The Garden of Betrayal - Lee Vance [111]
“Plate?”
“Obscured. Writing on the side reads west end storage. Also a slogan and some kind of phone number that I can’t make out.”
I got up unsteadily and joined Joe at the window, ebbing adrenaline leaving me shivery and nauseated. His description hadn’t done justice to the scene below. Smith’s men had literally been ripped to pieces. A blood-soaked leg had come to rest almost immediately beneath us, a brown construction boot still neatly laced to the foot. I gagged and turned away as a woman began screaming in one of the downstairs rooms.
“Our lucky day,” Reggie said, his voice clipped. He sounded amazingly composed, and I wondered how he did it. He tipped his gun toward Smith. “Who shot up your pals?”
“Go fuck yourself,” Smith said, sounding a lot less confident.
“Watch him,” Reggie said to Joe, stepping over Smith’s legs and heading for the bathroom. He pushed open the door and swore. “Mohler’s gone.” He went inside, reappearing a moment later. “Skinny bastard must have wormed his way through the window and jumped. There’s a Dumpster right below. Probably half a mile away by now.”
“So, what do you want to do?” Joe asked.
“Secure the area and call in the cavalry,” Reggie replied, stooping to cuff one of Smith’s wrists to the bed frame. “All we can do. We fucked up, and now we got to deal with the consequences. We straight on our story?”
Joe nodded and I followed suit, trying not to betray how unsteady I felt. We’d rehearsed a version of events that minimized the illegalities on our part, anticipating the likelihood that capturing Mohler and whoever might be following him would end the cowboy phase of our investigation. I was sorry we’d lost Mohler but glad to be alive, and particularly glad to still have Smith. There were some things I wanted to talk to him about.
“Okay, then,” Reggie said as he straightened up. “Joe, you cover me. I’m going to head below and take charge of the scene.” He glanced at the Ruger still dangling from my hand. “Thanks for sticking it out with us, Mark. You got to lose that gun when the reinforcements arrive, but for right now, why don’t you keep an eye on Smith?”
“No problem.”
“Be careful,” he added in a lower voice, brushing past me on his way toward the door. “Keep your distance. I want your finger off the trigger and the safety on. We don’t need any more accidents. We have enough explaining to do already.”
He patted me on the shoulder and vanished outside. Joe stood guard in the open doorway, his back to the hinged side of the frame, eyes sweeping from Smith to the parking lot below and back. The woman downstairs was still screaming.
“I’m okay here,” I said to Joe. “You keep watch on Reggie’s back.”
He nodded hesitantly and moved to the gallery railing. I squatted down in front of Smith, the gun in my hand concealed from Joe by my body. My finger was on the trigger, and the safety was off.
“See my wife and daughter again, you said,” I hissed to Smith. “When have you seen them before?”
Smith wiped blood from his face with the back of his hand, his cold, gray eyes fixing on me.
“Tough guy,” he snarled. “Who would’ve guessed?”
“Because I didn’t run out on my friends?”
“Because you already lost one kid. And now you’re risking the other.”
I tilted the gun by my hip, pointing it at his face.
“You know something about what happened to my son?”
“I know what’s going to happen to you and the rest of your family.”
The urge to pull the trigger was overwhelming. But Smith dead wouldn’t be able to tell me who was responsible for murdering Kyle or provide me with the information I needed to protect my family. I forced my hand to relax, flipped on the gun’s safety, and jabbed Smith in the mouth with the butt.
“Consider yourself lucky that I need you alive.”
He shook his head like a boxer tagged by a punch and then spit blood and a broken tooth onto the floor.
“Difference between us,” he said, giving me the same vermilion-hued smile he’d given Reggie. “I don’t need you for anything.”
A