The Blade Itself

37

The Camaro reeked. What was it with Mexicans and their fucking air fresheners? Evan had fallen for the car the moment he saw it, with its stripper’s curves and tinted windows. He’d jimmied the door, broken the ignition, stripped the wires, and had it purring in a minute. But though he’d thrown the cardboard Christmas tree out the window, the smell had seeped into the fabric. His cigarettes were smoking sour, and Debbie was alternating dead silence with talking too much.

“I’m going to go open the trunk, let some air in.” She reached for the handle.

“Sit back.”

She turned to glower at him, that naggy glare all women had. “He’s going to suffocate.”

“He’ll be fine.” He kept his tone level but firm. Sometimes, he swore to God, it was like talking to a dog.

“I don’t see why we had to move anyway. It was nicer in the trailer.”

He stabbed out his cigarette, ignoring her. He’d parked up the block from the construction site, and had a clear view in all directions. A row of run-down apartments sat on the right-hand side, and in the hour they’d been parked, he’d seen only one person leave, a tired-looking black woman wide as she was tall. The Camaro pointed away from the fenced entrance to the loft complex, but he had the mirrors angled to cover it. He could feel the tension winding in him, like thick cables cranking a notch at a time. Prison had taught him to use that. The long, slow menace of years stretched you thinner and thinner, forced you to learn to sit still, to turn the growing tension into strength. The tighter the cable wound, the greater the force when you let it snap. By tonight he’d be a millionaire, and Danny would be left to clean up the mess.

As though thinking his name had conjured him up, the silver Explorer slid into Evan’s rearview mirror. He could see Danny at the wheel, and though he couldn’t make out an expression at this distance, he imagined pursed lips and a wrinkled brow, like an old lady.

“Man doesn’t have a clue.” The Explorer loomed steadily larger, running maybe five below the speed limit. Danny checking things out, but not wanting to get noticed. “Fifty says he drives right by us.”

Debbie looked over, puzzled, and then the truck passed them and continued to the end of the block.

“Hey,” she said, “wasn’t that Danny? It looked like his truck.”

The left blinker came on, and the SUV vanished around the corner.

He turned to her and smiled, enjoying her confusion. “You owe me fifty bucks.”

She tried to smile back, but he could see the flicker of fear in her eyes. It’d been there since yesterday in the parking lot. And it had gotten more pronounced this morning, when he’d made her blow him to pass the time. As her head had bobbed up and down in his lap, he’d been able to tell that she wished she were anywhere else, and that had added a little spice.

Funny thing was, if she hadn’t snuck around on him, hadn’t gone running to Danny, he would have given her the money. Now she was just one more thing Danny could deal with.

He waited, watching the mirror. Like clockwork, the Explorer came back around and stopped in front of the gate. Danny got out, opened the gate, then drove the truck through, making an elaborate turn to back the ass-end up to the trailer. Always overthinking.

“What’s he doing?” Debbie was turned around in her seat to watch as Danny got out of the truck and walked into the trailer.

“Making his play.”

She looked back, and he could see her figuring it out. “We didn’t move Tommy because you were afraid of the police. We moved him to get away from Danny.”

He nodded, not looking at her, staring toward the trailer instead. He could imagine it, Danny stepping into that dark space, looking around. He’d be getting that tingling nerve sense in his fingers and feet, catching the first hints that something was wrong.

Can you feel it, Danny? All of your betrayals are coming round again.

The weird thing was, some part of this stabbed him, made him wonder what he was doing. The man in that dark trailer had once been his brother.

Once, but long ago.

“Who’s that?”

Her voice pulled him from his head. In the rearview mirror, a light blue Ford was pulling into the open gate. There were two men inside, both wearing hats. The car moved into the construction site like it owned the place. Detectives in an unmarked.

The tension in him wound further. Danny must have gone to the police. It wouldn’t change anything, but it made his blood burn.

“Evan, what’s going on?” Her voice went up to an irritating whine. “Are those cops?”

With the gate wide open, he could see most of the way to the trailer. The blue car had parked right in front of Danny’s, blocking him in. The doors winged open, and the detectives got out, both of them with hands high up on their sides. They moved with professional ease, each checking a different direction, trusting each other. A black guy in a bright orange shirt and an old-time hat stood on the side of the car closest to them, squinting in their direction.

“Oh God, he’s gonna see us,” Debbie squeaked. “We’ve got to go.” She reached for his arm, shook it. “Come on.”

He didn’t let the cable inside him snap. Just slip a couple of notches. An open-handed smack sent her tumbling toward the dash. He moved fast enough she didn’t even gasp. Just came back up with both hands at her cheek and the look of a scared little girl.

“Be quiet,” he said, locking the car doors with a flick of the switch and then turning back to the construction site. The door was open, and he could see Danny standing in the frame. The cops were both turned toward him now, their hands resting on their guns, neither drawn. Evan wished he could hear what was being said.

And then Danny raised his hands, turned around, and laced them behind his head. The white detective took the cuffs from his belt and locked Danny’s hands behind his back.

Danny hadn’t gone to the police at all. Somehow, they’d come after him.

Debbie had started whimpering, but kept it quiet enough that he ignored her.

The detective guided Danny into the back of the car, then closed the door and stood talking to the other cop. He gestured to the trailer, and the black one shook his head. Evan’s eyes narrowed. There might be enough inside to piece together what had happened. He hadn’t counted on cops, and his heart raced as one of them climbed the cinder-block steps. But the guy only shut the door, then got into Danny’s truck and followed the blue Ford out. Maybe they didn’t have a warrant. Both cars stopped just outside the gate, and the white cop got out to close it.

Would you fucking look at that. Sean Nolan, from the parish. Small fucking world.

Nolan latched the chain, then took a long look up and down the street. There was no way they could be seen, not with the tinted windows and glaring morning sun, but Evan thought the detective’s eyes paused on the Camaro. He moved a hand to the ignition, ready to roll, but Nolan got back in his car. They pulled out, turned right, then left, and were gone.

What the fuck had just happened?

Evan twisted around to face the windshield, ignoring Debbie’s accusing stare as she wriggled as far against the door as she could. Somehow the police had found Danny. It couldn’t be an accident. He must have given himself away somehow.

Danny could’ve told him three reasons it had happened, probably have had them alphabetically. But at the end of the day, who cared why? The fact was that Danny was on his way to the police station, and when they got there, the police were going to start leaning on him. Hard.

Which made it cover-your-ass time.

The cops couldn’t have known about the kidnapping. He’d seen street fights where sixteen squad cars rolled up in minutes. No way they’d send just two detectives for this. So it all came down to what Danny did next. What he told them.

And that made his next move clear. He smiled, popped his head from side to side, and started the car. “Buckle up, honey pie.”

“Where are you taking me?” Her voice was cold, and the contempt in it amused him.

He turned to her. A bright red mark burned on her cheek. He smiled. “We’re going to get ourselves a little insurance.”