pulled a gun on me!” Bryan thundered, his round face red with fear and sudden rage. “Ain’t nobody pulls no gun on me and lives to tell about it.”

“I just did,” Emil said. “And while you think about that, also think about what you have that you could give me that I could pawn. Maybe something that will get you even on your bill along with a little interest.”

“I thought we were pals. We just smoked weed together. Now you go all crazy on me. Well, I got news for you, Emil: I ain’t got nothing you can have,” Bryan said. “So just get out of here before I take that gun away from you and shove it down your throat.”

Just then his skinny wife entered the filthy room. “What’s all the shouting about?” she demanded. Then her eyes grew wide. “A gun! You gonna shoot us?”

“No, Belle, he ain’t gonna shoot us. He’s just losing his mind. He thinks we gotta pay him right now, or he won’t give us more of what we need.”

Belle’s eyes narrowed. “You always get what we need. What’s the matter with you?”

“He says he can’t get no more until we pay him,” Bryan explained, all the while keeping his eyes on Emil’s pistol.

“That’s right. He needs money, so I need money. You need to pay me today,” Emil said.

“I explained that we ain’t got nothing to pay him with right now,” Bryan told his wife.

Emil waved the gun at Belle. “Get me your jewelry, all of it.”

“So you’re robbing us now?” Belle said, her skinny body trembling as she hugged a threadbare jacket around her.

“Get what you got and give it to me. I ain’t robbing nobody. I’m just collecting what you owe me,” Emil said. “So get moving, both of you.”

Nobody moved. But after a moment of throwing daggers from their eyes, Belle finally said, “I ain’t got much, but I’ll go get what we got. Then you gotta leave us alone.”

She started to move away, but Emil said, “Both of you go, and I’ll follow you. You try to pull a fast one, and somebody gets it.” He waved the gun to make his point.

“We’ll call the cops,” Belle said.

“No, we won’t,” Bryan countered. “We don’t need no cops coming around. Let’s get your jewelry. You never wear it anyway.”

“The jewelry probably ain’t enough,” Emil said. “I want anything else of value that you have.”

He followed them into a bedroom. At least it had a bed in it, but Emil could barely see it for all the junk. Belle opened a drawer to a dresser once she’d plowed her way through the mess to get to it. Emil watched both of them while she dug around in the drawer. She quickly pulled out a dented metal jewelry box.

“Open it,” Emil ordered.

She did, and it did in fact contain some necklaces, rings, bracelets, and earrings. He took it all and shoved it in his pockets without once letting the gun stray from pointing at one of them. “Okay, now let’s see what else you have,” Emil said. “I bet you got guns somewhere in this mess.”

“I ain’t got none,” Bryan said. “If I did, I would use it on you.”

“I don’t believe you. Everybody’s got guns. Where do you keep them?” Emil asked. He was shaking now in a mixture of fear and anger. He wasn’t used to having to threaten people, but he also feared threats directed at him. He hadn’t considered Bryan as a dangerous man, but the look in his eye made him think that perhaps he was.

Bryan looked at his wife. She was shaking with fear.

“Take the jewelry,” he said. “If that ain’t enough, then we’ll talk some more.”

“Talking’s done,” Emil said as he waved the pistol at them. “Show me some guns.”

“I ought to kill you right now,” Bryan said.

“I got the gun. Show me where yours are or I’ll have to use it. And when you show me, you ain’t to touch them,” Emil said.

Without another word, but glaring threateningly, the pair led him to another room, one just as messy. In it was a gun case with the glass broken out of the door. There were two rifles that Emil could see, but he wondered if there might be a pistol or two in the drawer below the rifles. “I knew you had guns. I’ll take them. And if I can’t get enough out of them and the jewelry, I’ll be back, so be thinking what else you have or go borrow some money. I need the entire thousand plus a hundred for interest today. I’ll be back after I hawk these things. I need to pay my man tonight.”

Bryan pushed toward the gun cabinet.

“No you don’t, Bryan,” Emil said. “You two stay over there.” He pointed past a twin bed piled high with junk. “I told you that you wouldn’t touch the guns. I’ll get them.”

He took the rifles out one at a time and checked them. They were both unloaded. Then he opened the drawer and found two pistols. One was a revolver, a .357 magnum. The other was a 9mm semiautomatic. Both were loaded. He shoved them inside the waistband of his pants using only one hand so he could continue to threaten with the pistol in the other.

He hoped these were all the guns Bryan had, but he had no way of knowing for sure. He didn’t want to leave Bryan with a way to carry out his threat if he decided to. “Where are your other guns? I know you got more.”

A look passed between Bryan and Belle. She looked very scared, and Emil was sure the look Bryan gave her was a warning to keep her mouth shut. He could see fading bruises on her face and suddenly realized she was afraid of her husband. “I want the rest of your guns,” he repeated.

Belle responded then, after another threatening look from Bryan. “He doesn’t have any more,” she said in a shaky voice.

He didn’t believe her, but he wasn’t going to search the whole house. “Belle, you get the rifles,” Emil said. “You’re going to carry them to my car and put them in the back seat. You stay close to her, Bryan. Any funny moves, and I’ll plug both of you.”

Emil then forced them to go out ahead of him. He kept his pistol out of sight once they stepped onto the sidewalk in case there were snoopy neighbors. They all walked slowly because of the dangerous patches of ice on the ground. Once the guns were in his car, Emil said, “I’ll be back this afternoon if I need more than this. I’ll give you credit toward your debt from exactly what these pawn for.”

“Hey, you owe me for a joint,” Bryan suddenly said. “You smoked one of mine.”

“You gave that to me, but sure, I’ll take it off what you owe me,” Emil said magnanimously. “But from now on, you pay me up front for what you want from me, so I won’t have to collect interest.” What he didn’t say was that he would charge more to make up for the interest because he wasn’t going to go without the stuff he needed for himself.

Bryan gave him a look that could kill. “You just made a dangerous enemy, Emil. Don’t come back trying to sell me more. What you took from us just now is worth more than we owe you, even with interest. And I won’t be going to your house no more either. We’ll get our stuff from someone who ain’t crazy.”

Emil sent them back inside, and then he got in his car and drove off. He stopped a few blocks later, shaking like a leaf. He’d never had to resort to threats before, and he didn’t like it. Despite that, he thought about going back to Lucas’s place to force him and his nice-looking young girlfriend to give him something he could pawn. It was the only way he could think of to get the money together to pay Devonte.

Suddenly a worrisome thought hit him. Bryan probably had guns in his car. He should have looked because he’d just made an enemy out of the guy. He cursed his bad luck.

He decided to drive back into Price and shake Lucas down for guns and jewelry. Within a few minutes, he was parked in front of Lucas’s house. Now or never.

“Hey, man, what’re you doing back here? We ain’t had time to get no money for you,” Lucas said when he came to the door.

“I came to see what you have that I could pawn to get enough money to cover what you owe me,” Emil said reasonably.

“You can’t have anything of ours,” Lucas said adamantly.

“Come on, man, you’ve been a good customer. I need to get to the pawn shops this morning, so I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Like I said, you’re getting nothing of ours.”

“Don’t make me do this the hard way,” Emil said.

“What do you mean by that? Are you gonna pull out your gun again and then just start grabbing our stuff?” Lucas asked.

“Let’s look around and see what you got, Lucas. How about jewelry? Surely the pretty little lady has some she can part with.”

Just then, Lucas’s girlfriend came into the room. She balked at giving Emil any jewelry. “Lucas uses the heroin, not me. You can’t have anything of mine.”

“Nattie, shut up,” Lucas said angrily. Then he turned to Emil. “What she has ain’t worth nothing. We ain’t rich. You know that.”

“Give me what you have. Anything I can’t pawn I’ll bring back,” Emil said, trying to sound like he was being reasonable.

“No way,” Lucas responded.

“Then I guess it’s the hard way.” Emil pulled out his pistol.

“Give him what he wants, Lucas, please. But don’t ever tell anybody you got that awful stuff for me. You know I won’t use it and hurt our baby,” Nattie said.

Lucas finally caved in, and for the next few minutes, they gathered things up and handed them all over to Emil. He finally drove away with some jewelry, a rifle, a shotgun, a small TV, and a box of porcelain dolls. Behind him, he left a raging couple. Lucas was angry with him and had threatened to get even. Nattie was angry with Lucas for getting them in such a bad position that she had to give up things she liked, like her porcelain dolls and her grandmother’s wedding ring.

Emil may have just lost another customer, but he had lots more, and most of them paid him in cash when they came to his house for the stuff they wanted.

At the first pawn shop he went to, he was turned away. The owner suspected what he had was stolen and wouldn’t take anything from him. The same thing happened at the next place. Discouraged, Emil finally went home, brought everything into the house, and put it in two piles. He put a piece of paper beside each pile—one with the name Bryan and the other with Lucas. Somehow he needed to convince Devonte that he needed another day so he could run to Salt Lake where he was sure he could pawn the items he’d taken. The jewelry wasn’t worth much, but the guns were.

Then he had another idea; he could give the stuff to Devonte to pay his bill. That should work just fine. Then it would be Devonte’s problem to pawn it.

He still had one more person to talk to who owed him money. Unlike the others, he wasn’t sure how to handle Joe Whalen. He’d asked Joe to pay him a couple days ago, but Joe had insisted that he didn’t have any money, but he would pay as soon as he could. Joe was different from a lot of Emil’s customers in that he actually had a job and came from a slightly more affluent background. And he was not a heavy user.

Joe’s cousin was a deputy sheriff with a big bulldog, one who was getting a reputation fast. If Emil pulled his gun on Joe, Joe might get his cousin and his dog after him. That was something Emil couldn’t let happen. But he had to get something from Joe. He’d take whatever Joe had of value, like he had done with Lucas and Bryan, but this time, he’d try to do it without having to pull his pistol.