Vic went into the kitchen and opened his refrigerator, taking a bottle of Miller Lite out of its six-pack carton. "You're playing on the computer, what's the difference?"

  He cracked it and drank half the bottle in one easy swallow. It was cold as ice and went down smooth. He grabbed two more and went back into the living room, plopping down next to Penelope as Jason turned the show back on.

  "Can we play a board game?" Penelope said.

  He put his arm around her and nodded, "As soon as this is over. Let's just sit here for a few minutes and when it's done, we'll shut the TV and the computer off and play anything you want."

  Penelope laid her head against him as he stroked her hair, now finding the stupid cartoon somewhat pleasant. Everything settled inside of him and resolved itself, like sediment floating to the bottom of a canister. Vic finished the second bottle and leaned his head back against the couch. He closed his eyes and soon heard the sounds of snoring coming from his open mouth. Everything was all right, though. Everything was good.

  The sound of Jason's voice woke him up. He opened his eyes to see his son sitting on the coffee table, hunched over as he talked on the phone. Penelope's head was down in his lap and she was asleep. Jason had covered her up with a blanket and taken off her shoes. "I can't put him on, Mom. He's sleeping."

  "Give me the phone," Vic said.

  Jason's head popped up and he handed Vic the phone. "What's up?" Vic said.

  "You fell asleep? You're supposed to be watching them. It's only nine o'clock at night."

  "We were sitting on the couch watching TV and I closed my eyes. What's the big deal?"

  "Were you drinking?"

  Vic looked at the bottles on the coffee table and then at his son. Jason shook his head silently and Vic said, "No. I'm just tired from work."

  "Put Jason on the phone."

  Vic wiggled out from underneath Penelope's head and snapped his fingers at Jason, directing him to the bathroom. "I can't. He just went into the bathroom to get freshened up for bed."

  "Make sure he calls me the second he gets out."

  "Okay. How are you doing?"

  "Tuition for her pre-school is due. I need a check from you when you drop them off in the morning."

  "I don't have it right now."

  "When will you have it by?"

  "When we get our overtime check, I guess. Why can't you pay for it out of the money I give you every week? Why does the three hundred dollars I fork over every paycheck not cover anything they need?"

  "Because I am a single-mother and have no help, Vic. Thanks to you I have no help."

  Vic moved into the kitchen, keeping his hand cupped over the phone to muffle his voice. "You aren't a single mother. That's asinine. I have them three days a week and give you more money than I take home every paycheck. Is that what you tell people? That you're a single-mom with no help?"

  "Well it's true," she said.

  "It is not fucking true. Listen to me—"

  "Don't curse at me! And don't talk to me that way in front of my children!"

  "I'm not in front of the children! Listen to me!" He continued to talk but quickly realized that she'd hung up the phone. He ended the call and put the phone down, fighting the temptation to text her: FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING CUNT. He typed it into his phone but did not send it. It felt better just to write it.

  Jason was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth. Vic leaned up against the bathroom door and said, "Thanks. You know how she gets. Every little thing just…you know how she gets."

  "No problem," the boy said.

  "Listen, I'll put Penelope to bed and how about you and me watch a movie?"

  "I kind of wanted to finish my game, Dad."

  "Oh. Okay. That sounds good," Vic said. He followed his son out of the bathroom and watched him sit down in front of the computer again, quickly immersing himself in the bright screen and theatrical sound effects.

  Vic lifted Penelope and put her back in his lap. He reached for another beer and opened it. It was warm. He drank it anyway.

  Frank finished his fourth beer and sat back, clutching his stomach. The aspirin was not mixing well with the Miller Lite. His whole body tingled and although his knee ached, he was only dully aware of its mild throb. He'd already ground up the remaining Percocet in the garbage disposal. Somewhere, a hundred miles downstream, a little old lady is going to drink a glass of tap water and be high as a kite. Oh well, he thought.

  His phone rang. Frank picked it up and looked at the numbers in confusion. "Hello?"

  "Hey, Frankie. You know who this is?"

  Frank did. "Special Agent Dolos?"

  "Just call me Dez. What are you doing?"

  "Watching TV and drinking beer. We had kind of a crazy day after the meeting. There was this dead guy—"

  "Uh-huh. Can you talk?"

  Frank put down his beer and said, "Yeah. What's up?"

  "Vic was bullshitting me earlier today. Are you going to bullshit me too?"

  "No, of course not."

  "There's room in our operation for good people, Frank. Especially people who have a family history of doing the right thing, you know what I'm saying?"

  Frank paused. "Kind of, I guess."

  "Good. Because we're all big fans of your old man's work. It's the kind of thing that's missing from police work today. The kind of thing it takes certain people to understand. I need a guy like you out in the boonies, Frank. I'll be honest with you, I'm not sure about Vic anymore."

  "I know he can be hard to take sometimes, but he's a good guy."

  "Everybody that works with me makes a lot of money, Frank. They all go on to exclusive assignments that take them far away from the shitholes like where you work now. Stick with me, and you can go places."

  "Okay," Frank said.

  "What's the real reason you guys didn't sign that CI up yet?"

  Frank took a long sip of beer. "I have no idea. Vic talked to him without me there."

  "Really?"

  "Honest to God."

  "All right. Listen, I need that CI flipped. I need you to make sure we get him one way or another. If Vic can't make it happen, I want you to find a way for me to get in touch with him, understand? We have resources you guys could never dream of."

  "I wouldn't doubt it," Frank said.

  "Say hello to your old man for me. Let him know his friends down here haven't forgotten him. If he ever needs anything, you make sure he has my number."

  "I will," Frank said. The line went dead. Frank's first instinct was to call Vic, but he found himself staring at the phone without dialing. He tossed the phone aside, then finished his beer and turned the TV back on.

  9. Vic was sitting at his desk, waiting as Frank walked into the office. He smiled broadly and said, "There he is. Our Miss America. How you feeling?"

  "Like hell," Frank said. "My knee is killing me."

  "I can see the pain in your eyes," Vic said. "It's how I know you haven't been taking that shit anymore. How you making out with that?"

  "What I don't understand is if my doctor says it's okay, and the Chief of Police says it's okay, why do I need to listen to a not-even-promoted Detective who says different?"

  "How many drug addicts does the Chief know?"

  "He doesn't need to know any drug addicts. He has the Staff Sergeant at his side, who is an expert in all aspects of law enforcement. That's a real police officer, with a real rank, Vic..." Frank stopped talking and held up his hand, "I really tried to get all that out without laughing. Let me try again."

  "No need. So how was your night, last night?"

  "Good."

  "What did you do?"

  "Iced my goddamn knee because I'm not allowed to take the proper medicine for it."

  Vic started tapping his pen on his desk anxiously. "Did Dez reach out to you? I figured he would because that's his M.O. He likes nothing better than to divide and conquer."

  "Really?" Frank said.

  "So did he?"

  "Did he call me?"

  "Do you know what the number one thing people do when they are confronted in an interrogation situation and they do not want to answer the question? They repeat it. It allows them to create psychological space and distance from the interrogator so that they can gather their thoughts. Do you know what the number two thing they do is?"

  "No," Frank said.

  "They swear they are telling the truth. They swear to God, swear on their lives, swear on anything really. I once had a man swear on the soul of his dead child that he was telling me the truth. He was actually wearing a t-shirt with a silkscreen of the kid's picture on it that said, IN MEMORIAM."

  "That sucks," Frank said.

  "So what did Dez want?"

  "He wanted to know why we hadn't signed up Billy as a CI yet, and to tell him if you weren't going to do it."

  Vic nodded, still tapping his pen anxiously. "So were you going to tell me about it?"

  "Maybe. I was trying to decide if it was necessary or not."

  Vic came forward on the desk, "Necessary? You mean a guy I introduce you to tries to cut my throat and turn you against me and you have to decide whether or not it's necessary? After everything we've been through? That's bullshit, Frank. You were waiting to see if you could play the cards in your favor. Well I've got news for you, pal. Dez promises a whole lot and delivers very fucking little. He creates discord and misery wherever he goes just because he likes to see people fight. And then, when you think he's your friend, he jams it up your ass sideways and moves on to the next person!"

  Frank waited to speak until Vic had finished and caught his breath. "Can I talk now? I was trying to decide if it was necessary to get you all upset about it. I have no interest in the FBI or anything like that. All I ever wanted to be was a town clown, and that's what I am."

  Vic sat back down and said, "Oh."

  "So let me ask you, just from me to you, with no hidden meanings, are we going to sign Billy up as a CI or not? The guy he can work seems like a badass and we should focus on getting him while we can."

  Vic looked like he was having trouble making sense of Frank's words. "You're a cop all of a sudden?"

  Frank pulled out his badge and showed it to Vic, "You see this? It might be silver now, but it's about to turn gold. I am the next not-even-promoted detective, buddy, and you better get used to it. I swear to God."

  Vic raised his hand to knock on the door, but stopped and said, "You do it."

  Frank rapped gently on the screen door, and Vic scowled and pushed him out of the way. "Nobody's going to take you seriously if you do it like that. Here, watch this." Vic put his hand flat against the metal frame to hold it in place and kicked several times, loud enough to make Frank cover his ears. "You need to get their attention or they think you're the landlord coming to collect rent or something."

  There was no answer. Frank said, "Nice technique, boss. Works great."

  Vic looked back at the driveway and saw Helen's cars were there. "Maybe they went for a walk?"

  Frank shrugged. He bent to peek through the porch window and saw that the television was on. "Knock again."

  Vic held the screen door and kicked it again, harder and louder. He banged on the frame with his fist and shouted, "Open up, Billy. It's the police!"

  Frank pressed his face against the window, "There's food on the counter. Half-empty bottle of milk on the coffee table. If they're not here, they left in a hurry."

  "Shit," Vic said. He opened the screen door and reached for the door's handle when he saw that the frame around it was cracked. There was a large footprint on the center of the door where someone had kicked it in. Vic drew his gun and pushed the door open the rest of the way. "Billy? Mrs. Helen? You in here?"

  Both of them crouched low, keeping their guns aimed at the hallway. "Police!" Frank announced. "Anybody in here?"

  They moved together toward the hall, keeping out of the deadly "fatal funnel" where anyone could be ambushed as they squeezed together into a smaller location. Vic pressed himself against the sidewall and poked his gun and face into the hallway at the three doors that waited. "One bathroom and two bedrooms," he whispered. "We'll take them one at a time."

  Frank moved in behind him, keeping his gun aimed down the hall when Vic swung into the first doorway. It was the bathroom, and he instantly threw the shower curtain aside, expecting someone to be hiding behind it. "Clear."

  Frank felt Vic's hand on his shoulder and they continued down the hall, moving so slow that Frank's leg started to tremble from the weight. He was about to turn to the first bedroom, when Vic grabbed him and whispered, "Don't move."

  Frank looked down at the dried drop of blood on the dirty carpet, leading back to the master bedroom at the end of the hallway. Both men straddled the blood trail and hurried down the hall until they came to the door. "Ready? Go!"

  They piled into the bedroom, turning with their weapons in every direction of the ransacked room. Dressers were overturned and drawers lay broken on the floor. Clothing and bedsheets were strewn about the room and someone had cut the mattress open with a knife. On the surface of the mattress, soaked into the cotton and sliced open fabric was a pool of blackened, crusted blood.

  Vic stood staring down at the bed and finally said, "Ruh-roh."

  Two cars rolled down the street toward the Helen house. Staff Sergeant Erinnyes arrived first in his green unmarked police take-home vehicle followed by Special Agent Dolos' Audi. Dez stepped out of the car and fixed his suit coat, toying with the cufflink on his right sleeve. Erinnyes waddled toward the front step and reached out for the strip of neon crime scene tape, when Frank said, "Stand by, sir! You can't come in."

  Erinnyes looked up at him with a thin-lipped smirk, "Excuse me, patrolman?"

  Frank waved the clipboard in his hand as he came down the steps. "I'm running the crime scene log and not allowed to let anyone in unless authorized by the Chief or Detective Ajax."

  Erinnyes's face darkened as he looked at the FBI agent and then back at Frank. "Get out of my way. That is a direct order."

  Frank shrugged and said, "I'm already following the Chief's order, sir. Don't get mad at me for doing what I'm told, here."

  "Actually, I think he might be right," Dez said. "Too many people in there will destroy the evidence. That is, what evidence remains."

  Erinnyes sneered in agreement. "Go and tell the Chief of Police that I have arrived, and that Special Agent Dolos has accompanied me at my request to oversee the kidnapping investigation."

  Frank went back up the stairs, using the handrail to support his leg. He disappeared into the house only to return a moment later and say, "The Chief said to let Agent Dolos in, but that it's already pretty tight in here." His eyes lowered to Erinnyes's bulging stomach, "They can only squeeze so many people in there at once, sir."

  Dez lifted the crime scene tape and headed up the stairs past Frank. He put on a pair of black rubber gloves and delicately opened the screen door. Vic was standing in the living room talking to the Chief. "Un-fucking-believable," Dez said. "This is on your head, Ajax."

  "Oh, kiss my ass, you pompous dick," Vic said. "Chief, we don't need this asshole coming in here trying to tell us how to do an investigation."

  "Like hell you don't," Dez said. "If you'd done what I told you to do yesterday, we wouldn't be in this situation right now. I've got an entire family missing and it's all your fault."

  "Really? How was signing Billy up as a CI going to prevent the bad guys from showing up and doing this?"

  "Well maybe at the very least, if you'd reached out to him, we'd have discovered the kidnapping an entire day earlier," Dez said. "Now, they're probably all dead in a gutter somewhere because you were too lazy to come talk to him."

  Vic shouted something back when the Chief held up his hands and said, "Enough! Both of you shut your mouths right now!" He turned to Vic and said, "The FBI is here to conduct this investigation with the full spectrum of their resources. Is that understood?"

  Vic bit his lip but managed to nod.

  The Chief turned to the FBI agent and said, "This is our town, and our case. My detectives are staying with it until the bitter end. We are not handing it over, is that clear?"

  "Of course, sir. We only want to help." Dez flashed a smile at the Chief, "After all, we're on the same team."

  The Chief fixed his hat to his head and headed for the door. "I want this situation resolved, gentlemen. Get moving."

  Frank held the door open for the Chief and turned to see Vic and Dez glaring at one another. "Was it just me or did he say Detectives?"

  They walked Dez through the crime scene and showed him the bloody, ripped up mattress in the back bedroom. Dez frowned at the mass of blood, then carefully inspected the walls and furniture around the bed. He even looked up at the ceiling. "You guys see any blood spatter?"

  "No," Vic said. He quickly added, "I already looked for it."

  Dez sighed, "Well, I guess that's a good thing."

  "Why?" Frank asked.

  "It means they're probably alive. Or at least, they were when they left here," Dez said.

  "I don't know…that's a whole lot of blood," Frank said.

  "Not really," Vic said. "You ever had a nosebleed? It can pour like a faucet. Maybe Paris punched Billy in the face and threw him down on the bed."

  "Or Billy's wife," Dez said.

  Frank bent over the mattress to inspect it. "What about all the cuts?"

  Dez ran his finger along the one of the long slits and said, "He was looking for the money. He probably thought they were hiding it in the mattress."

  "He should have checked the dirty baby diapers," Frank grimaced.

  Dez looked at them both, "What do you mean?"

  "Long story," Vic said. "Listen, are we going to work this together for real, or are we going to keep bickering?"

  "I only care about the case, Vic. You know that. What do you want to do?"

  "We need a crime scene unit here to process, a surveillance team at Paris' house, and somebody to do the search warrants and court orders for the phones. How many people can you spare?"

 

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