“In a minute, Bob. I just want to look at her for-”
“Pete, we don’t have a minute. We really got to-Shit!”
Ox was coming in their direction, his placid demeanor replaced by angry red knots of skin and bent lips that barely looked human. But it wasn’t Ox they had to worry about.
Thud!
The dull sound of a liquor bottle smacking against the kid’s skull caught Healy completely off guard. He turned just in time to see Cathy spit at the stunned Strohmeyer, who was now falling onto Bob’s shoulder.
“You son of a bitch!” she screamed at him. “I’ll kill you!” Cathy made to swing the bottle again, but Ox grabbed her arm before it started on its downward arc.
“Get him outta here!” the bouncer demanded, locking Cathy up with one arm.
Healy didn’t need to be told twice. He latched onto the kid, who, though not unconscious, was definitely not all there. It took every ounce of Healy’s strength to get the kid across the street and back into the car. He pulled the keys out of Pete’s pocket, started the engine, and headed west down Middle Country.
“Where you going, Bob?” the kid asked in an other-worldy voice.
“To get some ice. Cathy whacked you one pretty good. I don’t think you’re bleeding, but I wanna keep the swelling down.”
“No.”
“No what?”
“Turn left here,” Pete said, his voice still strange. “I want to show you something.”
Healy was torn. He might not get Strohmeyer this vulnerable again. On the other hand, he didn’t want to risk having the kid die on him. Healy was forced to admit to himself that in spite of it all, even the cruel things the kid had said the previous night, he kind of liked Pete. That when it comes to women, all men are idiots. It’s just that when you’re younger, it’s harder to hide your stupidity. He found himself hoping he was wrong about the kid and Reyes.
“Let me get you some ice first. Then you can show me whatever you want.”
“Turn left, Bob, please.”
Marla was frightened by how much she needed to hear from Joe. She was even more frightened by how she felt when he finally called.
“How’s your head?”
“Still there. I’ve got a headache, but I guess that’s gonna be par for the course for a while.”
“What’s up?”
“Can you come and get me?” he asked. “I’ll be over in-”
“I’m not at my apartment. I’m at University Hospital.” Her heart was pounding. “I thought you said-”
“I’m fine. It’s Frank. He tried killing himself tonight.”
“My god! Is he all right?”
“They think he’ll live,” Joe said. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Do you have a DVD player?”
“What?”
“A DVD player, do you-”
“Yeah. Why?”
“That depends on what we see on screen.”
In spite of the late hour and the nearly empty roads, it had taken them twenty minutes to get there. Some of that was attributable to the darkness and Healy’s unfamiliarity with this part of Long Island. It galled Bob that this kid from southern Arizona knew the island better than him. Although Bob had lived in Suffolk County for decades, he still considered himself a Brooklynite. Point to almost any spot on a map of New York City and he could tell you how to get there by road, bus, or subway. Point to a spot on Long Island east of the Smithaven Mall, and he needed directions.
Strohmeyer had seemed to regain his wits about ten minutes into the drive, but continued to refuse Healy’s offers of first aid. No, the kid was determined to get here. Wherever here was.
What here was, however, was pretty obvious. They had turned off a twisty, one-lane asphalt strip about two hundred yards back and pulled onto a gravel road. Pete had told Bob to park in a small dirt clearing in the midst of some tall pine woods. It was silent except for the sound of the engine and their breathing. Healy imagined that on a breezy summer night, this would be a beautiful spot for lovers who were short on motel cash. It was certainly a better choice than the Blue Fountain.
Pete Jr. reached over and killed the engine, grabbed the keys, and, as was his habit, got out of the car first. He walked around to the trunk, unlatched it, got a flashlight and a shovel. Healy wasn’t liking this, not one little bit. It was eerily reminiscent of the kind of place he and Joe Serpe had taken Toussant. But when Strohmeyer handed him the shovel, it eased Healy’s nerves some. Without a word, Pete just started walking into the woods, never turning on the flashlight. Fortunately, Healy could hear the kid’s footsteps on the mat of fallen pine needles and see his breath in the cold air, because as they got further into the woods it got darker and darker still.
Strohmeyer’s feet fell silent. Healy hurried to catch up. Ahead of him, a flashlight snapped on. A cone of light began slicing wide gashes in the blackness, the wounds sealing themselves as the back edge of the light passed through. Pete seemed to be searching for a specific spot, focusing the beam on an increasingly smaller area of the forest floor. By the time Healy stepped up to the kid, Strohmeyer had completely steadied the beam. It shone on a raised patch of earth covered with needles and branches between two big pines. You didn’t have to be a cop to figure out what was buried under there.
“Cathy showed me this place.”
“I figured.
“It’s the first place we ever did it. You think she takes Garcia here?”
“I don’t know, Pete. Why?”
“I left her a present. The ground was so hard, Bob,” Pete said, no emotion in his voice.
“Who is it?” Healy asked, careful to keep his own emotions in check.
“Just some illegal I gave a lift to.”
“Did he have a name?”
“Must have, but I didn’t know it. Does it matter? It was probably Jose. That’s how I think of him, as Jose. He had three thousand bucks in cash on him, but no ID.”
“Three thousand-”
“Yes sir. You see, the illegals can’t risk bank accounts and they usually live together in large groups. So they can’t just leave their money laying around the house. These guys even sleep with it on them and carry the cash with them all the time. That is, until they can wire it home.”
“Did you kill him for the money?”
“No, but I took it. He didn’t need it anymore.”
“Why are you telling me this, Pete?”
“Because I can’t live with it. I can’t sleep or anything without Cathy. And I want her to know. I want her to know she’s the reason.”
“Did you kill him here?”
“Yes, with that shovel. He was pretty drunk and easy to handle. I beat him pretty good. He didn’t have much of a face left when I buried him.”
“Did it feel good?”
“Great.”
“Didn’t get Cathy back, did it?”
“No.”
Healy dropped the shovel on purpose. When he knelt down to retrieve it, he removed his. 38 from the ankle holster and held it down by his side.
“You know I’m going to have to call the cops.”
“I know, Bob. It’s okay. I just want this to be over with. I want Cathy to know.”
Healy didn’t have the heart to tell the kid this was a long way from being over. The minute he called the cops, it would just be beginning.
“Does your father know?”
