“Listen up,” Ray said. “We’re brothers, okay, that’s solid. You know I have your back.”
“Never once crossed my mind to ask.”
“But I know you,” Ray said. He reached and pressed a finger to Tony’s forehead. “I know exactly what you’re sitting there thinking in that stitched-up head.”
Tony could feel Salcedo’s finger on his forehead even after Ray took his hand away. He didn’t like it.
He said, “What am I thinking?”
“You’re thinking there’s no fucking way,” Ray said. “No fucking way you’re gonna let this guy Worth get over on you.”
“Us,” Tony corrected. “Right, partner? I’m thinking there’s no fucking way we’re going to let this guy get over on us.”
“Us didn’t put a bee in that kid for no reason. Us doesn’t have an uncle with the back of his head blown out.”
Tony arranged himself in the seat. “Spit it out, man. I’m listening. Say what you need to say.”
“This was a simple shakedown,” Ray said. “Nice payday, no complications. Right?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Tony thought about it. “Shakedown makes it sound like we’re the bad guys.”
“Call it what you want, it’s not simple anymore,” Ray said. “Everything’s red hot now. It’s going to be hot for a while.”
“And that’s my fault?”
“Not saying that,” Ray said. “I’m saying we need to start taking the long view.”
He’d lost his nerve. All the years they’d rolled, Tony never thought he’d see it happen. But here it was: Ray Salcedo, folding. This, on top of everything else.
“Aside from all that, man? You’ve got family down,” his partner said. Just making it worse now. “Maybe that’s enough for one day.”
Tony let what seemed like an appropriate amount of silence go by.
Then he said, “You’re worried I’m going to make this personal.”
“Man, you were making this shit personal already.” Ray pointed. “Ever since you got your bell rung the other night. But now it’s blood personal.” He softened his voice. “That’s why it’s time to step back.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
Ray looked him in the eyes. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Say what?”
“That you get it. That we’re on the same page with this thing.”
“I get it,” Tony said. “We’re on the same page with this thing.”
Ray watched him a long time.
“Okay,” he finally said.
Tony nodded. “Okay.”
They rolled on.
29
The day warmed slowly as the sun rose, an amber coin in a turquoise sky.
Vince got back from the landfill around half past noon. In the time he’d been gone, the road back up into the bluffs had turned to sloppy, slushy mush. He followed a set of fresh tire tracks all the way back to Junk Monkey, feeling a little more hopeful with every mile.
Turning into the driveway, his spirits sank.
He’d been hoping those tracks meant Rita had come home. Instead, he met the county sheriff coming down the hill.
The sheriff raised a hand, and they pulled alongside each other. Vince ran his window down. The sheriff lowered his own.
“Morning,” Vince said.
Sheriff Myron Poole lifted his chin. “Morning there, Vince. Guess my timing wasn’t as bad as I thought.”
“What’s the news?”
“Got a minute?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll turn around,” Poole said.
All the way up to the house, Vince tracked the sheriff’s Bronco in the rearview. He could hear his blood beating in his ears. It was the first time in years he’d felt it: that clench that came with the law on your tail. It came back too easy.
Pull your head out of your ass.
This wasn’t anything to worry about. They needed him to get out on the rig somewhere, that was all. Vince parked out front and got out of the truck, waited for the sheriff to pull in behind.
Poole climbed out of the Bronco and slammed the door. He strolled over, the cuffs of his pant legs tucked into the tops of rubber four-buckle overshoes.
“Warming up,” Vince said.
“Sure is.” Poole nodded toward the column of brown exhaust rising up from the incinerator shed in the distance, where Vince had been burning garbage, compost, and roadkill for most of the past two days. “Trash day, huh?”
“Yep. Just got back from the dump.”
“Yeah, that’s what Rita said. I caught her leaving. Helped her load up her suitcases.”
Vince felt a tingle in his gut. She couldn’t have timed it better if she’d been watching from a hill with binoculars.
Sunday night, after he’d showed her the money, sat down to tell her everything he’d done and everything he knew, she was dressed and gone before he’d even finished talking.
He knew she’d have to come back at some point, even if it was just for a change of clothes. He’d left her a note on the kitchen table, just in case she came back while he was gone: Back in an hour. Wait for me, babe. Don’t go.
Sure enough, she’d been here. But she hadn’t waited. He hadn’t seen her anywhere on the road.
“Come on in,” he said.
“Nah,” Sheriff Poole said. “Thanks, I can’t stay long.”
Poole stood a couple inches shorter than Vince, about half as wide. He had a razor-burn complexion and a watchful air. They were about the same age, though the sheriff had three grown daughters. Vince had pulled one of the daughters and her half-rolled Sunfire out of a drainage ditch a few years back. He’d been picking up side work towing for the county ever since.
“Everything okay, Sheriff?”
Poole nodded his head. “I guess there’s a little something we ought to talk about.”
Vince shoved his hands in the pockets of his coveralls. It was fifty degrees out by now, and he needed to take off about three layers of clothes. Water gurgled in the eaves troughs; way out in the trees, it sounded like rain.
“Got a call this morning from your old neck of the woods,” Myron Poole said. “A Captain Torres with the Omaha Police. This was a couple hours ago, I guess.”
Vince felt something fold up in his chest. They didn’t need him out on the rig. He’d known that. He’d known it the minute he saw Poole’s car.
“Fuck.”
Sheriff Poole gave him a curious look.
Vince said, “What happened?”
“How do you mean?”
“Matty.” Vince had been waiting for something like this. Now he didn’t want to hear. “What happened?”
“Oh,” Poole said, waving his hand. He looked apologetic, maybe even slightly relieved. “Shoot, Vince, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Your brother’s just fine, at least as far as I know. Sorry for the scare.”
“Jesus.” Vince let out a long breath. Keep your shit together. “Yeah, okay.”
“Call I got was about you.” Poole folded his arms and dipped his head. He might have been thinking, or counting the driveway rocks poking up through the slush. “I guess I probably shouldn’t be out here. I’ll just tell you I debated awhile.” He nodded to himself. “But the fact is, I’ve always known you to be real reliable, Vince, and I know you do fair business with folks. And I don’t know anybody around who doesn’t think pretty high of Rita. So I decided I’d rather come on out and have a chat before anything else.”
When Poole looked up, Vince studied his eyes. He couldn’t read much. He said, “What are we chatting about?”
“Seems like Omaha PD wants me to put in some paper with the county attorney,” Poole said. “Search warrant for your grounds here.”
“Search warrant? What the hell for?”
“Don’t know all the details yet.” Poole was lying about that. Vince could tell that much. “But PD seems to think they’ve got cause to have a look for some stolen property out here.”