Читать книгу The Evil That Men Do - Dave White - Страница 21
ОглавлениеFranklin Carter rubbed his face in his hands. He sat across from Donne and refused to make eye contact. Droplets of water soaked into his shirt at the shoulders, and his hair was matted down from the rain.
He took a deep breath, bit his lip, and said, “I thought you were dealing with your mother. That’s what I’m paying you for.”
“I want to know what happened in the city.”
“What’s there to know? A truck pulled up and blew up. Now there’s nothing. But no one got hurt. That’s what happened.”
“Who did it?”
He finally met Donne’s eyes. But Carter looked at Donne like Donne was an idiot. “Terrorists? Someone deranged? I don’t know.”
Lauren came out of the kitchen with the steak sandwich and placed it, a bottle of ketchup, and a glass of iced tea in front of Donne. He took a sip of the tea.
“The FBI said it’s not terrorists. And it seems very interesting that someone ‘deranged’ picked your restaurant to blow up. At three in the morning. When no one could get hurt.”
“Deranged people are called deranged for a reason.”
Donne took a bite of the steak sandwich. Better off taking his time and letting Carter sweat. He appeared shaken up and angry. That wasn’t like the Carter he knew. Then again, his restaurant had just been bombed. That had to be hard to take.
Donne said, “It just seems like a huge coincidence that your restaurant blows up and two of my relatives are murdered.”
“Susan told me they were dead. Nothing else. She was too upset. What happened?”
Donne told him the story, and Carter noticed the bruise on Donne’s head from the gun. As Donne finished the story, Carter buried his head in his hands.
“Can you leave, please?” he asked. “I’d like to finish my sand—”
“Get out!”
Donne put the sandwich down, fixing the silverware into the perfect place setting. He took a twenty out of his wallet and left it on the table. Carter said nothing during the process. Donne stood up and left the restaurant.
Outside the rain had stopped, and he walked to his car slowly. There was no hurry. He wanted to mull over what had just happened.
It could be that Carter was just having a bad day. At the same time, Donne’s instinct was telling him otherwise. Carter knew something. He knew why people were dying. And though they hadn’t spoken much, Donne remembered that Carter had been the rock for his sister at tough times. When Donne had gone into rehab. When Jeanne died.
Suddenly, it all came flooding back. Right there in the middle of Church Street, Donne almost passed out. He realized he hadn’t thought of Jeanne in days.
They’d been separated for a few months, Donne and Jeanne.
Who she slept with in that time was her business. But his old partner? Finding that out only months ago had been like going through her death all over again. The short time they had when they got back together was tainted.
And then she got in the car that night.
What it must have been like, watching the headlights careening across the double yellow line toward her car. The drunk driver who left the scene of the crime never to be heard from again, empty bottles of scotch on the floor of the car the only clue to his state of mind. She died, and he couldn’t be there to save her. He’d changed his life for her. And in an instant she was gone.
He got to his car and took a few deep breaths. He needed a drink. Badly.
***
Delshawn Butler’s cell phone rang before he even got out of the park. He looked at the caller ID and picked it up.
“You want the guy you ran into outside the house, you can have him. Beat the shit out of him,” Hackett said.
Butler sucked his teeth and gave it some thought. “Yeah, where he at?”
“He’s leaving Carter’s restaurant.” Hackett described the car the guy had been driving. The same one he saw outside of that East Rutherford house.
“How do you know it’s him?”
“I just do.”
Butler listened, hung up, and went to find his ride. He had some shit to deal with now.
He found the car pulling onto Valley Road just a few minutes later.
1938
Joe Tenant opened the door to his kitchen. It was next to the driveway, and his family never used it, but he was too tired to walk back around to the front door like a “civilized man,” as his wife would say.
Caroline was scrubbing the dishes in the sink and the kitchen smelled of bacon and maple syrup. She looked up from her work when he closed the door.
“You’re late this morning. I had to walk Isabelle to school all by myself.”
He started to apologize, to just say something, but the words wouldn’t come. The lump in his throat was thick, and for a moment he was happy Isabelle was at school already. He wasn’t going to be able to hold back the tears.
He collapsed into Caroline’s arms, pulled her close to him, and kissed her neck. He didn’t shake when he cried, the tears just rolled down his cheeks and onto the strap of his wife’s apron.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he kissed her deeply and she responded, pressing her body against his, letting his tongue explore her mouth. She ran her hands through his hair. He lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom.
***
Before he fell asleep, Joe asked Caroline to wake him when she was going to pick up Isabelle. She did at quarter to three. He dressed and walked with her along Hoover toward the tall brick school. It was one of the best features of their house, being only a block from school. Behind them, he noticed a dark Chevy, its motor idling.
Isabelle was the second to last student out, like she always was. Something about walking in alphabetical order in a line struck Tenant the wrong way. It was like Isabelle was always going to come in last, that the school bred it in her, all because her last name started with T. She was going to have to work just a little bit harder.
When Isabelle saw Tenant, she screamed, “Daddy!” and embraced him. He lifted her off her feet and held her tight. Thankfully, tears did not come. He put her down and the family walked home together.
The Chevy still idled across from their house. Two men sat inside it, making no effort to hide. The one in the passenger seat gave Tenant a little wave while Tenant tried to stare them down.
“Nice kid,” the guy in the car said.
“Take her inside,” Tenant said to Caroline.
“What are you going to do?” She had seen the car too. “Just go.”
She did as she was told, and Joe went up the driveway and opened the trunk of his car. He took out the crowbar he kept inside. Gripping it in his right hand, he crossed the street. He noticed the Chevy’s engine was now shut down.
They didn’t know what was going to happen until it was too late. Tenant raised the crowbar over his head and brought it down hard on the windshield. The glass crumpled and shattered against the blow. He raised it again and brought it down upon the hood this time. He heard the engine roar to life.
“Stay the fuck away from my family! I did what you said!” he yelled, bringing the crowbar down twice more.
The car started to roll and pull away from the curb. Tenant stepped out of its path and threw the crowbar at the bumper. It clattered against the ground. The Chevy was gone.
***
Two hours later, as Tenant dressed for work, he heard the telephone ring. He took it.
“That was a nice stunt today. Did your wife see it?”
He gripped the phone tight. He didn’t recognize the voice, but it was definitely Irish.
“We only wanted to make sure you listened to our threat from the morning. You were in no danger at that moment. However, if you go to the police, if you try another stunt like you pulled this afternoon, you and your family’s safety will be in danger.” The voice trailed off.
Tenant wasn’t going to put up with this.
“I told you to stay away from my family,” he said. “Or what you saw from me today was just the beginning.”
“Then I feel pity for your wife, because she’s married to a dead man. I hope you understand.”
The line went dead.
