“What did she say to that?”
“She said she couldn’t wait to get the money. She couldn’t wait to be with me. We’re in love. Gus-”
“Yeah, I know, Gus is a piece of shit. When was the last time you spoke to her?”
“Around then, when he showed up with you in the van.”
“When are you supposed to contact her again?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
Chase hit REDIAL and the phone rang once and immediately went to voice mail. Marisa Iverson’s voice came on the line and said, “You’re too late. I know who you are now. Sorry about the wife. See you on the road.”
Chase disconnected and said, “Shit. It could be too late already. They might’ve scored the merchant this afternoon. Put on the television.”
Jonah switched on the set, and it was all over the news. The diamond merchant had been robbed for a second time in less than two weeks. The manager was dead, shot right before the thieves left. James Lefferts’s nose was swaddled in bandages but he seemed comfortable in front of the cameras this time.
Lila’s photo appeared behind the cute newscaster and they brought the whole thing up again.
“They’re out,” Chase said. “All of this was a diversion.”
“You’re the one who gave her the edge,” Jonah said. “She was a step ahead. I’d like to meet this woman.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Chase told him.
They had Marisa Iverson’s face but they didn’t really have
Timmy Rosso stared at the TV but still didn’t make any connection. He said, “Look, I don’t want the money anymore. I just want to leave. Me and Mary, we’ll go, right now, tonight. You’ll never see either of us again.”
Jonah walked over to Rosso and tugged the blade out of his leg. A small spurt of blood came along with it, a dollop arcing onto the carpet, just missing the cats. The kid screamed and this time Jonah let him. Rosso fell out of the chair and gripped his leg, thrashing.
The old man started to raise his.38 and Chase gripped his wrist.
Jonah was still incredibly strong. Chase could only keep hold of him because Jonah allowed it. His grandfather stared hard into his eyes and said quietly, “We have to kill him.”
“No.”
“He was watching us.”
“He was watching me. And so what? He’s got nothing.”
“He can describe me to the cops.”
“And tell them what? That he was keeping my house under surveillance while he sat here with two dead bodies wrapped up in garbage bags? Nothing he could say to them will make any sense at all.”
“It’s still trouble we don’t need.”
“He was a sucker. He doesn’t have to die for that.”
“That’s how everybody dies.”
There was nothing else to say to that. Either the old man would make his move and Chase would be able to stop him, or he wouldn’t. If nothing else, his grandfather broke the complicated world down into a much simpler form. Every moment brought you right up to the edge. You could either win against him and live, or lose and die. Sometimes it was nice not having so many options to choose from.
Jonah watched Rosso another minute and finally turned away. “All right, but let’s wipe this place and leave now, before he stirs any more shit.”
Chase had planned on it anyway. He’d touched the back door, the cat food, the water bowl, what else? He looked around, seeing the photos again, thinking of Freddy staring at him in the garage, wondering how in the hell anyone could kill an old lady and a retarded man who never stopped smiling.
Had he touched the kitchen table? Had he brushed against the garbage bags? He couldn’t take any chances, he had to clean it all. The cats looked at him. He took a step toward the kitchen and caught a blur of motion from the corner of his eye.
Rosso said, “Oh God, no-” as Jonah took hold of the kid’s hair and eased his head back to expose the throat.
Chase moved and opened his mouth but nothing came out except Walcroft’s noise.
Fast, his hands always so fast, but now, for some reason, he was far too slow as he reached out and Jonah jabbed the guy called Timmy Rosso once under the left ear, severing the carotid.
Then the old man cleaned the blade on the dying kid’s pant leg, two smooth strokes back and forth as Rosso’s face contorted into a look of profound amazement, and his hand started to come up, reaching with some urgency for Jonah’s hand the way a helpless grandson might reach for him across a short distance of enduring darkness.
Part V
1
Lila, he thought, I’m seriously fucking up here.
He leaned back against the dining-room table.
They couldn’t go to the motel now. There was still a chance the crew might make a try for him. They should take the loot and pull a fade, but maybe he’d made it personal enough for them to come take a poke. He hoped so.
He thought maybe the driver would show up at around midnight, gunning his engine in the driveway, flashing his high beams, and they could finish this thing the right way. Race against each other out in the streets, see who could stay on the road the longest. It was the only real shot he had left.
Which meant he had no shot at all. His mind was wandering again. The rage squeezed up and tried to take him over. He crossed his arms and tightened his hold on himself. He had no cool right now. He had no cold.
He’d played his hand poorly. He’d waited too long. He’d focused on the wrong things. The woman never should’ve been let go. He’d burned the bridge.
A stakeout at the merchant’s would’ve been dangerous but it might’ve worked. If the cops hadn’t spotted him. If the crew hadn’t spotted him.
He hadn’t thought it through clearly enough. He’d brought Jonah in too late. He shouldn’t have brought him in
