The Darkness - Jason Pinter [102]
It was an odd gesture, but for some reason Morgan felt
strangely comforted.
"Hey, uh, can I get the second part of the payment
now? Just don't want to forget."
"The money, of course. I knew you wouldn't forget."
Then Morgan felt something sharp pierce his neck, and
then a terrible burning sensation began to creep its way
into his bloodstream.
He jerked backward, and Chester moved away. "What
the hell was that?" he cried.
Then he saw the syringe in Chester's hand, and Morgan knew exactly what the man had done.
"Sleep," Chester said.
Morgan tried to reach for the man, but suddenly his
entire body felt weak. His arms hung limply at his sides,
as Morgan felt his body begin to slump down in the seat.
"Why..." he said. "I...I would have done anything
for you..."
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Jason Pinter
"I know that," Chester said. Morgan caught the slightest hint of remorse in the man's face. "And you gave as
much as you possibly could have."
"My mom..." Morgan groaned, barely able to make
out the words.
"She'll never see you again."
"I..."
"We're here," another voice said from the front seat.
It was the driver. Morgan hadn't had time to see him
when he jumped into the car.
The driver turned around briefly to talk to Chester.
That's when Morgan saw who was driving the car.
Theodore Goggins.
"Sorry, man," Theo said. "No hard feelings."
"Tell them to chop the car and burn the body," Chester
said. Then he looked back at Morgan. Morgan's eyelids
were falling. He could feel his heart slowing down,
draining him. It was all he could do to retain a small
sliver of light to see the man who'd killed him.
"Good night, Morgan. I hope wherever you're going
you find all the money you can possibly dream of."
And then Morgan Isaacs died.
41
I told the cops everything I knew, which wasn't much,
even though it was apparently too much. I didn't recognize the shooter, didn't know where he'd come from, who
hired him, or why he wanted William Hollinsworth dead.
Well, that wasn't entirely true.
There was no doubt in my mind that Hollinsworth
was killed because somebody was frightened of what he
was going to tell me. And for good reason. Hollinsworth
had confirmed several things before his death, and every
one of them scared me to death.
I sat in a coffee shop with Jack, the two of us frazzled
beyond belief. I'd called Amanda and told her what happened. Her voice told me that she was deathly afraid for
me, but I couldn't come home just yet. We were so close;
after all this time so many of the pieces were coming
together.
What still itched at me was the police response to
Hollinsworth's murder. I'd been around death before, had
seen it up close. I'd seen death as personal as it got. And
regardless of who was killed, whether it be the most respected cop or the lowliest drug dealer, there was always
a police response.
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Jason Pinter
But when Hollinsworth was killed, the response was a
simple blue-and-white patrol car and a small forensics team.
It was more like a motel cleaning crew than a homicide
investigation.
I'd asked the officer in charge, a round, pleasant man
in his early forties named Hanrahan, if they were expecting more on the scene. He laughed, but not in a condescending way, a way that told me I shouldn't expect more.
"The department is stretched thin as a dollar bill," said
Hanrahan. "If we're the only ones here it's because there's
nobody else who responded."
It felt like a cloud had descended over this city, something far more menacing than Jack or I knew. I thought
about my brother, the now prophetic words he'd spoken
just hours before he was gunned down in a dingy apartment building, alone and unloved.
This city's gonna burn.
If this city was going to burn, I could already smell the
smoke.
Jack sipped a cup of coffee. Black, he grimaced as he
drank it. I had a soda in front of me. Caffeine would have
been a mistake. I didn't need it. The way I felt right now I
wasn't sure my blood pressure would ever return to normal.
"Somebody knew we were going to speak to Hollinsworth,"