Trust Me

19

It took three phone calls for Mouser to find the right kind of doctor for Snow. He called Henry and screamed into his voicemail while Snow bled in the back seat. Snow kept laughing.

‘I never saw one die,’ she said. ‘Bombs put a distance between me and them. But the gun, Jesus, that was cool, I saw it happen!’ Then she would scream and laugh and clutch at her shoulder. She never complained.

Quickly, Henry called back, steered him to a doctor on the western edge of downtown Chicago. The doctor’s medical license was long suspended because she’d burned through too many prescription pads in a year, and once paroled she was a resource for the gangbangers and the mob when they needed needles and sutures. The doctor worked at a shoddy sandwich joint on a narrow street. Her apartment was above the shop. He carried Snow up the stairs and the doctor met him at the door, still with a hair net on her head and hands bright with vinegar and oil.

But her demeanor was brisk and efficient and the apartment was spotlessly clean. The doctor helped him get Snow into a small bedroom stuffed with medical gear.

‘Outside,’ the doctor ordered.

‘It’s gonna be okay,’ he said to Snow. ‘I’m going to kill him for you.’

‘No. I’ll kill Schoolboy for me,’ she whispered.

‘I don’t wish to hear these promises,’ the doctor said. ‘Outside, please, sir.’

He realized that he could care about Snow. It was unsettling. He sat on the couch in the apartment and an hour later the doctor emerged. He had been watching the news accounts of the shooting – no mention of Snow or him or anyone fitting their descriptions fleeing the scene.

The doctor dropped a bullet in his hand. ‘Since you seem sentimental about revenge. She asked you to keep this for her.’

‘I’ll bet she did.’ Mouser closed his fist around the bullet.

‘She needs rest but she will be fine. Bullet in the meat of the shoulder, didn’t hit anything major but she’s going to be sore for several days. I’ll give you a couple of bottles of painkillers and gear to tend the wound. You know how to change a dressing?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘I gave her blood. I keep a stash. Rest will set her straight. Good luck.’

‘Can she stay here while she recovers?’

‘Let me suggest a motel nearby. You can recover in privacy and I’m close enough to come tend to her if needed.’

He felt a surge of gratitude. This was why he was glad to be part of the Night Road; it had gotten him this doctor. Without the Night Road, he would have had nowhere to turn. ‘Can I see her?’

‘Yeah. I’ll get your goods ready. Then I will look at your leg, change the dressing. She told me you needed care as well.’

Snow lay in the bed. She seemed smaller. She stared at the ceiling. The room smelled of blood and chemicals and wet paper. He took her hand; she pulled free from his fingers, which surprised him more.

‘Don’t be mad,’ he said.

‘Schoolboy’s gotten away from us three times now. It’s embarrassing. He’s a nothing.’

He crossed his arms. ‘Did you have to kill the cop and the little freak?’

Her eyes, half-lidded, opened widely. ‘Yes. The cop was the greater threat. The little freak would have been stuck on us like a flea on a dog, wanting to be our new best friend, according to what Henry said.’ She put the flat of her hand over her eyes. ‘The nerve of that bastard. Shooting me.’

The doctor came in, clucked over Mouser’s stab wound. She changed the bandage and told Snow she’d done a good job tending to Mouser. Snow thanked her. They left and got settled into a cheap motel. The room was clean, smelled of disinfectant and the cable TV worked. He tucked Snow into bed, gently.

She watched him. ‘Don’t get all sweet on me,’ she said, sleepy from the medications.

‘I don’t do sweet.’

She gave out a soft growl of a laugh. She touched the back of his hand, tenderly. He didn’t know what to say.

His phone buzzed.

‘Mouser? Henry asked me to call you. We have a lead on your targets.’ One of Henry’s friends, another member of the Night Road, he thought; the voice was dry, Southern.

‘A lead.’

‘On Eric Lindoe and his girl.’

‘They’re in Thailand, according to Henry.’

‘No. They were ticketed on the flight but they were not, repeat not, on the arrival manifest. They didn’t get on the plane. No charges on their cards in Thailand, no records of their passports going through Thai customs. We cracked the relevant databases fifteen minutes ago.’

‘Where are they?’

‘They might still be in Chicago. No one’s looking for them there.’ Oh, yes, please, he thought. ‘Where in Chicago?’

‘They have not used credit cards. They could be staying with a friend. We checked Aubrey’s phone records and several of her calls are placed to a woman named Grace Crosby. I did a cross-check and Grace Crosby’s credit card was charged in Detroit today. So Crosby might have let them stay in her apartment while she’s gone.’

‘Where is this apartment?’

The voice fed him an address in Lincoln Park.

‘I can be there in twenty minutes.’

‘Call me when you get there, I can give you a gift.’

‘What?’

‘I can cut the power to the building. Another friend gave us a tap into the power grid. I can kill the power in the whole neighborhood. We mastered how to do this in preparation for Hellfire. Make the overall situation during the attack worse, you know.’

He thanked his fellow Night Roader and hung up. Wow, work as a team effort. Hope stirred in his chest. This would all be resolved soon. The loose ends tied into neat knots, the money in the right pockets again. Mouser leaned close to Snow. She was fast asleep. He risked the slightest kiss on her forehead. She didn’t stir. He headed for his car, the warmth of her still on his lips.