The Darkness - Jason Pinter [16]
My heart sank when I heard Amanda's voice on both
of them. In the first she seemed relaxed. The time stamp
meant she'd likely sent it just after getting home from
work. The second was sent less than half an hour later,
but she sounded worried, hesitant. I had no idea what
could have happened in that short time frame, but the
moment I erased the messages I was calling her back.
She picked up before the first ring was finished.
"Henry?" her sweet voice said.
"Hey, baby, it's me."
"Are you home?"
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"Sure am. Pretty exhausted, but it's been a hell of a
day. I'll fill you in tomorrow."
"Are you home for good?"
"You mean tonight?"
"Yeah."
"Yes...just getting ready for bed."
"Do me a favor. Make sure your door is locked."
"Is everything okay?" I didn't know where all of this
was coming from. "Do you want me to come over?"
"No. Just promise me you'll stay safe."
"I promise," I said.
"Good. Thanks, Henry. Now get a good night's sleep.
I'll talk to you tomorrow."
She hung up, but something gnawed at my gut. Like
Amanda knew something I didn't.
6
Tuesday
I was on the corner of Fifty-seventh and Sixth. It was
seven-thirty in the morning. Jack had told me to meet him
at eight-thirty. So unless he showed up an hour early just
to prove a point, I'd be the first one there. Of course you
could make the argument that I showed up an hour early
just to make my own point, but that was semantics. I
wanted and needed Jack to respect my work ethic. If my
professional accomplishments hadn't yet convinced him,
he'd just have to witness it firsthand.
I was still a little on edge from my conversation with
Amanda. We'd spoken briefly this morning before she left
for work, and something was definitely wrong. Again
she'd told me to promise that I'd stay safe. She'd never
done anything like that, at least not without cause or some
psycho killer breathing down our backs. I'd see her tonight.
We'd talk, and hopefully everything would be all right.
They needed to be. I needed that much stability in my life
right now, and I needed her to know that I was reliable.
At eight-fifteen the familiar tweed jacket rounded the
corner. Jack was clutching a large coffee and munching on
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a bagel. Cream cheese was stuck in his beard. He nodded
as he drew close, said, "Henry. Way to be on time."
"I could say the same thing to you. Hey, got a little
cream cheese there." I motioned to his beard. He ran his
hand through it, but all that did was spread it around. I
laughed, which Jack didn't take kindly to. He took a napkin and wiped himself down thoroughly, finally getting
it out.
"Better, Dad?" Jack said.
"Better, sport."
"Good. Now that the silliness is over, let's go talk to
some of these 718 guys."
"I don't know all of them," I said, "but the ones I did
meet got pretty vicious. Two of them, Scott Callahan and
Kyle Evans, are dead. Two others I didn't know, Guardado
and Tsang, are dead, too."
"They must have a hell of a life insurance policy,"
Jack said.
"I don't get it," I said. "Stephen Gaines worked for
these people. He ends up dead. Tsang has his bones
ground to powder, and there are still people dealing for
these clowns. I mean, if your colleagues are dropping like
flies, why do you stay on? Why not go to the cops, spill
on whoever's paying you? Seems like you have a better
chance of staying alive at least."
"That's a good question, Henry, and it's one that we're
going to have to answer because obviously these people
disagree with your assessment."
"Survival," I said.
"Come again?" replied Jack.
"Human instinct. The number-one priority is survival. If
someone isn't opening up, it's because they want to survive.
Ken Tsang, that wasn't just a murder. It was a message."
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51
"I think I've seen that kind of message before."
"Yeah? Where?"
"Wrote a story once where I had to interview the foreman after an accident at a quarry. The foreman told me the
victim's body looked like the bad guy after Indiana Jones
smushed him in that rock crusher.