I’ve committed, you for the knowledge of them. That’s at least three years in prison, Whit. You already turned your back on law and order, baby.’
He sat down on the couch, put his face in his hands.
‘Whit? What are you going to do?’ she asked quietly.
His cell phone buzzed. He answered it, praying it was Gooch. ‘Hello?’
‘Whit? It’s Claudia.’
‘Hey,’ he said, his stomach sinking at the sound of her voice.
‘Thank God,’ she said. ‘You’re okay?’
‘Sure,’ he said.
‘I’m in Houston. Did you know about Harry Chyme?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It was on the news. I’m so sorry, Claudia.’
‘Had Harry found your mom, Whit? Tell me.’ A crackle marred Claudia’s voice on the line. ‘Whit? Did you hear me?’
‘No, he hadn’t found her,’ Whit said. Seeing how the lie tasted in his mouth. ‘I talked with him briefly, he said he thought Eve Michaels was in Houston, but I didn’t hear anything more from him.’
‘Are you still in Houston?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Where? I want to see you. Now.’
‘This is a bad time, Claudia. Really. I can’t talk right now.’
‘I’m staying at a Hampton Inn near the Galleria. I came to Houston to find you, find out what happened to Harry. And you are going to tell me what the hell’s going on. When I heard Harry was found dead with a man, and you had gone to Houston… I’ve been scared to death. I’ve left you messages, why haven’t you called?’
‘I’m sorry, Claudia. I’m sorry. Go back to Port Leo, okay? I’m okay and I’ll talk with you later.’
‘Whit, for God’s sakes, this is me!’
‘You’re one of my best friends, Claudia, and I love you and I don’t want you involved in this. I’m sorry. Go home.’ And he clicked off the phone.
‘Girlfriend?’ Eve asked.
‘No. Good friend.’
‘I didn’t even ask if you were married. Or had been.’
‘I haven’t been. But I won’t be bringing a girl home to meet you.’
‘You shouldn’t. I would probably scare a nice girl.’
He said nothing.
Eve sat next to him on the couch. ‘They will torture Gooch if they have to, Whit. They’ll blow the fingers off his hand one by one. Cut off his balls. Cut him so he bleeds to death an inch at a time. Strangle him until he’s nearly dead then give him the gift of breath back. Then strangle him. Again and again, till he’s begging to die. He’ll tell them where we are. We’ve got to find a new place to hide.’
They’ll never break Gooch,’ Whit said. ‘If he’s dead and beyond our help, we’re too late. If he’s not, he’ll never turn on us.’
‘Whit. He’s an incredible person. I can tell that. But these people will break him.’
‘Tell me. Have you seen them hurt people before?’
‘Yes,’ she said after a moment.
‘And did nothing.’
‘Stop judging me, Whitman.’ Her voice was as low as a whisper.
‘If I were judging you, I would be walking out the door. I would never have even tried to find you. Because I did, Harry is dead. Gooch may be dead. I don’t blame you. I blame me.’
‘Whit…’ Her voice softened.
‘My choices,’ he said. ‘So I got to fix it. I’m calling the cops. But you, take Gooch’s van and go. You’re good at hiding, they’ll never find you. You leave. I’ll stay to get Gooch.’
‘Absolutely not. I’m not leaving you to face this alone.’
‘You have to, because if I call the cops you’ll be arrested.’
She put her face in her hands, shook her head.
‘And I lose you all over again,’ Whit said. ‘But I can’t let them hurt Gooch.’
She looked up at him. ‘What if there’s another option?’
He got up, walked to the window, let the drape drop down. ‘I don’t know how to beat these people.’
She followed him to the window. Slowly, awkwardly, she hugged him. His arms tensed under hers. She rested her head against his chest and he let his breath loose.
‘I don’t have a right to hug you, son,’ she said. ‘But pretend I do, okay?’
He stood there in the fading light, his mother holding him and his heart fractured along a thousand fissure lines, a thousand hurts, a thousand wishes. The house was quiet and he listened to the hush of her breath. Slowly he hugged her back.
‘I’ll make it all right, son,’ she said.
Her cell phone, tucked in her purse, rang. She broke the hug and went to the purse, dug it out, clicked it on. ‘Yes?’
She listened for a moment, then handed Whit the phone. ‘Bucks. He wants to speak to you.’
‘Hello?’
‘Your friend is made of stern stuff,’ Bucks said. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘Is he alive?’
‘For now.’
‘Prove it to me.’
‘He’s unconscious. Not in good shape.’
‘How do I know you have him?’
‘Hmmm,’ Bucks said. ‘His name is Gooch but his ID says Jim O’Connor.’
Whit closed his eyes ‘I assume you’re not just calling to gloat.’
‘Of course not. I’m calling to discuss Gooch’s future.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘I’ll guarantee Gooch’s safety. You give me half of the five million. You keep the other half.’
‘We don’t have the money,’ Whit said.
‘I think it would hurt poor Gooch’s feelings to know you don’t value his life.’
‘I do. But we don’t have the money,’ Whit said again, but then thinking: maybe Gooch told them we do to keep them from killing him, so play along to buy time, dumbass. But if Bucks has the money, this is nothing but a trap.
He had to choose. Now.
‘There are people hunting you right now, asshole. People who make me look like an Eagle Scout, okay? This is really your best option. And I’ve got a 9-millimeter aimed right between Gooch’s eyes at the moment. He’s asleep and he’ll never know what hit him. I suppose that’s a mercy. Oh, wait, I feel a hand spasm coming on-’
‘Okay,’ Whit said. ‘Okay. I’ll deal.’ Eve stared at him, shook her head.
‘You have until tomorrow at six p.m.,’ Bucks said. I’ll call you back with details. Call the police, the Feds, your friend dies. In a fashion that won’t be pleasant. And then we’ll come after you and Eve anyway.’
‘Since we’re negotiating,’ Whit said. ‘There’s a little matter of way cool data we have. Computer records about Paul Bellini’s accounts. The paper trail that leads to fat federal indictments. Release Gooch. Tell Paul to cancel the hit on Eve. Right away.’
There was silence for a moment, then a soft laugh. ‘I admire the ballsitude, man. Truly. You’re a focused individual. But I know what was on that computer, and it was crap that doesn’t matter. That laptop’s got nothing. You think I wouldn’t check her files as soon as Eve went running? Whatever you got, it’s nothing to me. Six o’clock tomorrow, man. I’ll call you back with details.’ He hung up.
‘Jesus,’ Whit said. ‘Is he a moron?’ He told Eve what had been said.
‘Bucks has the money,’ she said. ‘It’s a trap.’
‘I don’t think he does.’ But then Whit stopped, thought it through. ‘Unless Paul was listening in on that call and it’s all for show. And Bucks knows we’ll say we have the money just to save Gooch.’
