The Stolen - Jason Pinter [107]
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Jason Pinter
Powers's secretary had told me Reggie would be at the
site all day. But there were no other cars on the lot. No discarded papers or bags. No sign that any human beings had
even set foot here today. Why would Reggie be here all
day if nobody else was?
A terrible suspicion grew that I was alone here. Or even
worse, not as alone as I thought.
"Hello?" I called out. My voice echoed through the
structure. A chill ran through my body, and I held the
backpack tighter. "Mr. Powers?"
Still nothing.
I exited the structure, walked around the exterior.
Several cranes were standing tall over the skeleton,
long steel beams lying at their feet. The cement trucks
were quiet, side elevators dark.
"Reggie Powers!" I called again. When again there was
no answer, I decided it'd be best to get the hell out of there.
I began to jog back toward the car, winding my way
around the side of the building. As I passed a blue van, I saw
something that made me stop in my tracks. My breath caught.
Beside the van I could make out a human hand splayed
out on the ground. As I crept closer, I could see the fingertips coated with blood. The hand belonged to a black
man.
The body was on the ground in an awkward position.
The right hand was splayed out above the man's head, the
left arm at a ninety-degree angle. The legs were crumpled,
one stuck beneath the man's torso. A single hole was in
the center of his head, and a pool of blood had begun to
dry.
I didn't need to check the wallet to know that Reggie
Powers had been murdered.
I whipped around, looking for something, anything.
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He'd clearly been dead a little while, so whoever had done
it had either fled the scene, or was waiting for me.
I took the cell phone from my pocket. Dialed 911. I
felt panicked as I waited to be connected, every second
not knowing what the hell was happening. Was Powers
already dead when I called his office? Or had he come
here with the intent to meet with me, then was murdered
by someone who knew...
Then I knew it. Powers meant to set me up. He knew
nobody would be at the construction site. He must have
told somebody before he arrived. And that somebody took
him out. Somebody who'd begun to think Powers was
better off dead. Somebody who felt he'd become a liability.
And when I heard the click of a gun safety being
removed, I knew immediately that Raymond Benjamin
had killed him.
"Step away from the van, Parker."
I put the cell phone in my coat pocket. Every muscle
in my body was numb.
I recognized the voice. I'd heard it that night at the house
on Huntley, as this man tried to torture information out of me.
I slowly turned around. Hands above my head.
Raymond Benjamin was standing ten feet away from
me. He held a gun in one outstretched hand. The scar on
his cheek seemed to glisten in the darkening sky. His face
was a mask of anger and frustration.
"I didn't want it to come to this," he said. "Killing is an
ugly, ugly thing. If you'd just let it be, Parker, this wouldn't
be happening."
"Petrovsky. Powers. You killed them both, and for
what? To hide your dirty secret? I know what all this is,"
I said. "All this by your hand."
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Jason Pinter
Benjamin took a step closer. "Parker," he said. "I'm
sorry you won't have a chance to know any better."
The sky exploded, a yellow blast echoing in the night,
and I shut my eyes and waited to die. When after a moment
I felt no pain, felt nothing at all except the wind on my
face, I opened them. Raymond Benjamin was dead on the
ground. Smoke wafted from a bullet hole in his back, right
where his heart had beat its last breath. And standing there,
smoking gun in his hand, was Senator Gray Talbot.
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"It was you all along," I said, staring into the senator's cold
eyes. "You were behind the kidnappings. Hobbs County and
Meriden were your pet projects so you could look good
come voting season. That way you could come off looking
like some great savior, when in reality you were feeding
people the same poison you claimed to be eradicating.