He washed in the cold water and dried off as best he could and then put on the ill-fitting clothes- really baggy pants and a shirt that was too tight, and still carrying his jacket he left the park by a different route than he came in.
Life seemed different now; there was no doubt that the police would still be looking for him, but without the blood soaked clothes and the murder weapon like an albatross around his neck, he felt freerer than he had in a long time. Was this the effect of the adrenaline wearing off?
As he walked the streets, glad to be at least out of the alleys, Carson saw a payphone that looked like it was in working order- a rarity in this day and age. He lifted the receiver and there was a dial tone. Depositing some coins into the slot, he contemplated who to call and settled on Giggsy as the last coin dropped. He dialled the number, proud of himself for still being able to remember people's phone numbers with all the smartphone use the last few years. It rang for what seemed like an age to him and Carson was just about to put the phone down when it was answered.
“Yeah?” the languid voice of Giggsy came on the line.
“Giggsy, it’s me,” he said urgently though at the same time whispering and holding his hand over his mouth as though he feared being lip-read.
“Who?” the lazy reply came back, no sense of urgency at all at the other end of the phone.
“It’s me,” he said again, “Carson.” This woke Giggsy up,
“Oh shit, Carson, you are in deep shit!” he said.
“I know, I know,” Carson said but then caught himself, it had only been a few hours since he fled the back door of ‘Vito’s’ how would Giggsy know about that already? Was his name all over the news? Was there a huge manhunt about to start up? “Wait, what do you mean I’m in deep shit?” he asked.
“Jeff Suchet is dead,” Gisggsy said and the police went to the Castino's about it.”
“Why?” This didn’t make sense to Carson at all. He’d been the one who assaulted Jeff earlier in the day, not one of the Family’s usual; goons.
“They heard about a debt collection that went bad today and are asking the family about it. They know it was you who beat the shit out of Jeff and made sure everyone knew about it and the connection to them. They’re seriously pissed at you right now!” Now it made sense, but it also made things much worse.
“They looking for me?” he asked, hoping against hope for an answer he knew he wasn’t going to get.
“Of course,” Gigsy said like it was nothing. “If you’re still in town, get out now and never come back is my advice.” He was right of course; the police might take him in, stitch him up for the murder and have him sent to jail for the rest of his life, but the Castino's would not be so good to him. It would be a long slow torture from them followed by a gruesome death, something to send a message to any other fool who tried to act on their behalf or brought the cops to their door. Things were a million times worse for Carson now, and once more the idea of going to the police and fighting for his innocence was becoming appealing.
Chapter 5
SARAH WAS SITTING AT her desk at the FBI Academy near Quantico the morning after being at the scene of the latest farmyard killing. She was looking over the crime scene photographs and comparing them to the other two previous murders. It was the random objects that were taking in her focus. She was looking for a pattern in the way they had been placed on the floor, or some commonality between objects at different sites. She spoke the objects' names aloud, hoping to perhaps hear something in the words that might spark something, but on and on she went and still all she could see were random things tossed across a dusty farmhouse floor.
Leaning back in her chair and rubbing her eyes from the computer screen strain, Sarah noticed there was a letter on the in-tray on Malick’s desk. There hadn’t been anything there for many months and it pleased her to see this. It was the clearest indication yet that he was really coming back this week. She would be delighted to have him back in her corner.
“Brightwater!” the booming voice of Special Agent in Charge Bobrick shouted from his glassed office. Sarah sighed and got to her feet. Since being denied work on the case she really wanted, there hadn’t been much excitement in her when summoned to Bobrick’s office. He wasn’t going to give her her case and that was the only thing she wanted from him. Still, he could surprise her yet.
“Yes, Sir,” Sarah said, standing in the doorway. Bobrick looked up from some papers and nodded to the chair in front of his desk before looking back to the papers and cribbing his signature on it.
“Get rid of the sad sack attitude,” he said as Sarah sat down. “You’re doing good work.” Reprimand and reward, she thought, and then ‘Good work on what? Nothing’s been solved for months. No leads on the current case either.’
“Sir?” she didn’t mean it to come out as a question but it did. Bobrick looked at her and she saw vexation cloud his eyes.
“I’ve got a new case for you,” he said, scanning his desk a moment before taking up a file and tossing it into her lap.
“I’m still working on the farmer murders,” she said- something that sounded so strange to her each time; she wished the newspapers or Tyler would come up with a better name she could use.
“Now you’re on this too,” he said toneless. “Anyway, it’s not the
