Darkness, Take My Hand (Kenzie & Gennaro 2)

“Okay. And Bubba? If anything happens to me in the next week, let’s say I meet with an accident, will you do something for me?”

“Name it.”

“Find a safe place for Mae and Grace…”

“Okay.”

“…and then cancel Hurlihy’s ticket.”

“No problem. That it?”

“That’s it.”

“Okee-doke. See ya.”

“Let’s hope so.”

I hung up and saw that the tremors that had been rippling through my wrists and hands since I’d shot out Kevin’s window had stopped.

I called Devin next.

“Agent Bolton wants to talk to you.”

“I’m sure.”

“He doesn’t like you being associated with two out of four dead.”

“Four?”

“We think he killed another one last night. I can’t get into it right now. You going to come by or is Bolton going to have to come for you?”

“I’ll be by.”

“When?”

“Soon. Kevin Hurlihy just paid me a house call and told me to back off the investigation, by the way.”

“We’ve had him under surveillance for days. He ain’t our killer.”

“I didn’t think he was. He lacks the imagination for what this guy is pulling. But he’s involved somehow.”

“It’s curious, I’ll admit. Look, get your ass over to FBI Headquarters. Bolton’s ready to send out a dragnet, pull in you, Gerry Glynn, Jack Rouse, Fat Freddy, everyone else who was anywhere near any of the victims.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

I hung up, and an explosion of country music rocked the apartment through my open kitchen screen. Of course, if you’re hearing Waylon, it must be nine.

I looked at my watch. Nine on the dot.

I stepped out on my back porch. Lyle was working on the house closest to mine, and he turned the radio down when he saw me.

“Hey, Patrick, how y’all doing, son?”

“Lyle,” I said, “I got my girlfriend’s daughter sleeping over. Could we maybe keep it down a bit?”

“Sure thing, son. Sure thing.”

“Thanks,” I said. “We’ll be cutting out pretty soon, so you can turn it back up when we go.”

He shrugged. “Only doing a third of a day here myself. Got me a bad tooth kept me up half the night.”

“Dentist?” I said and winced.

“Yeah,” he said morosely. “Hate paying those bastards, but I tried pulling the tooth myself last night with some pliers and the sumbitch only come out like so far and then it wouldn’t budge. Plus, them pliers got all slippery cause of all the blood and, well—”

“Good luck at the dentist, Lyle.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll tell you, bastard ain’t using no Novocaine on me neither. Ol’ Lyle just about faints dead away he sees a needle. I’m some kind of coward, huh?”

Sure, Lyle, I thought. A big fraidy cat. Go pull a few more of your teeth out with pliers, no one will be able to stop talking about what a wuss you are.

I went back into the bedroom and Mae was gone.

The comforter was crumpled by the foot of my bed and Miss Lilly, her doll, lay on the top of the daybed, staring up at me with her dead doll eyes.

Then I heard the toilet flush and I stepped out into the hall as Mae stepped out of the bathroom rubbing her eyes.

My heart jackhammered into my dust-dry mouth, and I wanted to drop to my knees under the weight of the relief that washed over my body.

“I’m hungry, Patrick,” she said and walked into the kitchen in her Mickey Mouse pajamas with padded feet.

“Apple Jacks or Sugar Pops?” I managed. “Sugar Pops.”

“Sugar Pops it is.”

While Mae was in the bathroom changing out of her pajamas and brushing her teeth, I called Angie.

“Hey,” she said.

“How you doing?”

“I’m…okay. Still trying to convince myself there was nothing we could’ve done to keep Jason alive.”

A silence hung between us because I was trying to convince myself of the same.

“You find out anything about Eric?” I said.

“A little. Five years ago, when Eric was still teaching part-time at U/Mass-Boston, a city councilor from Jamaica Plain named Paul Hobson filed suit against the school and Eric.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Everything pertaining to the case is sealed. Looks like an out-of-court settlement followed by gag orders all around. Eric left U/Mass, though.”

“Anything else?”

“So far, no, but I’m still digging.”

I told her about my encounter with Kevin.

“You shot out his car window, Patrick? Jesus.”

“I was a tad perturbed.”

“Yeah, but shooting out his car window?”

“Angie,” I said, “he threatened Mae and Grace. He does anything that uncool next time I see him, maybe I’ll just forget the car and shoot him.”

“There’s going to be a reprisal,” she said.

“I’m aware of that.” I sighed, felt the weight behind my eyes, the stench of fear in my shirt. “Bolton’s ordered me down to the JFK Building.”

“Me too?”

“You weren’t mentioned.”

“Good.”

“I’ll have to take care of Mae somehow.”

“I’ll take her,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“I’d love it. Bring her by. I’ll take her to the playground across the street.”

I called Grace and told her I’d gotten hung up. She thought Mae hanging out with Angie was a fine idea as long as Angie didn’t mind.

“She’s looking forward to it, believe me.”

“Great. You okay?”

“Fine. Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “There’s a tremor in your voice.”

Guys like Kevin will do that, I thought.

“I’m fine. I’ll see you soon.”

Mae walked into the kitchen as I hung up.

“Hey, pal,” I said, “want to go to the playground?”

She smiled and it was her mother’s smile, guileless and open and without hesitation. “Playground? They got swings?”

“Course they got swings. Wouldn’t be much of a playground without swings.”

“They got a jungle gym?”

“They got one of those too.”