John was trying to regroup. "Did Gant tell you about 'dead time'? About living with knowledge that others want buried? Always being afraid that someone is going to show up in the middle of the night and kill you and everyone you love if something changes? Or if someone gets a bug up their ass and just decided to tie up a few loose ends?
“When Gant told me he was dying, I knew I had to get out of sight. I'd tried to make a new life but I always knew it was hanging by a thread and his phone call brought everything crashing down around me. Hell, I knew Nero didn’t give a damn about me. It was Gant that kept the peace. Gant and his brother. Jack. Without Gant, I was nothing. I've been trying to close everything out."
She wondered how the brother fit in, but she didn’t ask that right now. “Why did you stay here?”
John shrugged. "I guess there was a part of me hoping you would show up from Gant and have the videotape and maybe we could deal with Nero and get things back like they were."
"So you decided to take all your money and leave your wife dangling without a clue?" Neeley asked.
John lowered his eyes. "I had to. I had to convince whoever came from the Cellar — if they got here first — that Hannah knew nothing. That she was out of it."
"Do you think the Cellar and Nero will buy off on that?" Neeley asked. Gant had never mentioned Nero. She already knew more now in five minutes with Masterson than she had in a decade with Gant. The cowering man in front of her was right about one very important thing — Gant had to have been the one holding things in balance.
"Not really, but it's her best chance," John said. "That is until you showed up here," he added. "Like I said, maybe we can make a deal now with Nero and reestablish the status quo."
Neeley shrugged. "Maybe." She wanted to know what was in the briefcase and more about this videotape Gant had supposedly left her. The only thing she could think of was Gant's second request: that she climb the route in Eldorado Canyon. She waved the gun. "Let's go back to your house and talk this over with Hannah."
"Hannah's out of it," John said.
"Jesus Christ!" Neeley exclaimed. "She's your wife. That means she's involved. She has the right to know what is going on and to make her own decisions." The muzzle of the weapon allowed for no argument. John reluctantly stood and picked up the briefcase.
Howard Brumley couldn't sleep. It was 1:30 in the morning and not only was he wide awake, but he had enough adrenaline going to finish an Ironman competition. It had been hours since the gun was pressed to his head but it seemed like fifteen seconds.
Lying in the dark next to his gently snoring wife, he kept lifting his hand to his head and feeling the spot. There was a bruise on his temple that was already darkening. He'd had to tell Celia that he hit a door. She didn't believe him but she also didn't seem to care.
He noticed a drip in the master bath and fought to ignore it. He wrapped his pillow around his head, praying that sleep would end this terrible day.
Howard took shallow breaths hoping to lessen his anxiety because if he wasn't going to sleep a wink at least he could be spared the racing heart. He kept replaying it in his head and it always played out the same way. He was stupid man. Always letting Celia buy whatever the hell she wanted and the boys, too. Just to keep some peace, because he didn't want the endless confrontations. That was a laugh. He almost got killed today because he needed the money John Masterson had offered. That was a whole new level to confrontation. What the hell had John done to him? And who the hell had left the envelope and card about Jenkins? But what was he supposed to do with a thousand in cash? Keep it and not do what the card said? There was no way to return it. Damn. And what was the big deal with Hannah going to see her shrink. Hell, she’d looked like she needed it. Howard felt a headache growing in concert with the throbbing in his temple.
John must have heard he was having some trouble because the son-of-a-bitch hadn’t minced any words when he made his offer nine days ago. He just needed some help covering his tracks and the legal work that went with skipping out on his life. He had assured Howard that Hannah had plenty of money in her own name from some family trust. But it hadn't seemed that way when Hannah stood in his office.
Howard was beginning to believe that his friend John had told him a pack of lies. It made him feel better to think that since he had given John up so easily. He was willing to break some ethical laws, even a few civil ones, but by God, he'd never have gotten mixed up in this mess if he'd had any idea that it involved guns. What exactly had John gotten him into?
Howard looked at the glowing numbers on the clock: 1:45. The night was never going to end. He continued staring at the ceiling and resenting the hell out of Celia for forcing him into this even though she didn't know a thing about it. He could hear the damn drip in the master bathroom and it irritated him even more.
Finally, he slid back the covers and walked confidently through the dark room. At his age a man knew well the trip from his bed to the bathroom. As he stepped across the tiled expanse to the sink faucet he felt rather than saw the presence.
Before his sensory system had time for any reaction he felt two awful and rapid movements. A hand wearing a rubber glove covered his mouth and the cold feel of steel once again pressed to the side of his neck. The whisper was deadly: "Where's John Masterson?"
Howard started to talk through the hand. Two fingers slid apart to give him working room. In the few seconds it took to give John up for the second time in less than twelve hours, Howard deduced something very important. The steel wasn't the barrel of a gun, it was the edge of a knife. When it suddenly moved across the front of his neck he was surprised that there was no pain. The hand was firmly pressed against his mouth as he felt an explosion of warm liquid on his chest. The dark went black.
Racine quietly dropped the lawyer's body onto the big bathroom rug. He reached over and pushed the faucet knob completely shut, stopping the drip. He stood still, not even his breathing audible until he was sure no one in the house was moving. He could feel the gentle blow of air from a vent across his naked body.
He slid his feet slowly across the tile and peered in the bedroom. He could see the sleeping form in the bed. He wondered what she looked like. Racine stood there for several minutes, taking shallow breaths. Finally he reluctantly turned back into the bathroom. He moved toward the big window over the Jacuzzi.
Once through he grabbed the bag under the window and slipped behind the bushes to the side of the house. He loved these big new houses. Security systems that were junk, windows big enough to push an elephant's butt through and, of course, all the wonderful landscaping. Racine could have slaughtered an army next to the house and no one from the street would have been the wiser.
He pulled a small garbage bag from the rucksack leaning against the side of the house and deposited his latex gloves and the plastic wrap from his feet. It was all he had been wearing. He ran his hands over his smooth naked body and felt no sticky wetness. The lawyer had sprayed forward. He had given up so quickly that there had not been the struggle and messiness Racine had anticipated.
Racine's body was completely hairless and he knew he had left no trace of himself behind. He had shaved his entire body just two hours ago. He quickly dressed and put everything back in the bag. He still wasn't breathing hard as he bent and tied his sneakers. They were two sizes too large and clumsy, but he was careful as he retraced his steps to the street. Once there, he calmly walked the block and a half to his car.
He left the headlights off until he reached the first light. It was blinking yellow at this hour. He drove another five minutes and pulled the car over. He changed his shoes, then reached over the seat and retrieved the St. Louis Yellow Pages and the map. Within a few minutes he knew where he was going and how to get there.