"No, no. That ain't it." He struggled for the right words. "What I'm saying is this. Right now you got your detective hat on, sniffing around like a bloodhound for clues, following this lead and that lead wherever it takes you. I'm telling you to stop for a minute. Stop and think."
"About what?"
"If you want to go looking into who killed your momma, that's your business. But you better prepare yourself to live with whatever you find out."
"Some frat boy filmed her getting raped, and she ended up a drug-addicted hooker who got her throat slit. How much worse can it get?"
"That's a really good question, Theo. All I'm saying is there's gonna be more to the story."
"You know something I should know?"
Cy didn't answer right away. Theo wasn't sure what to make of the silence. "This ain't no time to be keepin' secrets, old man."
"I just knew your momma better than anyone else did. So I can say this without no doubts in my mind: this ain't a story with a happy ending."
"I appreciate that."
He took a step closer, his expression very serious. "I don't think you do. Not entirely. And that's what really worries me."
Theo looked at him carefully, trying to discern his full meaning. His uncle looked right back at him, as if trying to convey something without words. Had Trina been there, she would have kicked both of them in the ass and screamed, "Just spit it out!" But she wasn't there, which left too few X chromosomes in the room for a meaningful conversation.
The old man walked away from the bar and went back to the kitchen to wrangle up a ride home.
JACK GAVE UNCLE CY A LIFT, and Theo stayed behind. There was more work to do on site, but the old man was tired and Jack still had to outline his opening statement for tomorrow's trial. They were sitting at a red light three blocks away when Cy realized his mistake.
"I don't have my house key."
"You sure?" said Jack.
"I didn't bring one. I rode over with Theo."
"Maybe I can get him to meet us at the town house."
Jack tried Theo on his cell, but there was no answer. "Probably having phone sex with Trina," he said, as he pulled a U-turn and headed back to the bar.
Cy tried peering through the windows as they cruised past the entrance, but the lights were out, and it was too dark to see inside. "Did he leave already?" said Cy.
Jack drove around to the alley. Theo's car was still parked next to the Dumpster.
"Maybe he's locking up," said Cy.
"Maybe," said Jack, but he didn't like the vibe he was getting. He flipped open his cell and speed-dialed Theo.
THEO'S CELL RANG FROM across the room, piercing the darkness. The phone was sitting on top of the bar – right where he'd left it, beside his car keys. Theo was crouched down low behind the U-shaped bar, and the phone was on the opposite leg of the U.
Theo didn't make a sound, didn't dare move from his hiding spot.
After Jack and Uncle Cy had gone home, the first noise Theo had heard was something that sounded like the delivery door opening. "Jack?" he'd called out, but he got no reply. Then he heard a series of quick clicks from the kitchen – the breakers – and circuit by circuit, the lights went out. Instinctively, he dove for cover.
His cell stopped ringing. Theo listened, his ears and inner radar on high alert. He wondered if someone was toying with him, just trying to scare him. Or had someone finally come to finish the drive-by-shooting job they'd botched in Overtown?
He needed to get to his phone. Slowly carefully he started crawling on hands and knees, moving along the outside of the bar.
His cell started ringing again – the second time in the past three minutes. Theo kept moving, knowing that the call would roll over to voice mail after six rings. But on the fourth ring, another sound sailed directly over his head – a piercing but muffled sound of a speeding projectile that silenced his phone and shattered it into pieces that flew across the room. Theo froze. His worst fears were realized.
Someone was toying with him
And they had come to finish the job.
"HELLO?" JACK SAID into his cell.
It struck him as odd that Theo s phone had cut off after four rings. One ring and then to voice mail meant that Theo's cell wasn't turned on. Six rings meant that the phone was on but Theo wasn't answering.
But four rings and no answer? Weird.
"Stay here," he told Cy. He climbed out of his car and stepped into the alley.
Part of him wanted to dial 911, but it seemed silly to call the cops because a six-foot-five ex-con didn't answer his cell after four rings. Each tentative step down the dimly lit alley, however, made the idea seem less silly.
Jack peeked inside Theo's parked car and tried the door handle. Empty and locked. He continued past the Dumpster, and a sudden movement sent his heart into his throat. A cat jumped down from a stack of crushed cardboard boxes. He gave his pulse a moment to return to mere triple digits – or so it felt – and then he tried the back door. He expected it to be locked, but it wasn't. It creaked open.
"Theo?" he said, calling inside.
There was no answer.
Jack reached around the door frame, found the light switch in the darkness, and flipped it to the on position.
Nothing.
Before Jack could even begin to process what it meant, he heard the quick footsteps, caught a glimpse of the blur in the blackness coming toward him, and absorbed the full impact of what hit him like a charging bull. Jack's feet left: the floor, the air fled his lungs, and he landed flat on his back in the open doorway. His arms flailed uselessly in a defensive reflex as the man who'd bowled him over stepped on his chest on the way out.
"He's got a gun!" Theo shouted.
Still disoriented, Jack struggled to roll for cover. Theo grabbed his arm and dragged him behind the open door. Jack tried to keep an eye on his attacker, but in the darkness the man was nothing more than a silhouette racing away from him, down the alley.
Then he heard an engine fire and tires squealing into the night.
"He took your car!" Theo shouted.
Jack's head was pounding, but suddenly he was thinking clearly again. "Your uncle came back with me. He's got Cy!"
Jack's cell rang. The caller ID said it was from Uncle Cy.
"Are you hurt?" said Jack.
"Don't call the cops," said Cy, his voice quaking. "And don't report your car stolen. He says he'll kill me if you do."
Jack could hear the fear in the old man's voice, and he wanted to say something reassuring. But the call disconnected, and Uncle Cy was gone.
Chapter 43
Theo didn't even stop to think. He knew what to do. He got in his car and drove.
Jack had wanted to call Andie. Theo said no. Jack wanted to call the police. Theo said hell no. Jack explained that the cops could run a ballistics test on the bullet that took out Theo's cell, which could be a link to the shooter's identity. Jack asked him to wait. Theo said, "Are you out of your fucking mind?" and bolted out the door.
Jack knew better than to try and follow him.
It was after 10:00 P.M., and Theo figured Lance Gilford would be home. A quick call to directory assistance gave him the address. He parked on the street, walked up the front steps, and pounded on the door.
There was no answer, but Gilford's car was in the driveway, the lights were on inside the house, and Theo could hear the late-night news on television. This time, he beat the door with both fists.
Theo heard footsteps in the foyer, and Gilford announced in a grumpy voice that he was coming. Theo could hardly wait. The deadbolt turned and the door opened as far as the taut brass security chain would allow.
"Who is-" Gilford started to say, but Theo didn't give him a moment to reconsider. With every bit of force he could muster, Theo laid his shoulder into the door. It practically exploded on impact, the chain ripping off a chunk of the wood frame as the door flew open. Gilford was knocked backward and fell to the ground. Theo slammed the door shut, grabbed Gilford with two hands, picked him up off the floor like a rag doll, and shoved him hard against the wall.