Rob took half a step back. Now what?
The man flashed an ID in Rob’s direction.
“Special Agent Reynolds, FBI,” he said. The ID disappeared back inside the suit. “Steeves sent me to pick you up. He needs to talk to you.”
Reynolds opened the back door of the Buick and stood holding it expectantly.
“You tell Steeves I’ve heard enough from him for one day,” Rob said.
He started to walk past but the agent moved in front of him.
“There’s been a break in your case,” Reynolds said, “some new information that looks like it will clear you. Steeves needs to talk with you right away to confirm it.”
The breath caught in Rob’s throat. His pulse started to race. Could this really be true?
“Clear me?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Why didn’t he just call me?”
“There’s something he needs to show you, so he sent me to pick you up.”
Rob’s head swam. What could they possibly have found?
“At least let me run inside to throw on a dry shirt and grab my phone.”
“There’s no time,” Reynolds said. He gestured impatiently toward the back seat. “Hop in.”
Rob hesitated one last time but the chance to escape his nightmare was irresistible. He climbed in.
Reynolds slammed Rob’s door, got in the front seat and drove away quickly. Rob felt a stab of unease when he noticed the door handles and lock buttons were missing in the back seat. But wasn’t that standard practice in all police vehicles?
Tim dropped the newly purchased pastrami on the kitchen counter and looked at his father in mock amazement. Eldon sat at the kitchen table slurping tomato soup. Red drips from the lid had fallen on the counter next to the empty can. The lid still hung from the magnet on the electric can opener.
“Will you look at that,” Tim said. “Next thing you know you’ll be off to chef school.”
Eldon swallowed the last spoonful.
“Or off to become a comedian like you,” he said.
He pushed himself up and shuffled off into the living room.
Tim carried the dirty dishes to the sink. His father reappeared in the kitchen holding a lit cigarette.
“Oh, I forgot,” Eldon said. “Your girlfriend phoned. She wants you to call her.”
Tim quickly dropped the bowl into the dishwasher.
“Why didn’t she call my cell?”
Eldon shrugged. “How should I know?”
Tim pulled out his cell phone. This was great. So quickly. Tim had thought he would have to do all the calling.
No answer. After the beep he said, “Hi, it’s Tim. Dad said you called. Sorry I missed you. You can call me back anytime.”
Tim followed his father, who had drifted into the living room and turned on the TV.
“How long ago did she call?” Tim asked.
“Half an hour maybe.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“Just that she wanted to talk to you.”
“But she didn’t answer her cell. Are you sure it was Lesley?”
“What’s wrong with your ears, boy? I told you Kirsten called.”
“No, you said—”
Then Tim realized his mistake. In his mind he had already moved on from Kirsten. And now Kirsten’s phone call to the apartment made sense; Tim had been ignoring her calls to his cell.
“I guess I was confused,” Tim said. “Kirsten and I split up.”
“Dumped you, huh? I’m not surprised, way you treat her.”
Tim rolled his eyes.
“I dumped her, Dad.”
“What made you think I was talking about Lesley? Isn’t she Rob’s girl?”
“She was, but they’re having troubles. You know, with Rob getting arrested and everything.”
“What’s that got to do with you?”
Everything, Tim wanted to say, but as usual he took the safe way out.
“Nothing, I guess.”
Eldon just gave him a skeptical look.
Ray Landry grunted and leaned forward as another wave of cramps rolled through his gut. He gripped the steering wheel more tightly. They were getting worse. He could feel a sheen of sweat on his forehead.
“You okay?” Rob asked from the back seat.
“Yeah, just gas or something.”
The Buick’s tires rumbled as they bounced along the rough South Boston street. The wipers slapped at the raindrops on the windshield. A chain link fence overgrown with bushes surrounded a Ryder truck depot on their left. Landry turned a corner and stopped in front of a similar fence with a doublewide gate and barbed wire along the top. A large metal sign on the fence proclaimed this to be McCutcheon’s Truck & Heavy Equipment Repair.
Inside the gate was an empty parking lot in front of a dirty brick building with four oversized garage doors. McCutcheon’s had obviously gone out of business some time ago. Landry left the car idling as he got out and unlocked the shiny new padlock on the gate. He had cut the old one off earlier in the day when he had checked out the place. After driving into the lot, Landry swung the gate shut again and then parked in front of the building next to a steel door with a metal-grated window in the top half. A sign over the door said Office. He got out and opened the back door of the car for Rob, who stood up and gazed at the building with a look of bewilderment.
“What are we doing here?” Rob said.
Landry shrugged. “All I know is Steeves said to bring you here, so that’s what I’m doing.”
Rob looked around at the empty parking lot.
“But why? There’s no one else here.”
“He’s meeting us here soon.” Landry headed for the building. “Come on. Let’s go inside and get out of the rain.”
Rob couldn’t see where he had much choice. He followed Landry toward the door.
Landry had picked the door lock earlier and left it unlocked. He pulled the door open and held it for Rob to go ahead of him into the building. Once Rob passed him, Landry pulled out his nine-millimeter and smashed it into the side of Rob’s head. Rob crumpled to the floor. Landry stepped over him, then reached back to close and lock the door.
They were in an office space that contained a half dozen wooden desks, assorted office chairs and a few metal filing cabinets. A faded calendar still hung on the wall with a scantily clad pinup girl on the top half and November 2009 on the bottom. Landry flicked a switch and two rows of fluorescent lights added to what little light filtered in through the dusty windows.
Landry picked out a dilapidated wooden chair with arm rests and metal casters, and rolled it over to where Rob lay on the floor. Grasping one wrist, Landry pulled Rob away from the doorway, then reached under Rob’s shoulders to hoist him into the chair. Using the coil of nylon rope he had left on one of the desks earlier, Landry lashed Rob’s wrists and ankles to the chair.
Rob would awaken soon. Landry hadn’t hit him hard enough to do any serious damage. In the meantime, Landry pulled out his gun again, walked through the interior office door and searched the rest of the building to make sure the place was still deserted. The last thing he needed was for some bum to have happened upon the unlocked door and taken up residence.
Satisfied they were alone, Landry returned to the office, picked out a chair for himself and placed it in front of Rob. He was about to sit down when another bout of cramps made him grab his gut.
Landry scuttled as quickly as he could into the cavernous garage and spotted a tiny bathroom nearby. Dark brown stains lined the toilet bowl, but at least the thing had water in it. Landry fumbled with his belt and made it just in time.
Of all the times to come down with diarrhea, but then there was no such thing as a good time. Was it a flu bug? Or something he ate? He bent over as another wave of pain rolled through his insides.