Page 111 of Blue-Eyed Jacks
Obviously, that’s where they all went.
Where everyone went except Kate’s tracker.
I tried not to think about the ramifications of that at all.The hi-viz lights on the back of the ambulance flicked on.They were so bright I could make out some details through the trees.About a hundred and fifty feet from the parking lot, the cops and other personnel clustered around a little picnic site.Slapped on top of the white gurney, the black sheen of a body bag took shape.It was almost invisible before but now glistened like snake skin in the floodlights.I turned my back for a moment, collecting my will.
I’d just hung up on Hickey and turned back to see what the police were doing when I noticed the sheriff’s team coordinating a search of the area.A team of two was heading directly for me.I’d stayed too fucking long.
As quickly and quietly as I could, I slipped through the trees and picked my way to the car.I drove away carefully, leaving the scene and my heart behind.At least a piece of it.
One body bag.Not another one in sight.
That meant Zoe was out there… somewhere.Or her tracker was.I needed to find that.If she was still alive, I’d make it work.Didn’t know how, or what kind of man I’d be, but I’d do my damndest to fix what broke tonight.
And that wasa vow.
Hickey’s promise to get me a location hit right before his cell signal faded again.I kept going on the most direct route I knew toward Pittsburgh, hoping and praying this wasn’t another wrong turn.By the time I hit the city, I was ready to jump out of my seat.
Practically everything was across a river, over a mountain, or no fucking kidding, through a damn tunnel.Claustrophobic wasn’t nearly a strong enough word for this wretched place.Knowing that Shock lived here and actually enjoyed this dirty, cramped-as-fuck town with hills so high, it felt like they were going to fall on you any minute; made me hate the place even more.
I know I wasn’t being fair to the folks who loved their city, but I only saw the cracks.The places to exploit, the poverty.The run-down factories, the too slick “old-town” charm that some politician used as a vanity project to get re-elected.I hated every damn thing I saw.I picked up his call while I crossed a bridge that headed toward the northern section of Pittsburgh.
“Has Zoe’s tracker moved?”
“Nope.They’ve been there at least thirty minutes.
Good?Or bad.A hell of a lot could happen in that span.
My mind turned to dark places.How a half second of inattention could earn you a pipe in the back of the head.How fast I could empty a full clip, reload, and empty a second.How similar cutting a throat was to gutting a fish.The same thrust, drag, catch on viscera, and the squelching noise as flesh split open.
I cleared my throat.Hickey tapped away at his keyboard.That meant he had something going on to keep him busy.I needed a distraction.“Whatcha working on?”
“Tracking Nonno.”
Color me surprised.“The fuck you say?”
“Don’t worry, he authorized it.”
I almost missed the turn, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.“Authorized what?”
“Well, once you and Shock lit out, he got suspicious.Then he was pissed off.Even more so when Tits showed up with a bunch of those bitches she hangs around with, and Kate wasn’t there to pick up.He said he’s going after Shock.”
“Really now?”
That wasallI fucking needed.The national mother-fucking president crawling down my ass.“I suppose you sent him Shock’s signal?”
There was too long of a pause on the other end.
“Hickey?Did I lose you?”
“Sorry, J.Yeah, he wanted Shock’s location.”He trailed off, almost constipated in his strangled tones.If I didn’t know him as well as I did, I might not have pushed for more, but I knew him.Trained him, raised him from a puppy-ass rice-rocket rider to full grown Destroyer.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“Shock’s signal is with Zoe’s.”
The hellit was.
I ended the call.For good measure, I turned off the goddamn phone.I was less than a mile from the address and despite it being a residential neighborhood, disregarded all sorts of traffic laws as I double-timed it to the address.
