The Bitterest Pill

Eighteen

Jesse got Molly on the phone, told her about his suspicions, and gave her Chris Grimm’s address.

“Send somebody to sit on the house.”

“For how long, Jesse?”

“At least until morning.”

“I’ll send Gabe. What if Grimm shows?”

“There are no grounds for arrest. Officially, there’s no crime, so tell Gabe not to do anything but call me directly. I just want to talk to the kid. He’s already spooked.”

“Why’s he spooked?”

“Because I just chased him through the cemetery.”

“If it was anyone else, I’d think you were trying to be funny.”

“Nice,” Jesse said.

Molly shifted focus. “How was it today?”

“About how you would expect.”

“Bad?”

“Never good, putting a kid in the ground.”

Molly choked up. “No, I guess not. I’ve got to go, Jesse.”

He thought about heading home but realized that would be the first place the cops would go looking for him. After Chief Stone had chased him through the graveyard, he no longer doubted that the cops were on to him. Now calling Arakel was a matter of survival. He had to get out of Paradise and find a place to lie low until this thing with Heather blew over. His mom didn’t really give a shit about him anyway, and his stepdad would probably crack open a bottle of champagne at the idea of him splitting for good. He headed for Kennedy Park to make the call.

Arakel was impatient. “What is it? I have no time for this.”

Chris hesitated. “The cops tried to grab me today.”

“Where was this?”

“Outside of my school.” The kid lied, knowing that if he told the truth, Arakel would lose his mind.

The lie seemed to placate him, and now it was Arakel who was momentarily silent. “Where are you?”

“I’m in a place where they won’t find me for a while.”

“Stay there. I will call you soon. Do not worry. We will fix this.”

Arakel dreaded going to Mehdi with the problem. Mehdi had always thought his choice of the kid was a mistake — too weak and no toughness. The last thing he wanted to hear was an I-told-you-so. He had no choice, really. He was not an operations type of guy. He was good at taking instruction and following through, but thinking on his feet had never been his forte. He banged his knuckles on Mehdi’s office door.

“Come.”

Arakel stepped in.

Mehdi read his partner’s face as if it were a Times Square billboard. “There is trouble.”

“In Paradise, yes.”

“With the kid?”

“He says the police are after him.”

Mehdi wagged his finger. “I told you so.” He frowned, gave it some thought, and flipped a set of keys at Arakel. “Go pick him up in the van. Take Stojan and Georgi with you.”

“Why do I need—”

“They will know where to go.” Mehdi stood up and patted his partner’s cheek. “Try not to disappoint me more than you already have.”

“But he is only a boy.”

“A boy, yes. A boy who can have you spend the rest of your life inside a federal prison. Think of it this way. A hand grenade will kill you no matter who pulls the pin, a child or a monster. The trick is to remove the possibility of explosion. Stojan and Georgi will find out what the boy has said and...” Mehdi turned back to his desk, opened the top drawer, and removed a sleek black pistol. He released the magazine into his palm, inspected it, replaced it in the handle, worked the slide, and checked the safety. He handed it to Arakel. “And when they have gathered all there is to know from the boy, you will make sure there is no possibility of the hand grenade exploding.”

Arakel took the pistol. He handled it awkwardly, shoving it into his jacket pocket. But Mehdi wasn’t finished.

“Alert everyone in the supply chain in that area. Obviously, we need a new recruit. Make it happen.”

Arakel turned and left. He prayed silently for the situation to somehow resolve itself without the use of force. He might as well have prayed for peace on earth. Neither was going to happen.