Out of the Black (14 page)

I pulled myself back onto the platform and slipped down to sitting. My heart was beating so hard in my chest that I could feel it in my throat. When I was ready, I pushed myself up and tried to catch my breath.

I glanced down at Roach’s apartment and saw a man climbing out of her window and onto the fire escape. He was moving fast, and he had a gun in his hand.

I had to get up.

I wasn’t about to try the ledge again, so that left one option. I stood and kicked the window, shattering the glass, then bent down and crawled through into a dark room filled with cardboard moving boxes.

At first, I thought I’d come in through a storage room, but that changed when the woman sitting on the couch in the corner started screaming.

I held up my hands and said, “I’m sorry.”

It didn’t help.

The woman kept screaming.

I got to my feet and wove my way past the boxes to the front door. I pulled it open, but it caught on the chain lock. I slammed it shut, slid the chain, and tried again. This time, the door opened easily, and I ran out into the hallway.

Behind me, the woman stopped screaming, but only for a minute. By the time I reached the utility door leading to the stairwell, she’d started again, and I knew the man on the fire escape had just come inside.

I waited for gunshots, but this time they never came.

I took my .45 from my belt and eased the utility door open. The stairwell was empty. I took one last look back then ran down the steps, tak+stas came to meing them two at a time.

I’d made it down two floors when I heard the utility door open above me. Then a man’s voice echoed through the stairwell.

“You can’t get out,” he said. “There’s no place to go.”

I kept running.

When I got to the second floor, I looked over the railing and saw two men coming up the stairs.

Above me, the man with the gun was coming down fast.

I pushed through the door onto the second floor and ran down the hallway. I checked a couple doors, all locked. Then I turned the corner and saw a kid, earbuds in his ears, step out from one of the apartments and into the hallway. He didn’t notice me.

I came up behind him, gun drawn.

When he saw me, he pressed himself flat against the wall and said, “I don’t have any money, man.”

I motioned to the door and said, “Open it.”

“There’s nothing in there, I swear.”

I could hear the men coming onto the second floor shouting, their footsteps heavy on the thin carpet.

I pointed the gun in the kid’s face.

“Open the fucking door.”

The kid reached down and unlocked the door and swung it wide.

I motioned back over my shoulder toward the growing sound of footsteps and said, “You should hide.”

“What?”

I ran inside and locked the door behind me. The apartment was the same layout as Roach’s place, only reversed. Instead of looking out over the alley, the window leading to the fire escape faced the empty street.

I pushed the window open and crawled out. I could hear voices from the hall, then the kid said, “He’s in there.”

I pulled the latch to lower the ladder, and the metal screeched. It dropped halfway to the street then stopped.

“Shit.”

I kicked the side, but it wouldn’t move.

I heard keys turning in the lock and the men moving outside the door. I looked over the edge of the fire escape at the sidewalk below. It was at least twenty feet down, and there was nothing to break my fall.

No choice.

I put my foot on the ladder and started down. When I got to the end, I let my feet hang out into nothing and climbed, hand over hand, down to the last rung and stayed there, still a good fifteen feet from the ground.

Above me, one of the men said, “He’s down here.”

I looked up and saw them climbing through the window and onto the fire escape.

I let go of the ladder and fell.

When I hit the ground, my leg slipped on the snow, and I feltand you shoot

I drove fast.

I could feel the adrenaline pulsing through me, and every part of me seemed to shake. The pain in my knee had gotten worse, and whenever I moved my leg, my mouth would turn sour and my stomach would twist. Twice, I had to pull over and lean out of the car, and both times nothing came up but stomach acid.

After the second time, I leaned my head against the steering wheel and listened to the wind outside. My thoughts were spinning out of control, and nothing I did helped.

They’d known about Roach. They’d been waiting.

I felt like a fool for not expecting it. If Pinnell could find out about me, he would’ve had no problem tracing everything back to the salon.

Now, Roach was dead, and time was running out.

I was sure the news I’d made it out of Pella Valley had made its way back to the old man. That meant things were about to get more complicated. I still had to find Pinnell, but without Roach I didn’t know where to begin.

Then it came to me.

I didn’t like the answer, but I also knew I couldn’t do this one alone.

Outside, a blue Jeep sped by. The radio was loud, and the heavy bass rattled the windows of the cruiser. I watched it disappear around the end of the block, then I reached out and put the car in gear.

My hand was no longer shaking.

I took it as a good sign.

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Murphy’s bar was a long, one-level brick building in the warehouse district. The door was metal, faded green, and there were two large front windows and a row of smaller, square windows along the sides. It was an easy place to miss if you didn’t know what you were looking for.

There was a parking garage next door, and I pulled in and took a space as close to the front as I could. I didn’t trust my knee to take me very far, but I wasn’t about to park a stolen police cruiser in front of Murphy’s place.

I was desperate, not stupid.

I shut off the engine and opened the door. When I slid my leg out, my knee screamed at me, and tiny beads of sweat formed on my skin.

I closed my eyes and waited for the pain to pass. Once it did, I tried again, easing my legs out and pushing myself up to standing. When I felt steady, I put a hand against the wall and moved slowly through the parking garage and out onto the street.

By the time I got to Murphy’s, my knee had started to loosen up a little. I stood outside and tried to collect myself. Then I pushed the door open and walked in.

There was no one inside except for a woman standing behind the bar holding a clipboard. She was young and had
pomegranate-red hair that fell around her face in tight curls. When she saw me, she set the clipboard down and watched me ease over and sit on one of the barstools.

She came over slow.

I leaned out and grabbed a chair from one of the tables and pulled it close. I set my leg on top of it and tried my best to ignore the pain.

The woman stood behind the bar, watching me.

“Can I get a bag of ice?” I asked.

“What else?”

“That’s it.”

The woman frowned. “This isn’t a hospital, buddy. Order a drink or hobble your busted ass out of here.”

I stared at her, smiling despite the pain, and said, “Jameson’s, neat.”

She stared at me for a moment longer, her eyes narrow, then turned back to the bar and grabbed the Jameson bottle from the shelf. She poured the drink and set it aside.

“And a bag of ice.”

“I heard you the first time.” She took a bar towel, laid it out flat, and scooped ice into the center. She folded the edges of the towel over and twisted it like a wonton before handing it to me. “No bags, so you’ll have to make do.”

I took the ice and the drink and thanked her.

I pulled up my pant leg and saw my knee for the first time. The skin was already turning a dark shade of blue, and my kneecap looked swollen and out of place.

“Jesus,” the woman said. “And I thought your face looked bad. You really did a number on it, didn’t you?”

I told her I did, then reached for the drink, downed it, and set the empty glass on the bar.

“You owe me eight bucks for the drink.” She motioned to my knee. “Ice is on the house.”

“Start a tab?”

“A what?”

I looked around the bar. “Is Murphy +erasi bhere?”

The woman eyed me, didn’t answer.

“I’m a friend of his,” I said. “Is he in back?”

“I’d have to check.”

“Do you mind?” I asked. “I’d do it myself, but—”

“Murphy?” The woman never took her eyes off me. “You back there?”

He answered, his voice muted through the wall. “What do you need?”

“Some sad-looking motherfucker out here wants to run a tab.”

“Tell him to fuck off.”

The woman smiled. “You heard the man.”

I nodded, yelled back, “Brian?”

A moment later, I heard a chair scrape across the floor, then the door to the back room opened and Jimmy stood in the doorway.

He saw me and shook his head. “Yeah, it’s him.”

Brian said something I didn’t quite hear, then Jimmy waved me back. “Come on, Matt.”

I pointed to my leg. “That’s going to be tough.”

Jimmy stepped back and closed the door. I could hear them talking inside, then the door opened and Brian came out carrying an unlit cigar in his hand.

He saw me and stopped halfway. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Long story,” I said. “Can we talk? Alone?”

Murphy turned to the woman behind the bar. “Rita, give us a minute, will ya?”

“I’m doing inventory.”

“It can wait.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Rita grabbed the clipboard, walked out from behind the bar, and disappeared into the back room, mumbling under her breath.

Murphy sat next to me at the bar, silent.

“I need your help,” I said.

Murphy smiled. “I think you and I should get something straight.” He motioned to the back room. “I heard about what you said to my brother. He didn’t have to come talk to you. That was a courtesy.”

“This isn’t about that,” I said. “I’ve got a real problem, and—”

“What else is new, Matt?” Murphy pointed at me with the cigar. “What was it last time? Losing your house, wasn’t it? When is it not a real problem with you?”

“Jay came to me with a job,” I said. “He had the whole thing planned out, but it didn’t go the way we thought it would.”

Murphy laughed. “Tell me you didn’t get wrapped up in one of Jay’s plans.”

“Hold on, I—”

“Christ, Matt, you of all people should know better.”

“Just listen.”

“No, I’m not going to listen.” Murphy sat up. “Things have been bad for you. I get it, and I’m happy to help out a friend, but only to a point. After the way you treated Jimmy, I’m starting to feel unappreciated. Do you even know the shit I have to do to cover for you?” the lightDorothys out of

I started to argue, but Murphy held up one finger, stopping me.

“I’m not going to bail your ass out every time something goes wrong.” He looked at my knee and shook his head. “You got into this with Jay, he can help you out.”

“He can’t,” I said. “Not this time.”

“Why not?” Murphy asked. “Where is he?”

“He’s dead.”

Murphy stopped talking.

“Roach, too, I think. I didn’t see it, but—”

“Are you fucking with me?” Murphy stood up. “What do you mean he’s dead?”

“He overdosed,” I said. “Earlier today.”

“Jesus Christ.”

and disappear

I talked for a while, going over how Jay first approached me with his plan, and how I eventually caved and agreed to help. I told him the lightg">okke about Roach, the drugs, and how Jay had overdosed on the floor of the warehouse.

“That was when Roach ran out.”

“But you stayed.”

“I thought I could salvage it,” I said. “I thought I could pay you back, then grab Anna and leave the city.”

Murphy frowned. “Finish the story.”

I told him how I tried to meet with Pinnell to collect the money, and how he didn’t show up. Then I told him about the phone call.

“He called you?”

“He had someone watching me,” I said. “He knew exactly who I was, where I lived—all of it.”

Murphy seemed to think about this for a moment, then he said, “He tracked the van.”

I nodded. “How did you—”

“It’s basic stuff, Matt.”

There was an edge to that comment, and it cut deep. This was Murphy’s way of telling me I’d been an idiot, and I was in over my head. He was right, and there was no way I could argue.

“I went home right away,” I said. “That’s when I saw what happened.”

“And so you came here?”

“No.” I looked up at him. “I called him again and tried to reason with him. I wanted to exchange his wife for my daughter. He told me to meet him in Pella Valley, so I went back to the warehouse—”

“Why Pella Valley?”

“I didn’t ask,” I said. “I only wanted her back. I would’ve gone anywhere he wanted.”

“And he chose Pella Valley?”

I nodded. “The sheriff’s department down there, they work for him.”

Murphy frowned. “How do you know that?”