Jack cut the connection and started back down the slope toward the river. From the look of the traffic, at least here in Jersey, Abe would probably make good time. Which meant Jack had to hurry.
He had some things that needed doing before he fled the scene, as it were.
9
-13:59
"I know you can't hear me, Joey, but I'm going to say this anyway." Jack had carried Joey's body from the car and laid it gently on the ground in an open area maybe twenty feet away. Nobody finding the car could miss Joey. Jack had straightened the body, positioning it perpendicular to the river, feet toward the water.
He felt a gnawing guilt about leaving a fellow combatant here like this, but what could he do?
He folded Joey's arms across his chest in the classic casket pose "Wish I could take you back with me. You know I would if I could, but it's not in the cards. So I'm leaving you here with as much dignity as I can. You always liked to look good, and this way you'll look good in the crime scene photos. Almost classy."
Except for the bloodstains, of course.
"I have to leave you here but you won't be alone for long. Don't worry about becoming a buffet for whatever animals are around. None of them will have a chance to get near you, let alone chew on you. I'll see to that."
He adjusted Joey's bloody jacket, straightened his pant legs so that the cuffs reached his ankles, then squatted next to him.
"You weren't a model citizen, Joey, but you were a good guy. The marks couldn't believe a word you said but you were always square with your friends. Brave too, risking everything to do right by your brother. You have my respect. If you hadn't been standing between me and the shooter, our places might be reversed right now."
An unbidden thought: And if you'd planned this better and been more careful searching the back rooms, we'd both be having a drink at Julio's right now. Jack pushed it away.
"I need just one thing from you."
He reached into Joey's jacket pocket and removed his butane lighter, then he rose to his feet.
"Someone will be coming for you soon."
He walked back to the Grand Am and picked up his coverall from where he'd dropped it. He used his knife to cut a three-foot strip from the leg, then tossed the rest into the car. He opened the gas tank door, unscrewed the cap, and snaked the cloth down as far as it would go. Then he pulled it out, reversed it, and snaked the other end inside. He left three or four inches of gas-soaked twill hanging from the port.
Firing the car would serve two purposes. First—destroy a lot of evidence. Jack hadn't taken his gloves off since he'd left his apartment, so he wasn't worried about prints. But trace evidence was tricky. Couldn't hurt to incinerate it.
The second was to bring the cops running so they could find Joey's body before any dogs got to it. No way Joey wouldn't be tied to the attack on the Center—Jack could already see the Post's MUSLIM MASSACRE!, headline—but this way his body would be returned to his family intact.
He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket: Abe.
"I'm at exit sixty-seven."
"How's the traffic?"
"I'm doing sixty-five."
"Okay. Bottom of the sixty off ramp."
"You should look for the usual vehicle."
That meant Abe's van.
"Will do. See you soon."
Jack grabbed his backpack, then pulled Joey's lighter from a pocket.
He flicked it and touched the flame to the free end of the coverall strip. As fire danced up its length and into the port, Jack trotted for the incline to the highway. He was about halfway up when the tank blew. He didn't look back. He reached the top and, keeping low, followed the guardrail toward the exit ramp.
10
-13:14
"Keep an eye on them for me?"
Abe shook his head. "I can't—I won't believe this is happening. A joke you're pulling, right? You should be honest with your old friend who's known you since you were a yungatsh and tell him that you've made all this up. Listen to that old friend tell you that if this should be a joke then it's a terrible one and he'll never speak to you again."
They sat in Abe's van where he'd double-parked outside Jack's place. After a couple of fitful, abortive attempts at their usual banter, talk had died. Jack found the silence awkward. He and Abe always had something to say to each other.
"No joke, Abe."
"Must be. Has to be. A world without Repairman Jack? Feh!"
How many years since Abe had given him that name? Jack didn't bother counting. Whatever the number, it wasn't enough.
"But you will look after my ladies while I'm gone, right?"
"While you're gone—that I like. It means you're coming back."
"Count on it."
"I will. I won't sit shiva then."
Although he didn't know where he'd be going, even if it was to an alternate reality, Jack had this unreasonable conviction that he'd be able to find his way home. Of course if the Lilitongue dumped him in outer space, that would be a different story: He'd be a flash-frozen fleshsicle in a heartbeat.
"As for watching over Gia and Vicky, I'll do what I can while you're away. But the type of woman who wants or needs watching over, Gia isn't."
"I know. She's a self-starter and self-sufficient, but she isn't quite as tough as she thinks or likes people to think. So look in on them for me, okay?"
"Of course. But who's going to look in on me? Who's going to tshepe me about my diet and my waistline while at the very same time bringing me Krispy Kremes? Who am I going to eat breakfast with? Who's going to worry about me…?"
Abe's voice trailed off.
Jack heard a sniff and turned toward him. The glow from a street lamp reflected off the moisture puddled on his lower eyelids.
"Abe?"
Nu, this is why you were always utzing me to worry about my heart? This is why you said I should take better care of it? Just so you could break it?"
The words choked off.
Jack felt his own throat constrict. This man had helped him become what he was. It tore Jack up to see Abe this way. He grabbed a pudgy hand and squeezed.
"I'll be back. I promise."
Abe shook his head and spoke, his voice thick. "So you say, but I have a feeling this is something even Repairman Jack can't fix."
Jack didn't admit that he had the same feeling.
Abe let out a shaky sigh.
"So, you want I should drop you off at Gia's?"
"Thanks, no. I've got a little something I have to take care of here first." He squeezed Abe's hand again. "See you soon. And work on that waistline while I'm gone."
"Who can eat?"
Feeling like he'd just cut off an arm, Jack grabbed his backpack and jumped out. He slammed the door and slapped the side panel. The truck lurched into motion. He watched it move off and disappear around a corner.
Jack turned and headed up the steps.
11
-13:06
The sound of the door roused Tom from semislumber. He'd been slumped before the TV, watching the end of the six o'clock news on some local channel and just beginning to nod off when a reporter broke in and started yammering about a bunch of Islamics blown away in New Jersey—as if anyone gave a damn.
Jack walked in with a backpack over one shoulder. He looked like Tom felt.
Tom rose and stepped into the front room.
"Hey, bro. Anything new on the Lilitongue front?"
Jack shook his head and stared at him. "I haven't been able to turn up a thing. As you can see…"
He undid a few buttons on his plaid shirt and spread the edges. Tom repressed a gasp when he saw how close the Stain's edges had grown.
"Oh, shit."
"How about you, bro? Jack said, putting an edge on the word as he redid the buttons. "Been pounding the pavement and scouring the Internet to see how you might undo this?"