“Arturo’s embarrassed,” he said. “He let you down. Of course he’s going to try to find excuses for his fuckup.”
“Have a seat,” Troy said.
There was something about Troy’s tone that irritated Sharkey. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d wanted to pull out his piece and just shoot the motherfucker, get this assignment over with. But he’d always managed to restrain himself. And knowing that they were very close to closing the deal made it a helluva lot easier.
So he sat in the most comfortable chair he could find and waited for the lecture.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“A man is only as good as the people around him,” Troy said. It was a sentiment he’d offered many times before, something he’d picked up from some corporate feel-good Web site no doubt, but Sharkey didn’t believe he meant a word of it. “And when I see breakdowns in efficiency like I saw today, it makes me wonder if we need a change.”
That didn’t sound good.
“If a trusted employee comes to me with concerns about someone’s loyalty, I think the best course of action to take is to confront the situation head-on.”
He was really starting to sound like a corporate executive now, but the greasy hair and cut-off sweats countered the effect.
“Confrontation’s always good,” Sharkey said.
“I’m glad you think so. Because it’s come to my attention that you may not be who you pretend to be.”
The Raisin Snail Sharkey had eaten earlier rolled over in his stomach. “Say what?”
“I’ve been told we have a traitor in our organization. Would you know anything about that?”
Sharkey felt panic coming on. This wasn’t part of the script and he hadn’t been expecting it. How could Troy possibly know about him?
All he could do was play along.
“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “Where are you getting your information?”
“Oh, from a very reliable source. A source that tells me that for the past couple of years, you’ve been funneling information about me and this organization straight to the Las Vegas Metro Police Department.”
Holy shit, Sharkey thought. How was this possible?
He tried to keep his cool. “If there’s a traitor in this organization, it sure as hell isn’t me.”
“There’s no point in denying it,” Troy said. “I have living proof.” He gestured. “Isn’t that right, Detective Billingsly?”
“I’m afraid so,” a voice said. Then to Sharkey’s utter surprise, Captain Brad Billingsly stepped out of the doorway to Troy’s game room.
Sharkey was too shocked for words, but Billingsly had no trouble filling in the gap.
“You see, O’Donnell, when I ferreted out our mole and I saw all the money in his bank account, I thought to myself, Why him and not me? I want my own private island, too.” He paused. “So I gave Mr. Troy here a call this morning and offered him an opportunity to clean house.”
“And that’s exactly what I’m doing,” Troy said. “The Ghost’s already taken care of our man in the LVMPD. Now he’s off to Ludlow to handle the loose ends.”
“As for you,” Billingsly told Sharkey. “It seems your assignment really has come to an end.”
And that was when Arturo came up behind the chair, brought his blade down, and slit Ed “Sharkey” O’Donnell’s throat.
“Vaya con Dios,” he said quietly.
2 9
They took Evan to the emergency room at Ludlow County General.
Though conscious after the collapse, he was dehydrated and only semi-coherent, and they all agreed it would be best to put him under observation. Ronnie, who worked at the hospital as a staff nurse, called in to get the boy bumped to the head of the line.
They drove in silence, suffering from a collective shell shock, unable or unwilling to talk about what they’d witnessed.
Anna relished the quiet.
When they arrived at the hospital, she decided to stay in the Suburban as Pope scooped Evan into his arms, then carried him in through the automatic doors, Worthington and Ronnie moving alongside them.
She had a feeling this probably wasn’t the first time they’d lived this particular scenario.
As they disappeared into the emergency room, Evan made eye contact and gave Anna a small, weak wave, breaking her heart into a thousand different pieces.
She was reminded of a moment shortly before college, when her cat, Zed, was diagnosed with a kidney ailment. She’d taken him to the veterinary clinic to be put to sleep, and the last she saw of him was when he turned to look at her with those big sad eyes as the nurse carried him away.
There was no reason to compare the two, but Anna couldn’t help herself. She had a sudden, vague sense that she might not be seeing Evan again, and she wasn’t sure why. His condition was not life-threatening. Bringing him here was only a precaution.
Yet the feeling persisted. Resonated.
You’re tired, she told herself. That’s all. Tired and weak.
Pope had suggested she see the doctor as well, but she’d refused.
“I’ll be fine,” she’d said, although “fine” was a relative term, wasn’t it?
The real reason she’d wanted to wait in the car was because she needed to be alone. To think. To wrap her head around what had happened.
There was no doubt now that Pope had been right. Jillian Carpenter was very much a part of her past, and the details of that past no longer came to her in fleeting images. The last moments of Jillian’s life were now a vivid part of Anna’s consciousness.
She remembered everything.
The terror. The loss of power. The pain.
And amidst it all was the sound of her mother’s voice. Calling to her. Singing that sad, familiar song.
To finally come out of her trance and find Evan beside her, holding her hand, had been a shock, to say the least. But she had felt the connection. Knew that her mother had somehow used this boy as a vessel to contact her. To help her. And without that help, without her mother’s call, Anna was certain she would have died right there along with Jillian Carpenter. Just as she would have died on that football field if Evan hadn’t warned Pope.
All of which meant only one thing to Anna. And that one thing-despite all the blood and the horror she’d seen of late, despite being so drained of energy that she could barely move-filled her with an almost indescribable feeling of joy. Of hope.
Her mother was watching over her.
Worthington was the first to return.
“Ronnie’s beside herself,” he sighed, as he climbed behind the wheel. “Thinks this is all her fault.”
“ Her fault? Why?”
“She thinks she should have kept better watch over Evan. She got up to use the bathroom, and when she came back he was gone. Says if she hadn’t left…”
“I might be dead,” Anna said. “And she had no more control over what happened than Evan did.”
Worthington nodded. “That’s what I told her, but she’s a sensitive woman. Seeing this kid go through so much is tough for her. Stirs up a lot of bad memories.”
“I can imagine.”
“Truth is, she still blames herself for what happened to Ben.”
Anna was surprised. “Why?”
