Blind to Sin Page 11

  “Wouldn’t have happened if you’d done your job,” Cole mumbled.

  Before he could go to the kitchen, he heard movement in the back room. Padded, soft footsteps moving toward the living room. Cole straightened up and waited for Tammy to appear. He expected her to be sleepy, bleary eyed and wondering what the noise was.

  Instead, he got someone who looked like she’d just finished her third cup of coffee.

  “Where have you been?” she asked, her voice louder than it’d been in weeks.

  Cole scratched his chin. “New York City, and then one of the houses in Jersey City. I couldn’t move Manuel too far after he called me. So we holed up for the day to try to get Manuel back to moving around. This is the best I can do.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Accident.” Cole shrugged.

  “That’s no accident. Someone beat the shit out of him. I’ve been around too long, Elliot.”

  Cole walked over to her and pulled her close. It wasn’t always like this. Ten years ago, she was stronger, sinewy like a runner. He remembered how, after a successful gig, when they’d hidden out in a Jersey Shore town in the summer, she’d go for long runs in the morning. Ten miles up and down the beach. When she got back, Adrik would have brought Matt Herrick down to their hideout, and she’d take him out for breakfast.

  The breakfasts stopped ages ago. The running? Three or four years ago. She got tired.

  “Everything ended,” she told him when he asked why. Sometimes you just had to move on.

  “Don’t worry about what happened, Tammy. You have to recover.” He pulled her closer and felt her palms against his chest. “We wanted to get back in time for your next treatment.”

  Tammy gently pushed away from him. He tried to hold her still, but the push grew stronger. He let her go.

  “There won’t be another treatment,” she said.

  A stalagmite grew in Cole’s chest. “You need to recover. And until Cuba—”

  “Shut up, Elliot. I know.”

  Cole blinked. “Know what?”

  Tammy shook her head. Her eyes glistened. “How could you?”

  Cole stood there, silent. He wasn’t sure where Tammy was going with this. What she knew. Or thought she knew. Better to let her talk it out, and he could react afterward.

  “I found your paperwork. The X-rays. The doctor’s notes. The cancer is gone. I don’t need chemo.”

  Cole took a step forward and saw his way out. “Sweetheart, you can’t read a doctor’s paperwork. It’s all gibberish. Nonsense words. Do you have a medical degree? Trust what the doctor told us. You need more treatment. Or you’ll die.”

  Tammy looked like she’d swallowed bleach. The rock in Cole’s chest crumbled a little bit.

  “No!” Tammy shouted. She turned her back on him. “I know what I read. The cancer is gone, Elliot. If it was ever there.”

  Manuel snapped his head off the couch, suddenly wide awake. “What? What are you talking about?”

  Tammy turned toward him. “Your boyfriend told my husband I am cancer free. Yet he still hooks me up to the IV every single day. Pumps radiation into me. My hair is falling out in clumps.”

  Manuel touched the bruise at his eye and winced. “Neil wouldn’t lie.”

  “He didn’t,” Tammy said. “Elliot did.”

  Manuel turned to Cole. “Where is Neil? We have to verify this.”

  Cole shook his. “You will all play your roles. We need the money and we need to get Tammy back to full health. We need to get out of here.

  “Where does Matt live?” Tammy asked.

  The question caught Cole off guard. “What? Why?”

  “I’m leaving. I’m going to see my son. To fix things. It’s been too long. I’m not a part of your life anymore.”

  A burst of flame shot up Cole’s throat. “You are my wife! And you will do what I say.”

  “No. I am not defined by you. Tell me where my son lives. He is a good man. I believe that. He will help me.”

  Manuel forced himself out of his chair. “Wait.” He tried to catch his breath before speaking. “Wait until Neil gets here and we will figure this out.”

  Tammy seemed to sink in a little bit. She wasn’t getting past Manuel, punch drunk or not. Cole counted to ten, waiting for the jangle in his nerves to settle.

  “I am not lying to you, Tammy. I love you.”

  Tammy shook her head. “You love money more. You love the game more. You love the spotlight more than you ever loved me. This all started because you got the wrong kind of credit back when Kenneth got caught. You weren’t the villain, but the hero. Well, faking cancer? Fuck you, Elliot.”

  She clutched her nightdress tight at the collar and turned back toward her room. Cole breathed deep.

  “Thank you,” he said to Manuel.

  “You shouldn’t have lied to her. Or me. I’m going to talk to Neil about this.”

  Cole nodded. “First you need to rest. You have work to do. And, I promise you, when we get the chance, I’m going to let you kill Jackson Donne.”

  Manuel grinned. With a groan, he sank back down into the couch. Cole stood and waited for him to fall completely asleep, the rhythm of his breathing only interrupted by the occasional snore.

  Satisfied, Cole went to his office, pausing and listening at Tammy’s door. He could hear the quiet weeping. He wanted to go wrap her in his arms and hold her until she cried it out.

  But it was him she was crying about. Going in would only make it worse.

  Once in his office, Cole found all the paperwork Tammy had sorted through. Cole pulled out the metal garbage can next to his desk and dropped it in. He then used the lighter for the grill to burn away the evidence.

  THE TEARS didn’t last long. Tammy rested her head on the pillow, willing herself to calm down. She counted in her head, first up to eleven and then back down again. The second time she did it, her breath came back to normal and the ache in her chest eased a bit.

  Her eyelids were so heavy. Counting to eleven was like counting sheep. She could figure out her next step tomorrow morning.

  As the world started to fade, a knock came at her door.

  She rolled on her side, away from the IV hanger, and opened her eyes.

  “Go away, Elliot.”

  The door opened a crack.

  “It’s me,” Manuel said.

  Tammy adjusted herself on the bed, trying to sit up a little bit. The bruise on her arm ached as she pushed on the mattress. That damn IV. The one she never, ever needed.

  “Come in, Hon,” she said.

  The door opened all the way, and Manuel’s huge body filled the frame, backlit by the hallway lamps. He came all the way in the room, pulling up a chair. He left the door open.

  “Close the door and put on the lights,” Tammy said.

  “No. I don’t want you to see me like this. My face. It was like—”

  Usually, Tammy would rub Manuel’s shoulders and let him talk about the past. The days when he was a gang member just trying to get by. Before Elliot pulled him out of the neighborhood. Out of that life. Put him in the National Guard.

  Manuel would be dead if it hadn’t been for Elliot. There was so much he was able to do because he wasn’t identified on that photo ten years ago.

  Of course, the way Elliot would tell it, he was a hero. And the more notoriety he’d had, the more he would have done.

  Was that right? Tammy wasn’t sure. He took such pains to hide in Kansas those first three years. But Elliot was always talking, sometimes on one end of the spectrum and other times another. Maybe it was the illness that was confusing Tammy.

  “I just want to say,” Manuel said, “I had no idea. I thought you were sick.”

  Tammy let those words sit for a minute, processing them. Manuel wasn’t someone you wanted to come at half-cocked and angry. He could fly off the handle at any moment.

  “Really, Manuel?” Tammy chose her next words. “Neil never said anything to you? He was my doctor, you k
now. He was the one who was supposed to keep me healthy.”

  Manuel shook his head. “Never said a word. Can you believe that? I love him, but he keeps quiet about the medical stuff. Always says I wouldn’t understand it.”

  “You’re smart about other things. How is your face?” She didn’t want to know what happened.

  “I’ve had worse. Back when.”

  The words dissipated into the ether and they both sat in the dark for a while. Tammy stared at the ceiling, hoping her eyes would adjust to the dark, but the light streaming in from the hallway made her head hurt.

  Manuel finally said, “Do you remember when I first came here? After my discharge.”

  Tammy nodded, but realized Manuel probably couldn’t see her. “Yes, I remember.”

  Manuel continued anyway. She knew the story he was going to tell, but let him go on with it. His deep voice, with the slight accent, was soothing. Maybe she’d fall asleep.

  “He was so scared about getting older. So worried about losing his edge. Remember? And he asked me how many pushups they’d have me do when I was training. And he’d try to do one more. And how far we would run. And he would try to do that extra mile. You were so worried about him having a heart attack, Tammy. We didn’t know you were going to get sick.”

  “I’m not sick,” she said. It was still unbelievable to hear out loud. “Not anymore.”

  “I know. I know.” Manuel leaned back, the chair coming off its front two legs. “The first time, it went great. Elliot did the workout no problem, even though you said he was sweating like a bull.” He laughed. “I always liked that. Like a bull. Not a pig. You were so careful how you spoke to him.”

  Tammy didn’t respond.

  “But the next time, he told me he wanted to do more. That I was going easy on him. And when I told him I wasn’t lying, he slapped me. Open hand, pop, right on the cheek. And I didn’t do anything at all. I wasn’t lying.”

  “I know, Manuel. I remember. You don’t have to say anything. It’s just nice for you to sit here.”

  They were quiet for a moment. Somewhere in the other rooms, Tammy heard thunking and clunking. Elliot was searching for something. Or working off steam, or both. He never was able to do things quietly in the house. Plan a crime and no one would know. Look for the ketchup in the pantry and wake up the neighborhood.

  Of course, after the robbery, he wanted everyone to know anyway.

  “I want to tell you, Tammy. Please. It feels good to talk about stuff like this.”

  “Go ahead,” she said, exhaling the words. She just wanted to sleep, but Manuel—somewhere inside of him was this sweet man. A boy who’d been ignored or sent down the wrong path.

  What could have been.

  “After he slapped me, you came to him. Remember? Ran to him. You looked so young to me at that moment. You grabbed Elliot’s arm. I’ve never seen anyone stand up to him like that. You told him to stop. He had to remember how much younger I was than him. He couldn’t push me like that anymore.”

  “That’s not all I said,” she whispered.

  “No. It wasn’t. You told him he couldn’t treat me like that. That I owed you my life, yes. But I wasn’t his stress ball. He couldn’t take his anger out on me. I always wondered what he was angry about.”

  Tammy slid down the bed a little, into a more comfortable position. She hoped Manuel would get the hint.

  She said, “He didn’t like being bested. He doesn’t like knowing how old he is or that the end is near. It’s getting closer for us, Manuel. We are getting old. But Elliot doesn’t like to hear that or think about that. He loved the old days, when he would plan and drive us away. But now. I don’t know. He needs that thrill.”

  Maybe that’s what this was about. When did he first broach the idea of this crazy heist to her? Before she knew she had—thought she had—cancer. After some day trip he took. Told her he’d been thinking about the good old days. He always had. And they should do one more job and retire.

  She told him no. Those days were over.

  “Do you think Elliot likes Neil, Tammy?”

  The world was starting to fade again. She was so exhausted.

  “I do. He using him, isn’t he?”

  Manuel must have leaned forward because the legs of the chair clunked against the floor.

  “Do you like Neil?”

  “I like when you’re happy, Manuel.”

  “I swear I didn’t know.”

  Tammy closed her eyes. She wanted nothing more than sleep. To figure things out in the morning.

  “I believe you.”

  “I promise you this. If you ever need help, I will help you. But I owe Elliot. He got me out. He saved me. I owe him. But I owe you too.”

  “Good night, Manuel. Thank you.”

  She felt his big paw around her wrist, a quick squeeze. He said good night, and then walked out of the room. When he closed the door, she welcomed the darkness.

  Sleep came only moments later.

  HERRICK FOUND himself back in his apartment, alone.

  The sun had set. The streets were quiet. Sarah should be home soon, he thought. He stared at the iced tea in front of him. He was thirsty but had no desire to drink.

  The fact that Donne and his dad let him even leave New York was shocking. He said they wanted him to continue his life, keep working and keep showing up to school. Nothing out of the ordinary. He wondered if they knew Mack had been in touch with him.

  Herrick tried to will himself not to think too much. The TV played an NBA game, but he couldn’t focus on it. The tremors were starting, running through his hands. He chest vibrated.

  Not now.

  Inhale for four seconds. Exhale for four seconds. Breathe the stress out. Herrick could do this. He knew he could.

  At that moment, he heard the key in the door. He squeezed his eyes shut and counted. The door opened at six.

  “Are you okay?” Sarah was breathless.

  “I…” He squeezed his fists tight. Tried not to slam them into the couch cushions. “I’m fine.”

  He heard keys and her purse drop to the floor. The keys bounced.

  “No, you’re not.” Her footsteps tapped against the wooden floor. Her arms wrapped around him.

  And then Herrick let it all out. He shook as she held him. His breath became shallow. He clutched her shirt. He fought the tears.

  “What happened?” she asked. “What happened?”

  His breathing started to slow. The tension throughout his back and his arms eased. Sarah rubbed his back.

  Finally, he pushed away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Please. Don’t apologize. You did this last year too. After Donne went away. I get it.”

  “Yeah—but your apartment building blew up. Not mine. I should be tougher.”

  Sarah smiled. “You know it was more than that. But I got to move in with you.”

  “To make sure I didn’t die in my sleep.”

  “Seriously, are you okay?”

  “It’s my dad. It’s everything that’s going on.” Herrick rubbed his face. “Jesus. I feel like I just left Afghanistan.”

  “This is the second panic attack you’ve had since this all started.” Sarah pulled one leg up onto the couch.

  Herrick nodded. “That’s not good.”

  “Maybe you should see someone.”

  He looked away from her.

  Sarah didn’t push him for a response. He liked that. He liked that she lived here. The insurance she pulled down from the explosion meant she could have gone anywhere, but when he asked, she decided yes, she’d live with him full time. They were in shock when it first happened, and didn’t have time to react or do anything but try to grin their way through the hell he’d put them through. But within a month it became second nature.

  Things were just fine.

  And had been for a year. Now, he wondered if she would stick with him through his family reunion.

  “My dad needs me and I’m going to
help him.”

  “Your dad is a thief.”

  Herrick nodded. “When I’m done—when we’re finished—he’ll be back where he belongs.”

  “What about your mom?”

  “Getting healthy.”

  “And Jackson Donne?”

  Herrick exhaled. Another tremor rolled through him, like the aftershock of an earthquake.

  “I don’t know what to do about Donne.”

  “You’ll figure it out?”

  Herrick nodded again. “I’ll play it by ear.”

  “That’s not your best decision. Maybe you should come up with a plan for him. Play it by ear is not a plan.”

  “It’s really all I have right now.”

  Sarah leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. “When will you start?”

  “I already have,” he said. “Thank God it’s not basketball season.”

  IT STARTED with Jiminy Cricket.

  Herrick was back on the highway, cruising south on the Turnpike. This was part one according to Kenneth. Figure out who the National Guard guy was who threatened Herrick. It would have been the first step for him too, but his dad was insistent.

  Traffic was slow, the beginnings of rush hour starting to clog the roads. But Herrick pumped the rock station and tried to enjoy the drive. He followed the same route as the last time, exiting at New Brunswick and swinging around the winding roads down to the base. Instead of driving past it, he pulled into the entranceway, right up to the guy with the loaded weapon.

  The guard held a hand up to slow him down. Herrick obliged.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  “I’d like to talk to someone in charge,” Herrick said. He liked the feeling of being back on a base, which surprised him.

  “Right now, until I tell you otherwise, I’m in charge, sir.”

  Herrick nodded. He held up his PI license and his military discharge papers.

  “Does this help?”

  The guard took the two pieces of paperwork and studied them. He whispered something into the walkie-talkie attached to his uniform. He looked at the paperwork some more. Herrick hummed along with the song on the radio. The music was loud, but Herrick was respectful and didn’t drum on the steering wheel. The humming kept him occupied, so he barely noticed that this entrance looked almost exactly like the one on the base in Afghanistan.