“Dan, that wasn’t my fault.”
“But you shot them.”
“You should’ve heard what they were saying to me. I mean, come on, Dan, you would’ve done the same thing if you had some snotty little bitch calling you a filthy disgusting pervert. Telling you that she’d rather be fucked by a pig than by you. What did you want me to do, just walk away?”
“Gordon, she was tied up, helpless. Yes, you should’ve just walked away.”
“Look, I’ve been walking away from cunts like that my whole life. I wasn’t going to do it this time – not while I’m holding a gun. Fuck her, fuck both of them. Anyway, I couldn’t walk away, not when Joel’s fat little friend’s standing there laughing at me.”
“What about the other woman?”
“Same thing. She had the fucking nerve to tell me that she hoped I’d rot in hell for all eternity. I decided to give her something else to think about instead.”
Dan felt off-kilter. The person in front of him was Gordon, but it also wasn’t. There was a coldness to him, an emptiness. He seemed only a shell, a soulless version of the man Dan used to know. Nothing left in his eyes but bitterness and rage.
“Why’d you have to start talking to her?” Dan asked, a rush of anger choking his words. “You promised me. Jesus, Gordon, why’d you have to do that?”
“I was just goofing around, that’s all. Killing time, trying to be friendly. I didn’t see what the big deal was.”
“You didn’t see what the big deal was? We had so much at stake! What could you possibly have had to say that you thought she’d want to hear?”
“I was just telling her about Jersey and some interesting facts about Brazil, that’s all.”
“I got news for you, Gordon. Nobody cares about your interesting little factoids!”
“You don’t think I know that?”
“Then why, Gordon? Why did you have to jeopardize all of us over some mindless small talk?”
“Why?” His mouth closed while he thought it over. Then shrugging, he said, “I don’t know. What else was I going to talk to her about?”
“But why say anything?”
“Oh, come on, how many chances am I going to have to talk to a cute girl with a nice little ass like she had? And, Jeez, Dan, I’m holding a gun, I’m being polite, she should’ve just laid there and listened to me. Let me at least pretend that I had a chance of fucking the shit out of her – what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, it’s just until now I’ve never heard you swear before.”
“Yeah, well, I figure I’m dead, so what the fuck?”
“I don’t know, it doesn’t seem like you.”
“Well, it is, Dan, and… why do you keep looking away? Do you have someplace else you’d rather be?”
“I guess I’m tired.”
“How can you be tired? You’re asleep after all.”
“I know, but I’m beat. Why don’t we call it a night.”
“You’re kidding, right? I mean, Dan, I’m dead. This might be the last chance we ever have to talk and you’re going to blow me off?”
“Gordon, I’m sorry, man, but I’m really beat.”
“Forget it. Fine. If that’s the way you want to be. But at least answer my question. The one you keep avoiding. How are you going to get your cut from that weasel? Because you’re royally fucked if you don’t.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“No you won’t. And you really are fucked, Dan. You realize the police will be calling you soon. They’re going to want to know why the bank’s security system didn’t work.”
“I know.”
“Are you prepared for it?”
“I think so.”
“Are you prepared for what’s going to happen when they realize I was one of the robbers?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Right now the police believe you were an innocent victim. There’s no reason for that to change.”
“There are plenty of reasons, Dan, as you well know. If you had your cut, you could make a run for it. But as things stand, you’re nothing but a sitting duck. If they connect me to the robbery, you’ll be next. And then you’re sunk. You’ll lose everything – Carol, your kids, your life. And for nothing. Because Joel won’t even give you a dime.”
“Gordon, I’ve had enough.”
“What do you mean you’ve had enough? Come on, just one more thing and then you’ll never have to hear from me again-”
“No, I’m serious, I’m done.”
Gordon’s mouth slowly closed. He stood staring at Dan, his eyes vacant, distant. Then his lips puckered up in an exaggerated display of self pity. His voice bitter, he swore, “Fuck you, anyway. I’m out of here!”
With that Gordon was gone.
Dan felt relieved, but also an emptiness. At some level, he knew he was only dreaming, but at the same time there was something odd about it. Almost as if there was an order and logic to it, not the chaotic and out-of-control feeling that his dreams usually had. Maybe that really was Gordon – the pure essence of him, anyway. An overflowing of self-loathing, bitterness, and rage.
Whether or not the police ever connected him to the robbery, he knew he had already lost everything. He had lost Carol, lost his children, and lost his future. At least at some level. What happened in that bank was his fault. Even if nobody ever found out about it, how could things ever be the same?
He had risked everything of value in his life for nothing. Realizing that, the emptiness inside him expanded until he felt completely hollow inside. As if his chest could be crumpled like tinfoil.
Carol woke him. His chest ached, his face felt sticky and wet. He realized he had been sobbing.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said, choking back one last sob. “Nothing but a bad dream.”
20
Resnick had gotten to the station at six the next morning. There were still no leads on the dead man they had found. He went through the witness reports Stillwall and Hollings had made and then played both videotapes; the one showing the robbery and the other one of Raymond Lombardo taking his ski mask off. There was something about both tapes that bothered him. He figured out what it was about the Lombardo tape. It was an eye movement that Lombardo made, almost as if he were locating the surveillance camera before he stopped to take off his mask. Resnick played the tape back several times. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure about the eye movement, but that’s what it seemed like. Anyway, it made no sense. Why take the mask off there? There was something also about the robbery tape that bugged him, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. Kind of like a name on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t quite pull from your memory.
Shortly after eight o’clock, Hadley wandered in, spotted Resnick and chewed the fat with him for a few minutes, remarking several times how glad he was they’d been able to wrap up that nasty business from the other day so quickly. Resnick was no longer so sure of that, but he held his tongue. Hadley seemed, for him anyway, buoyant, almost a sparkle in his dull eyes, and Resnick didn’t see any reason to ruin that over a hunch. But his gut kept telling him that this was something other than what it looked like.
He was surprised there were still no leads concerning the dead man. That meant the guy was either from out of state or a loner with no family or friends. He checked the Lynn police logs, saw that there were no reports of abandoned vehicles and then got on the phone to neighboring police stations, asking the desk sergeants to call him back if they found any vehicles that had been abandoned recently. With some luck they’d track down the dead man’s car. If he had a car.
Maguire came in a little after nine carrying a bag of donuts and two cups of coffee, one of which he handed to Resnick when they headed out together for the FBI building in Boston.
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” Maguire confided. “I dunno. I wish I hadn’t seen that videotape.”
He didn’t look like he had slept much, his complexion grayish, the skin under his eyes swollen. Resnick didn’t bother saying anything. After all, what was there to say? That you get used to seeing young girls shot to death? It wasn’t true. Maybe you get hardened to it, maybe you get to the point where you don’t lose sleep over it, but how can you ever get used to something like that?