Tick Tock

Chapter 100

His skull on fire and his vision blurring, Apt pulled himself up onto his knees.

He wiped his eyes. There was a kid in front of him on the top step of the deck. He had an aluminum baseball bat on his shoulder. He was Hispanic, maybe ten or eleven, wearing Yankees pajamas.

"Who are you?" the kid said, brandishing the bat. "I saw you come past my window. You're a Flaherty, aren't you? Why the hell can't you people leave us alone?"

Apt put up his hands as the kid feinted with the bat. He couldn't believe it. He'd come this far and some ten- or eleven-year-old punk had taken him out? With a bat? What kind of crazy father was Bennett, anyway?

"Wait. I'm not Flaherty," Apt said.

"Bull. You look crazy. What's that? A Mohawk or something?"

Apt stood up, holding his aching head, smiling. "I think there's been a mix-up. Are you Mike's kid? I work with your dad. I'm a cop, too."

The kid paused. Confusion eclipsed the kid's face.

Apt snapped his finger.

"Sorry. I keep forgetting how crazy I look. I'm actually undercover."

Apt watched as the kid's face softened, now filling with regret.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, mister. I didn't mean to hurt you. I thought you were somebody else. Why didn't you use the front door?"

"That was some swing," Apt said, stepping toward him. "Don't tell me you bat cleanup?"

"Uh-huh. Your head is bleeding. I'm really sorry. I'll get my dad."

"Actually, could you just hold up a second first?" Apt said and then suddenly clocked him. The boy flew back and ricocheted off the deck railing before he fell flat on his face, out cold.

Apt glanced at the kid, then at the house, thinking.

He lifted the kid over his shoulder and went down the deck steps toward the alley and the street.