Out of the Black (15 page)

“It was a trap,” I said. “Once he had his wife back, the deputies swarmed the place. Anna wasn’t there.”

“You were arrested?”

“They never arrested me,” I said. “They threw me in a holding cell with his wife’s driver.” I hesitated. “They killed him in front of me.”

“
What?
”

“I think Pinnell wanted to make an impression,” I said. “He kept asking questions, wanting to know who I was working for, whose idea it had been. I told him it was only me and Jay, but he didn’t believe me. He kept calling it a plot, an attack on his family. He was convinced someone else was involved.”

“Was there anyone else?”

“Just Roach,” I said. “It was her idea and his plan, start to finish.”

“Blind luck.”

I thought about it, nodded.

“What happened next?”

“They gave me some kind of drug.” I pulled up my sleeve and showed him the bruise where the needle went in. “It could’ve been anything. It’s all a haze.”

“You don’t know what you told him?” came around the cornertiasi b

“There was nothing I could’ve told him. I wasn’t lying. I told him what I knew.”

“And you don’t remember anything?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

Murphy turned and put the bottle of Jameson back on the shelf. “What exactly do you want me to do, Matt?”

“I want you to help me find my daughter,” I said. “Help me get her back.”

“Oh, is that it?” Murphy shook his head, laughed. “You have no idea who you’re up against.”

“I’m getting her back,” I said. “I don’t care if I have to go up against the devil himself.”

“The devil himself.” Murphy smiled. “That’s not too far off.”

“You know where he is?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t—”

“Goddamn it.” I slammed my fist on the bar and sat up fast. I felt the sudden movement in my knee, and I bit down hard against the pain. “I don’t care if you help, but if you know where he is, or where he took my daughter, you have to tell me.”

Murphy frowned.

I took a deep breath and tried to keep my voice calm. “I have to find him.”

“Then what?” Murphy motioned to my leg. “You’re in no shape to go after anyone, especially not Roman Pinnell.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

Murphy watched me for a moment then said, “You know my old man worked for him a few times? Nothing big, but he saw enough to know what the guy was about.”

I didn’t say anything.

“He used to tell me stories when he was drunk,” Murphy said. “Son of a bitch never said a word to me when he was sober, but once he had a few drinks in him, you couldn’t shut him up.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He told me Pinnell came up through the old South American cartels, and that he had his own way of doing things.” Murphy paused. “I think it made him uncomfortable. He didn’t say too much, but what he did say made an impression. I think he just had to tell someone.”

“Was it that bad?”

Murphy looked at me. “Things I never dreamed of as a kid. It used to give me nightmares.”

“And now he has my daughter.”

Murphy watched me. “One thing doesn’t make sense.”

“What’s that?”

“Why are you still alive?”

I didn’t have an answer.

“I’ve been trying to think of someone who went up against Pinnell and survived, and there’s no one.” Murphy pointed at me. “Just you. Why is that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he say anything to you when they let you out?”

“They didn’t exactly let me out.”

Murphy frowned.

“One of the deputi the light long s out of es,” I said. “Just a kid. He let me go.”

“He let you go?” Murphy stepped closer, leaned into the bar. “They beat you and drugged you then just let you walk out of a police holding cell?”

“The building was empty,” I said. “It was only me and the kid. He s slow, patient

“You’re paranoid.”

“Maybe.” Murphy slid the last of the shells into the shotgun and tossed the empty box in the trash. “Maybe not.”

“You think I was followed?”

“No idea,” Murphy said. “All I know is that Roman Pinnell isn’t careless, and he’s not going to forget.” He pointed at me with the shotgun. “They’re coming for you.”

“No,” I said. “You’re wrong.”

Murphy ignored me and yelled toward the back room.

“Rita?”

A minute later, the door opened and she leaned out. She had a clipboard in one hand, and her red hair was pulled back and tucked behind her ears, revealing a galaxy of tiny freckles that ran across her shoulders before disappearing under her shirt.

“Yeah?”

“It’s probably nothing,” Murphy said. “But I want you to be ready just in case.”

Rita frowned. “Ready for what?”

Murphy didn’t say anything, just held up the shotgun.

Rita’s eyes went wide. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” She came out into the bar and slapped the clipboard down on one of the tables. The sound was loud and it echoed through the empty room. “You promised me, Murphy. You promised.”

“Special circumstances.” Murphy walked around the bar toward the large front window and looked out into the cold. “Can’t be helped.”

Rita stood with her hands on her hips. She didn’t say anything at first, then she turned to me. “This is you, isn’t it?”

I looked at Murphy, but he was still staring out the front window and didn’t notice. Even if he had, I didn’t think he would’ve said anything.

I was on my own.

“Answer me, you limpy motherfucker.” Rita stepped closer. “Things have been quiet around here for a long time now, and I want to keep it that way.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re not what?” She stared at me. “Huh?”

“Trying to cause trouble.”

“No, you are trouble.” Rita pointed. “The second you walked in, I saw it. Murphy, tell this friend of yours that we don’t need—”

“Rita,” Murphy said. “Shut the fuck up.”

“What?”

“Why don’t you head home?” He turned from the window and walked over to where she was standing and put his arm around her shoulder. “Take the rest of the night off. Go out the back. I’ll meet you later.”

Rita stared at him, not moving.

For the moment, I was forgotten.

“You promise?” Her voice was soft.

Murphy nodded, and she leaned up and kissed him, long.

When they broke, she glanced over at me and shook her head. Then she grabbed the clipboard off the table and walked through the door into the back room.

“Don’t take forever, Murphy. I’ll only wait so long.”

A minute later, I heard a heavy door open somewhere in the back room. Then it slammed shut, and there was silence.

Murphy didn’t look at me, and for a while we sat in silence. I watched him absently tap his thumb against the shotgun as he stared out at the front window.

“This isn’t necessary,” I said. “Even if you’re right, they don’t know I’m here.”

Murphy pulled a chair from one of the tables and sat down, still facing the front. He didn’t say a word. came around the corner">asi b

“You think I’m wrong?” I asked.

“I’m not taking any chances.”

“Why would they let me go?” I asked. “If they were finished with me, why not kill me?”

“Obviously they’re not finished with you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You told me Pinnell thought someone else was involved. He even drugged you to find out who it was.”

“There wasn’t anyone else.”

“And that’s what you told him,” Murphy said. “But this guy is meticulous. If he didn’t get what he wanted from you in the cell, he’d try another way.”

“You think they let me go so they could follow me?”

“That’s right.” Murphy smiled. “It’s a smart idea.”

“He thinks I’ll lead him to whoever else was involved.”

“And when you do, he steps in.”

I paused. “I led him to Roach.”

Murphy nodded. “Looks that way.”

“Jesus.”

“You didn’t know,” Murphy said. “And Roach wasn’t exactly innocent. She knew what she was getting into.”

“It’s still my fault.”

“Let it go. We’ve got bigger things to—”

A single shot sounded outside. The bullet came through the front window, spiderwebbing the glass and burying itself in the back wall. I jerked away from the barstool and crouched down, waiting for more gunshots, not caring about the pain in my knee.

Murphy stayed where he was, staring at the o think about

“We’ve got to go. Now!”

Murphy lifted the handgun and fired several shots at the red lights, then we both ran through the door into the back room.

Once inside, Murphy shut the door and slid the bolt, locking it in place. I went for the emergency exit, but Murphy stopped me.

“No,” he said. “They’ll be watching the doors.”

“Then what do we do?”

Murphy looked down at the gun in his hand and slid the clip out. He counted the rounds and popped it back in.

“Murphy?”

“You armed?”

I reached back and touched the gun in my belt and nodded. “We can’t fight them, not here.”

“The hell we can’t.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” I said. “We have to get out of here.”

He didn’t move, so I got up and took the gun from my belt and started for the emergency exit. If he was right, someone
would be waiting on the other side of the door. I just hoped there weren’t too many of them.

I reached down to push the lock bar on the door, but before I could, Murphy said, “Matt, over here.”

He stepped back and knelt down beside the faded red-and-blue rug on the floor next to his desk. He lifted one corner and pulled it up. There was a trapdoor in the floor underneath. He unfastened two hook locks then pulled up on a small brass handle. The door creaked open, revealing a set of stairs leading down.

The air inside smelled wet and stale.

“What is this?”

“Storage cellar,” Murphy said. “There’s a light at the bottom and a ramp at the other end that leads up to a delivery door. It opens into a garage next door. I don’t think they know about it.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Jimmy’s still out there.”

“He’s dead,” I said. “Come on.”

Murphy shook his head, stepped aside.

“If you stay here, they’re going to kill you,” I said. “We’ll hit them back another time.”

Murphy seemed to think about this. Then he shook his head. “You go. I’ll make sure they don’t follow.”

I could hear voices on the other side of the door leading out into the bar, and for the first time I wondered why they weren’t following us. “They should be in here by now,” I said. “Something’s not right. I don’t like it.”

Murphy stared at the door and nodded, silent.

I looked at the open cellar door and the stairs leading down and said, “We’ll come back.”

Murphy stayed focused on the door, ignoring me. Then he frowned and said, “Do you smell that?”

I could barely breathe through my nose. Smelling something was out of the question, and I told him so.

Murphy stepped closer to the door leading out in the bar. He was staring at the ground. At first I didn’t see what he was looking at, then I did.

A clear liquid came pouring in under the door and spread across the floor in all directions.

“Shit.” Murphy backed up fast. “Go!”

I turned toward the cellar and started down the steps, hopping one at a time. Murphy followed. An instant later, I heard a loud rush of air, then a bright orange glow lit the steps and flashed hot against my skin as Murphy reached back and shut the cellar door.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. I could see the outline of a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and I reached up and pulled the chain.

The light came on bright.

The cellar was long and stretched out under the length of the bar. There were several kegs stacked two high along one side, and a wall of empty cardboard beer boxes along the other.

Above us, the fire alarms screamed.

“Now what?” I asked.

Murphy pushed past me and waved for me to follow. We crossed through the cellar to the ramp at the other end. He pointed up to the delivery door and said, “My car is right outside that door. If we’re lucky, they’re not watching.”

“And if they are?”

“Then we’ve got a problem.”

I followed Murphy up the ramp. He hesitated only for a moment, then he pushed the door open and we stepped out.

There was no one there.

We were standing in an empty parking garage surrounded by cold light and cement.

“Come on,” Murphy said. “Over here.”

He ran along the wall and turned the corner. I did my best to keep up, but each step sent jagged bolts of pain through my bones, and I fell behind.

When I came around the corner, I heard the low rumble of an engine and felt it vibrate in my chest. The car, an orange 1969 GTO, sat alone, idling steady under a flickering row of fluorescent lights.

Murphy was sitting behind the wheel, and I limped around to the passenger side and climbed in. Before I closed the door, I heard the faraway whine of sirens.

I closed the door, and Murphy pulled out of the space and headed for the exit. When we got to the street, I looked over and saw the flames and smoke rolling up out of the bar before trailing off and fading into the black sky. the lightof’as

Three of Pinnell’s men were standing out front watching it burn.

“Go,” I said. “They’ll see us.”

“No, the fire’s too bright.”

I looked over at Murphy. The light from the flames glowed orange off his skin.

“We’ll come back,” I said. “Let’s just go.”

Murphy didn’t say anything, and we sat there without saying a word.

The sirens were louder now. Still far away, but getting closer.

“Murphy?”

This time, he looked at me. It might’ve been the reflection of the fire, or maybe just the way the shadows fell across his face, but at that moment, I didn’t recognize him at all.

“Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he looked down at the dashboard, then reached out and shut off the headlights, dropping the car into darkness.

“What are you doing?”

Murphy hit the gas and pulled into the street. Instead of turning left toward the highway, he turned right toward the bar and the flames.