Part 25 (2/2)
”But your brother . . .” He let the somber phrase hang there. ”Adam and he were such good friends because of the wrestling team. I'd see him around the house often. I could tell then something wasn't right in his head. I didn't learn about Chris' exact troubles until much later.” He gazed over the Turnpike, the seedy thoroughfare that disrupted the illusion of quaint mountain living. ”Maybe it's not fair to blame this town. Families choose to stay for a reason. I guess I can appreciate the appeal. Country boys, mountain ridges and all of that. Maybe I just hate John Denver.”
Five minutes in the back of his car, I had yet to speak. What could I contribute to the conversation anyway? The scenario had already played itself out. I'd lost. Again.
”How do you know her?” I asked.
”Today was the first time we spoke.”
”What did Nicki give you?”
”Something I wanted.”
”You don't want to tell me what?”
”Why would I? No offense.”
”I guess you were able to offer her the right price.”
”Any price is better than no price.”
”Bowman said-”
”I don't care what Erik-the man you call Bowman-said, but I can tell you this about Erik. He's an angry, spiteful man of limited intelligence. When Adam sold the company to help with my campaign, Erik was left out in the cold. My brother went out of his way-against my counsel-to land Erik a job with Toma.s.si. That wasn't good enough for Erik, who felt I'd forced him out. Which I suppose I had. But you know politics. I couldn't justify ex-gang members on the payroll. I wouldn't put much stock in the words of a convicted felon.”
The car split off the Turnpike, spiriting along the frontage access of Orchard Road, pressing farther into the forest, swallowed by the dense thicket of rocky evergreen.
”Where are we going?”
No one answered. They didn't need to. I knew where we were headed.
The mountain loomed large on the horizon. The driver hooked a left, angling up meandering dirt roads toward Lamentation Bridge and the treacherous Ragged Pa.s.s.
Michael caught my eye. ”You know this is business, right? It isn't personal.”
I wondered if the men up front were the same two cops who'd beat me senseless last week in Longmont. I decided they were not. Even though I hadn't gotten a good look at any faces, these men carried themselves as a different kind of security. Whatever waited for me up on Lamentation would not be good, regardless of who sat in the driver's seat.
The car motored along the rocky terrain, expensive shocks absorbing unpaved roads as we closed in on the southern rim of the mountain and thin ice of Echo Lake.
”We stopped by your motel room,” Michael said. ”Didn't find much. Looked like a transient had been staying there.”
”Didn't you get what you needed from Nicki?”
”Let's say I like to be thorough.”
I could feel the air turn thin and cold with the alt.i.tude, clouds sinking, skies darkening, heavy curtains drawing on the closing act. For a long time no one spoke, no one made a sound, the only noise the elegant purr of a finely tuned engine hardly inconvenienced by a hostile environment. Higher and higher we rose, until soon we sat parked on the water's edge, slick sheen glistening off the surface.
The two men in front did not exit the car. This was bad. No secrets needed guarding. Nothing I said would be admissible. Because I wouldn't be around later to corroborate. There would be no witnesses left behind.
”So those photocopies, Jay?”
”I gave everything I had to the press.”
”Really? You're going with that one?”
”It's the truth.” If this was game over, I had nothing to lose. Or hide. ”Spoke to Jim Case this morning. Reporter for the Monitor? Went to his house in Pittsfield. Talked over coffee. He has it all. Selling kids to North River. Paying off Judge Roberts. The HUD projects your office pushed through. s.h.i.+pping kids out of state. Inflating numbers. UpStart's stake in erecting a new private prison. Everything. You and your brother are done.”
Michael smirked. But it wasn't mean or filled with hate. I couldn't place the emotion behind it until he shook his head, as if in admiration. ”I told Adam he was wrong about you.”
I wasn't sure which of the two had been defending my honor.
Michael stared out the window. I followed his gaze over the thin ice. This time of year, no one had to cut a hole. You walk far enough out on the ice and the ice would break, swallow you up, swirling black waters bringing you home.
”Your folks had their accident around here, didn't they? And wasn't this where you ran your brother and his drug dealer off the road?”
”Don't you think it'll look a little funny? I speak with a reporter at the Monitor, then go missing later that morning?”
”I have no idea what you're talking about, Jay. I'm on good terms with everyone on the Monitor staff. Including Jim Case. Nice guy. Solid reporter. You want to go around repeating the hearsay of a disgruntled former employee with confirmed gangland ties and a long criminal record? No one is taking that seriously.” He stared back out the window, casually carrying on pleasant conversation. ”After what you went through last winter, would anyone really be surprised if, in your distraught state, you wandered up to this particular spot to grieve? I'm sure your doctor will confirm the pills, how much you'd been drinking, your wife leaving you, the final straw. Wandered too far from the safety of the sh.o.r.e. Misgauged the danger. Happens all the time.”
A car pulled behind us. Michael craned over his shoulder. I knew the news was only getting worse.
Doors opened. Arms reached in. I was pulled out. Michael Lombardi didn't bother with goodbye. Like a slab of meat pa.s.sed off at the butcher's. I wouldn't be around to vote in November.
The men who walked toward me now did not wear uniforms, dressed in regular civilian clothes, expressionless. Though I hadn't gotten a good look that night in Longmont, hadn't logged a single distinguis.h.i.+ng characteristic, I knew those cops had returned to finish the job. I remembered Chris telling me about waiting for ”the Man.” How he'd keep looking, checking every pair of headlights, measuring the weight of footsteps. Pointless. When the Man comes around, you know.
Transaction completed, Michael's security detail slipped back in the car, and the black, state-issued vehicle U-turned, exiting the way it'd come. Like they'd never been there at all.
”You're all kinds of stupid, ain't you, boy?” one of Longmont cops said.
”You don't have to do this,” I said. ”You can drive away, forget you ever saw me. I won't say a word.”
”No. You won't.”
”You guys are cops. You can't just kill a man in cold blood.”
”Yeah. We can. Don't you watch the news? And besides, we aren't cops anymore. Not after today. This settles a debt. Then me and Bernstein here take a long trip out of state.”
”Seems to be a reoccurring theme,” I muttered.
The other one, Bernstein I guessed, told his partner to shut the f.u.c.k up. Or maybe that was meant for me. Not like anyone was bothering with introductions.
”He doesn't need to know our travel plans.”
”Who's he gonna tell?”
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