Chapter Twenty-One
Wednesday, six p.m.
They sat in the hospital waiting room, a wait measured by never-ceasing clicks of the old-fashioned clock on the wall. Long enough for Darcy to have finished her segment. She walked in still wearing her work clothes, a snazzy skirt and blouse ensemble that might have been silk and surely was expensive.
Brack barely noticed that she ignored his presence and went directly to Mutt, giving him a hug. He needed her comfort more than Brack craved her attention. They spoke softly, then she came over and sat next to Brack.
He said, “It was good of you to come.”
“I know what these places are like.”
And she did, having spent time in one after her own gunshot wound. Also his fault. He said, “Townsend, one of the names on your list, was at the restaurant before this happened. At least his SUV was. What do we know about him?”
“He runs Trinity Security and has one client. Guess who that is.”
“Vito.”
She nodded and pulled up a photo on her phone. “And apparently Townsend’s a hands-on type.”
“This is the big guy who attempted to intimidate Tara and me at the charity event.” The blond-haired blue-eyed monster was unmistakable. “Who are the bikers he’s with?”
“Local toughs. Vito’s street thugs.”
Shifting in his molded plastic seat, Brack said, “Any word as to which of them did this?”
“No, but I’d put money on the wannabe road hogs.”
It made sense that they would be in on it. If Townsend had any kind of sense as a businessman, he’d do his best to keep his hands clean. He’d probably been scouting out the restaurant when Brack chased him earlier. What didn’t make sense was why Cassie was the target. To Brack, it should be himself or Mutt. He said, “Any thoughts as to what’s next?”
Her response was to stare at him.
“What?”
“Well,” she replied, “ordinarily you’d be running out the door, armed and dangerous and ready to destroy everything in your path. Which is exactly what you’d end up doing. Right or wrong.”
“True. I want to get them. All of them. But I think we need to be smart about it.”
“We?”
“You can walk away any time you want,” he said. “I’m going all the way with this one.”
After a moment, Darcy nodded. “I figured you’d say that.”
Brack stood and leaned against the wall—which Mutt had been doing every few minutes—and put his hands in his pockets. He asked Darcy, “So, you in or out?”
“What do you think?”
“I’m not sure. You might want to run this by your better half.”
She watched him as if to see whether he was serious or joking. He wasn’t joking. She got up to leave. “You’re right. I’ll let you know.”
Realizing his stupid emotions had gotten in the way, he said to her retreating back, “In the meantime, I’ll sit on Townsend.”
As she exited the room, he heard her say, “You do that, sport.”
Brack walked out to his car alone. Mutt had chosen to stay by Cassie’s side. Darcy was gone. And probably irritated by his jealous comment. The tall buildings of the Atlanta skyline stood over him like impersonal giants observing a mouse in a maze.
Leaning against the Mazda, he pulled out a cigar and his Uncle Reggie’s Zippo. He stared at both for a moment, but decided not to indulge. Within a few minutes his jumbled thoughts dissipated. If he was honest with himself at this moment, he’d say he didn’t want to be alone.
A bizarre notion came to mind. He needed to be like the deaf, dumb, and blind kid in The Who’s “Pinball Wizard:” no distractions. And at this moment, solitude—him with himself for company—was distracting.
To free up his hands, he put the cigar and lighter back in his pocket, got out his iPhone, and unlocked the screen. Scrolling through recent calls, he found the one he wanted and tapped it.
After a moment, Tara answered.
“This is Brack.”
“I heard about Cassie and Nina.”
“I just left Mutt at the hospital. I’m still in the parking lot.”
“How’s Cassie?”
“I think she’ll pull through, but she’s in a bad spot right now.”
“That’s terrible.”
“I’m going after the ones who did this. Remember the big blond guy from the ball? He’s tonight’s target.”
No response.
He continued. “Care to join me in a little surveillance?” He pushed the thought of involving another innocent in this mess out of his mind because at this moment he was being a selfish jackass.
More silence.
He added, “It’ll be dangerous...maybe even life-threatening.”
She said, “I’m in.”
“You sure?”
Letting out a long breath, she said, “Yes. I’m doing this for Cassie and Nina.”
“Good reason,” Brack said. “I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.”
As usual, he was on the opposite side of town from where he wanted to go. Thirty minutes turned into forty-five, thanks to the late rush-hour traffic. Tara was ready when he finally arrived. She opened the door on his first knock, a medium-sized purse hanging from her shoulder. She turned off the light.
They walked down the one flight of stairs to his car.
“How’s Mr. Grumpy?” he asked.
“Fine. I think he liked meeting you. The next day he looked around as if to see if I’d brought anyone with me for him to play with.”
“I really like my dog and everything about him, but Grumpy is, like, on a whole other level. His personality is magnified by his size.”
“He’s my baby.”
“If anything that weighs five tons could be considered a baby.”
Brack held the door of the Mazda open for her and she got in. He noticed she wore flat shoes, Capris, and a tank top to battle the night heat.
When he slid into the driver’s seat, she asked, “So what do we know?”
He told her about the list of addresses Darcy had given him. As he narrated the link to Vito and the Expedition he’d tried to follow earlier, he realized how easily he’d been allowed to tail that SUV. Those gangsters had intentionally waited for him to arrive at Cassie’s to then lure him away from the restaurant.
But why wouldn’t they simply get rid of him after they’d warned him with the Porsche? Now they knew what his latest ride looked like.
As he started the car, Tara said, “I’ve never done this before.”
“Mostly, it’s slow, tedious waiting,” he said, locating Townsend’s address already entered in the navigation system. “Hope you don’t mind peeing in the bushes.”
She laughed. “I’ve done worse.”
Cutting his eyes to hers, he asked, “What’s worse than peeing in the bushes?”
“A whole bunch of things.”
The banter helped him think about something other than Darcy marrying her fiancé, his battered friend in the hospital, and, most tragically, Nina’s family mourning the loss of a wife and mother.
The GPS let them know with a beep it had homed in on their destination and was ready to show them where to go.
He said, “You can share only the PG version with me if you want. It could be a long night.”
“Some things are meant to be remembered, not shared.”
Having his own file of memories he never disclosed, he understood the concept. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry.”
She said, “I’ll share a few if you will.”