“Please don’t hit me again.”
“Don’t make me, and I won’t,” Jonathan said. “But you need to know that what you felt right then is only the opening act. We can keep that going all night long. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”
Jimmy shook his head frantically. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“I hope so,” Jonathan said. “But I’ll be honest with you. My friend hopes just the opposite. He would like nothing better than to beat you till you’d spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair.” It was a classic good-cop, bad-cop banter, but in this case, it was a statement of fact.
“I swear to God, I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“All right, then. Let’s start with last night. When I know everything that you know, I’ll be out of your life.”
“All I did was drive,” Jimmy whined. “I never went inside. I had nothing to do with the shooting. I swear to God.”
“But you knew you were there to kidnap children,” Jonathan said.
Jimmy said nothing.
Jonathan figured he was looking for the right answer. “Lying to me will be a mistake,” he said. “Do we need to hit you again?”
“Yes,” Jimmy said. “I mean no! You don’t have to hit me again. Yes, I knew that we were going to be snatching kids.”
“For what reason?”
“They never told me.”
“Didn’t you ask?”
Jimmy shook his head. “I didn’t want to know. I didn’t need to know.”
“You must have heard names,” Jonathan prompted. “You must have heard who they were coming to get.”
“I knew there’d be two,” Jimmy said. He spoke emphatically, clearly anxious to prove that he was being truthful. “But I only heard one name. It was Evan something. An Irish name.”
“Guinn,” Jonathan said.
“That’s it. But then they came out and I heard they’d shot somebody. I was like, what the fuck?”
“So Evan Guinn is the only name you heard,” Jonathan recapped.
“I swear to God.” Despite the slack in his leash, he stood on tiptoes and kept his jaw extended.
“Why him and not the other one?” Jonathan asked.
Jimmy’s breathing quickened again. It was his tell for not having the answer he thought they wanted to hear. “I don’t know. I swear to God. I only know about Evan Guinn because I overheard the name.”
“Why did they take him?”
“They didn’t say.”
“You mean you didn’t ask.”
Jimmy hesitated. “Yeah, that, too. Look, all I know is that this guy paid me six hundred bucks to drive a car, okay?”
“You knew it was for kidnapping children,” Jonathan pressed, “but you never thought to ask why?”
Jimmy dared to bring his heels to the ground and lean against the column. “I figured it was obvious,” he said with a barely perceptible shrug. “I mean that place is an orphanage for criminals’ kids, right? I figure somebody pissed off somebody else, and they wanted to snatch their kid because of it.”
Before Jonathan could intervene, Boxers swung his rubber truncheon with everything he had into the heavy timber pillar, shaking the barn with an enormous boom. “And that seems all right to you?” he growled.
“Hey, I’m just telling you what happened!” Jimmy yelled, once again on his toes.
Jonathan held out a hand to settle Boxers and fired a glare that told him to back off. The vigilante that lived in Jonathan’s soul wanted to beat the kid to death, too. But they were professionals, and they had a job to do. There was no room for that kind of outburst.
“Everybody just calm down,” Jonathan soothed. “Take a deep breath, both of you. And I mean that literally.” He gave himself a few seconds to follow his own advice. “Jimmy, it’s hard for us to understand how someone can agree to kidnap a pair of children and not ask why.”
“If they wanted me to know why, they’d have told me why,” Jimmy said. “Plus, like I said, I figured I already knew. It’s about criminals doing what they do best.”
“Who hired you?” Jonathan asked.
“A guy named Sjogren. Jerry, I think. Or maybe George, I’m not sure. A J sound. But I’ve done a couple of things for him before.”
“Kidnappings?” Jonathan asked.
Jimmy shook his head vehemently. “No, nothing like that. One bank thing that didn’t turn out to be much, and a convenience store thing. Nothing where anybody got hurt.”
“But they could have,” Boxers suggested.
“They didn’t. ”
Jonathan shot another disapproving glare. Boxers knew better than this. For an interrogation to work, there had to be one contact, one focus. Boxers knew this as well as anyone, but he was pissed.
“What happened to that guy who was shot?” Jimmy asked.
“Why do you care?” Jonathan asked.
Jimmy blew a puff of air through his nose and shook his head. “I was the fucking driver, okay? I didn’t plan any of this shit. I’m not some fucking animal who snatches kids, but I also know that I’m fucked by the law because I was part of it. Doesn’t mean I want some guy to die.” His voice dropped in volume. “I was earning a living. I didn’t think it would go like this.”
Jonathan kept to the point. “This Sjogren guy. Is it S-HO-G-R-E-N?”
“I don’t know how he spells it. It’s not like we wrote letters back and forth.”
Jonathan conceded the point. “Was he with you at the school?”
Despite the fear and the discomfort, Jimmy was able to cough out a laugh. “Sjogren? Hell no. He never gets his hands dirty.”
“He’s just the middleman,” Jonathan helped.
“Exactly. People need help and they contact him.”
“Who were his customers?”
“The first jobs I did with him were about a thug named Sammy Bell. I don’t know if you know that name.”
Jonathan shot a knowing look at Boxers. Sammy Bell used to be an enforcer for the Slater crime family, whose interests often clashed with those of Jonathan’s father. When Old Man Slater kicked the bucket a dozen years or so ago, Sammy had stepped in to take over.
“This was Sammy Bell’s operation?” Jonathan asked.
“No, no, no, no. I didn’t say that. I said that’s how I first met Sjogren. I don’t know if Sammy Bell is involved.”
“Where can I find this Sjogren guy?” he asked.
The breathing tell kicked in again. “I don’t know,” Jimmy said. “I’ve never tried to find him. I don’t have to. He finds me when the time comes.”
“Is Sjogren his real name?”
“It’s all I’ve ever called him.”
“And what about the others?” Jonathan asked, moving on. “What did you call them?”
Frustration took root. “Jesus, you make it sound like we’re drinking buddies. I didn’t call them anything. Hell, I didn’t even want to talk to them.”
“Why’s that?”
“Scary, scary dudes. Like they were pissed at the world. They growled and snapped at each other like they were married or something.”
“How many of them were there?”
Jimmy hesitated long enough to verify the number in his head before answering. “Four,” he said. “Five, including me. Only, they all seemed to know each other, and they weren’t happy about me tagging along.”
