Part 9 (1/2)
”Just thought I'd call,” Mr. Grin said. ”To keep you updated. It's been a long time since I've f.u.c.ked Gina, Jack. Thought you might want to hear it.”
Jack wanted to say all kinds of things but managed to fight the urge and say nothing.
He heard the sound of Mr. Grin's phone s.h.i.+ft and figured he must have been put on speakerphone.
He heard Gina wince... and speak.
”Jack. I love you. Oh, G.o.d, Jack, please find me. Please.”
”Where are you?” Jack said casually into the phone. Of course, he knew Mr. Grin would probably kill her if she told him where they were.
”I can't tell you. Just... please.”
Then he heard her breath coming in short bursts, skin slapping skin, Mr. Grin grunting from somewhere far away. Everything built to its strange rhythm, Gina's breaths so sharp it sounded like the phone was right next to her mouth. Mr. Grin grunted loudly and then the phone call ended. Jack looked at the phone as though it had somehow forsaken him.
He pressed b.u.t.tons until he found an options menu. He scrolled down to the ”Voice Memo” selection. He highlighted that one and clicked on it. The conversation was there in its entirety. He would let Sam listen to it if the a.s.s didn't end up in jail. Maybe it would strike some sort of chord with him.
He was so full of fury and rage his thoughts turned back to the cop and he was almost ready to attack him, certain he would be able to tell him who Mr. Grin was but he was already backing down the driveway. Timed perfectly. Everything seemed like it was timed so f.u.c.king perfectly.
Sam stood at the door to his apartment.
”He left in a f.u.c.king hurry,” Sam said.
”Yeah.”
”He was supposed to come back and breathalyze me.”
”Breathalyze you?”
”Yeah, I guess that's what you get for telling cops you drink a lot. You know how I told him I was taking you to work? He wanted to make sure I was able to do it 'unimpeded' was how he put it.”
”Then he just drove off.”
”Well, he did ask about the blood in the bathroom. I told him I didn't know exactly but I thought it came from my nose or maybe my girlfriend was menstruating. Good thing he didn't see that hunk of skin you tore off me. Would have probably thought we were cannibals too.”
”Do your neighbors complain a lot?”
”Huh?”
”Well, I mean, if someone complained it would have had to be the people above you, right?”
”Never really thought of that. I guess so. They're never here during the day, though.”
”It is Sunday though.”
”No. They go away most weekends. We could go up there but I doubt they're there right now.”
”I don't think the cop was really investigating much of anything.”
”No?”
”No. I think he was sent as a warning.”
”We should have f.u.c.king taken him out.”
”That's kind of what I had planned but now he's gone.”
”I guess we should be gone too, huh?”
”The sooner the better.”
It was 4:36.
Eighteen.
Sam fired up the car and the sound of the Misfits blasted from the aged and badly worn speakers. He made no attempt to turn it down. He backed out haphazardly into the road, seemingly unaware that any cars may be speeding toward him, and gunned the accelerator until they were out on the state route and headed toward the highway.
He ran red lights and stop signs, acting not at all like a person who has just had a run-in with the police.
Once they reached a straightaway, Jack turned down the volume on the stereo and pulled out his cell phone. He found the latest call and said, ”I want you to listen to this and tell me if you recognize the guy's voice. It's a little disturbing. I just want to warn you.”
”Give it here,” he said.
Jack watched for his reaction as he held it up to his right ear, a cigarette burning in his left hand. Miraculously, he managed to keep control of the speeding car.
After a few seconds, a look of distaste crossed Sam's face and Jack almost thought he was going to throw the phone out the window. Instead, he angrily flipped it closed and tossed it over onto Jack's lap.
”I tell you... When we find that guy I'm gonna cut his b.a.l.l.s off and chew on em a little bit.”
”Did he sound at all familiar?”
”s.h.i.+t. He sounded like every fat f.u.c.k I run into every day.”
”Did you think...” Jack began. ”Did you think it sounded like he was... smiling?”
”Yeah. A little.” Sam plastered a smile on his face and mimicked some of what Mr. Grin said. ”Yeah, I think it did sound like he was smiling. You know, there was this kid we went to school with. We all called him Smiley, you know, because it looked like he was always smiling. Maybe it was just the shape of his mouth or something.”
Jack felt his hopes surge wildly out of control.
Was it possible?
”So, you think it could be him? What was his name?”
”Oh, his name was David Lattimore. It couldn't be him though. He killed himself shortly after graduation.” Sam chuckled. ”Maybe I'm sick but the only thing I could picture was him swinging from that rope with a smile plastered on his face. It must have been a f.u.c.king weird thing to see.”