Blind to Sin Read online

  Sarah was getting Tammy into bed, and Herrick could hear whispering. He wondered what Sarah was saying. Or was it Tammy talking? He hoped she would sleep. She needed it. They had to get her to a real doctor soon.

  The other two, Donne and Kenneth, stood on opposite sides of the room. Donne was staring out the window while Kenneth was rooting through the kitchen. He had mentioned something about chips, but Herrick didn’t keep those at home. He went bare bones, buying enough groceries for the week and keeping the crappy snacks away. Somehow, he thought he was sending a message to his team, even though they’d never been in his apartment. Sarah kept trying to get him to buy kale chips, but that was not happening.

  “So,” Kenneth said, slamming a cabinet shut. “Since there’s nothing to eat, let’s talk.”

  Herrick sat down on the couch. Donne still didn’t face them. A ripple went down Herrick’s back.

  “Okay,” Herrick said. “Talk.”

  “Well, Mr. Military, we need you.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  Donne turned from the window. His face was unreadable.

  “You know the routines. You know how to act like you’ve been there before. You were military. You have to predict how they’re going to respond. We need a strategy. We have the weapons. We need a plan.”

  Herrick bit his lip.

  “Manuel already robbed the National Guard base. He and Haskins are military. You don’t need me.”

  Kenneth blinked. “I don’t need. I want. God damn it. The plan was my idea. And you’re my son. My family. This is my plan! Not Elliot’s.”

  Donne opened his mouth and Kenneth shot him a look. Again the ripple went down Herrick’s back.

  “Dad, walk away.”

  Kenneth slammed his fist down on the coffee table. The noise of the strike was so loud it made Sarah poke her head out of the bedroom.

  “We are doing this!” Kenneth’s voice burned fire from his mouth. “You are my son and you will listen to me.”

  Herrick shook his head. “Just two men with horrendous egos. One pissed because he didn’t get his face on TV ten years ago, and another pissed because he lost ten years of playing the game.”

  Kenneth’s nose crinkled and his nostrils flared.

  “Kenneth,” Donne said. His voice was even.

  Kenneth’s head snapped up in Donne’s direction and his face relaxed. Herrick hadn’t seen his dad react like that in a long time. If ever.

  “Sorry,” Kenneth said. “It’s the stress.”

  Donne shot Kenneth another look, and this one was easy to read. Something along the lines of, “Tell him.” Now Herrick’s stomach cramped.

  Sarah came out of the bedroom, looked around the living room and shook her head.

  “Your mom’s asleep,” she said.

  “You can’t be here,” Kenneth said.

  “She lives here,” Herrick said.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  And they waited, silently, as if some momentous occasion was about to occur. Like waiting to see if the superstar would hit the shot at the buzzer. But nothing happened.

  “Sarah,” Herrick finally said.

  “It’s a school night,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “What time do you start work in the morning, dear?” Kenneth’s voice was like strawberry syrup.

  “I’ll be out of here by seven.”

  Kenneth sat on the easy chair and reclined it. “We’ll talk tomorrow, then.”

  Donne sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. Herrick shook.

  Sarah came and sat next to him on the couch and put her head on his shoulder. He remembered this from a year and a half ago, the first time she did it—just hours after her apartment exploded. The last place he expected to be was here, potentially throwing his life away.

  Herrick closed his eyes. Soon the tremors stopped, and he was asleep too.

  DONNE MOVED from the carpet to the wall and sat in the darkness. The slow breathing of the Herrick’s sleep cycle kept rhythm in the room. Donne tried to rest, but sleep was not going to come.

  After talking to Kenneth on the street, Donne realized there was only one way to make sure this was over with only minor collateral damage. He watched the clock. Three a.m. would be the witching hour. There would be other steps, but tonight was step one.

  The clock ticked away the minutes, and then the hours. More and more, Donne was convinced this was the way to go. Too often in his career he reacted instead of being proactive. Someone had to die—usually someone close to him—before he made moves he needed to. If he had acted sooner, Katie would be alive. Mario would be alive. Even Bill Martin would still be alive. And already this time around, Jesus was dead. He was always a step too late.

  Donne always chose to wait. And things then went to hell.

  No more.

  Three o’clock in the morning. He checked the time on the burner phone and then the cable box display to confirm. The time didn’t matter, more that it needed to be late enough that no one was on the streets in Hoboken. On a Monday—no, now it was early Tuesday morning—the streets would be clear for sure. Even the hipsters didn’t stay out too late on a random April Monday.

  Donne stood up and edged over to Kenneth’s seat on the couch. He watched his chest rise and fall for a moment before touching his shoulder. Kenneth jerked awake, eyes wide. He was about to say something, but Donne had a finger over his own lips. Be quiet.

  Kenneth nodded.

  Donne shook his head toward the door—Let’s take a walk.

  Kenneth nodded again and then inched himself out of the chair. He slipped on his shoes and then followed Donne into the hallway.

  Once there, Kenneth said, “What’s up?”

  Donne shook his head. “Not here. Let’s get outside.”

  They took the elevator down to the lobby. Donne led the way onto the street, which was now completely empty.

  “Okay,” Kenneth said. “What’s up?”

  This was the moment Donne had to sell Kenneth. To keep things from getting any worse, he had to get Kenneth to go along with his plan. He only needed ten minutes.

  “Before I got to the apartment, you know, before you flashed a gun at me, I was coming to tell you something important. I wanted to show you something. It could help us. It’s over near the train station. I saw it on my walk back here.”

  Kenneth said, “No. Tell me first.”

  “You know,” Donne said, “the best leaders take advice from all corners. Take a look at this thing. I can’t really describe it well. Kind of a car, but I think it can help.”

  Kenneth exhaled. “You woke me up at three in the morning for this?”

  Donne shrugged. “I think we’re going to have to steal it.”

  A glint appeared in Kenneth’s eye. “Show me.”

  They walked down Washington to first and hung a left. Donne kept Kenneth a step behind, moving at a quick pace.

  “Relax,” Kenneth said. “Don’t be nervous. You’ll draw attention.”

  Donne pointed toward a narrow alleyway. “It’s just up here.”

  Kenneth harrumphed, but before he could protest, Donne turned right up the corridor. A rat scuttled out of the way behind a small dumpster. On the other end, Donne could see the street. It was clear. Now or never.

  “There’s noth—”

  Donne whirled around and caught Kenneth with a straight right. He felt the cartilage of Kenneth’s nose crunch under his knuckles. Kenneth’s head snapped back and an arc of blood followed it. He took a step backward and brought his hands up to his face. His jacket opened and Donne caught the glint of gun metal.

  Do it fast, he thought.

  Donne maneuvered inward and caught him with two body blows. The air went out of Kenneth with a whoosh. Donne connected his elbow to Kenneth’s jaw and Kenneth went down to one knee. He wasn’t screaming, instead making a small whining noise. Donne grabbed him by the back of his head and slammed it down into the asphalt ground with a sickening thud
.

  Kenneth managed, “I protected you.”

  Donne kicked him in the ribs. Hard.

  “No,” Kenneth hissed.

  Donne didn’t respond. He just brought the heel of his shoe down on Kenneth’s head. An instant later, Kenneth was motionless and silent except for a soft gurgle. Donne waited until the gurgle stopped.

  He rolled Kenneth on his back and dragged him into a sitting position against the dumpster. His face was hamburger and Donne bit his lip to keep from vomiting. He felt a trickle of blood run down his chin.

  Reaching into Kenneth’s jacket pocket, he found an envelope. It was yellow and thick. Donne opened it and flipped through. Ben Franklins. Just like the thick pack he had when they got out of prison. Maybe a hundred of them. Maybe more.

  Kenneth certainly wasn’t broke. Donne pocketed the envelope. A nest egg.

  Then, he pulled the burner phone out. His second burner. The one he hadn’t used yet but figured he’d need after the heist. He flipped it open, accessed the camera and snapped a picture. He opened the picture in a text and wrote, Now I’m in charge, and sent it to the other phone he’d been using. When that phone beeped, he checked to make sure the picture was clear.

  It was.

  He sent picture messages to two different phone numbers.

  Donne destroyed the phone he used to take the photo and made his way back to Herrick’s apartment. As he walked, he took his pulse. It ran at a pace equal to a short jog. The adrenaline that had been coursing through his system had already faded. He didn’t even want a beer. He hadn’t wanted one in almost three days.

  He wondered what had changed in him. Was it prison? Maybe. Running for your life every minute of the day did things to a person.

  But he’d seen so much violence in his life, so many people close to him had died, that prison didn’t affect him.

  Not as much as everything else. It was like all the murders he’d seen, and even the ones he’d committed, had reached inside him and changed his DNA.

  Whatever.

  This was who he was now.

  And this was how he’d accomplish his goals and keep good people from dying.

  His next goal was to break the news to Matt Herrick. Step two.

  DONNE SLIPPED back into the apartment building. He’d used the bathroom in the train station to wash the blood off his hands and shoes. At that time of night, only a few homeless watched him come and go.

  Herrick snapped awake on the couch. That old military instinct that kept you alive when you most needed it to still swirled inside. For a second the air went from Donne. Did Herrick see Kenneth and Donne sneak out together?

  “Is everything okay?” Herrick asked. “Where’s my dad?”

  He looked around the room and shifted his weight on the couch. Sarah turned her head and snuggled deeper into the cushions. Herrick got up and walked over to Donne.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  Donne shook his head. “Not here. Out in the hall. Your mom has to sleep.”

  Herrick followed him into the hallway and closed the door behind them with a quiet click. Donne opened and closed his hands. He blinked a few times. He had to get this right.

  “You okay? You’re shaking.”

  “It’s not good, Matt.”

  “Tell me.” Herrick looked down the hall toward the elevator. “Where is my dad?”

  Donne pulled out the good burner phone and flipped it open. He pulled up the picture of a bloody Kenneth Herrick and took a deep breath.

  “This is really bad,” he said. “At around one in the morning, your dad snuck out to see Elliot Cole. After two hours, I got really nervous and went to see if I could find him. I couldn’t but I got a text from Cole a few minutes ago. It’s bad, Matt.”

  Donne passed the phone to Herrick, who looked at the screen. He immediately recoiled as if he’d been punched.

  “Jesus Christ,” Herrick said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Jesus Christ!”

  Herrick dropped the phone and it bounced across the paisley carpet. Donne leaned over and picked it up. He gave Herrick a minute to catch his breath. Herrick didn’t seem like he was going to puke, and once again Donne noticed that military background.

  This guy had seen some shit.

  “That’s my…” Herrick sputtered. “That’s my…”

  Donne nodded. “Yeah. And it was Cole who sent me this text. Cole did that.”

  Herrick rubbed his face and then shook his head like he was getting water out of his hair. “I barely knew him. Not since I was eighteen.”

  “I know, kid.” Kid? Donne was only a few years older than Herrick.

  Herrick blinked it out, and then looked at Donne. “Are you okay?”

  The words caught Donne off guard. “What do you mean?”

  “He got you through prison. He got you out of prison. You knew him better than I did. To me, he was an asshole who left me out to dry. But to you…” Herrick trailed off.

  Donne took a deep breath. “Your part of this is over now. I’m going to get Cole, and then I’ll be finished also.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Cole is still going to go after the reserve. You know that. Think about it, he had the same pieces as we did. The muscle in Manuel, the military guy in Haskins.”

  Herrick pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have a guy I can call. He works in corrections. Mack. He’ll help.”

  “No,” Donne said. “I want this one.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Jackson.”

  Donne’s stomach muscles knotted. Adrenaline surged through him, which was odd since it barely did when he was with Kenneth.

  “No! Cole is mine. He got us out of that hellhole, but your dad kept me alive. Cole is mine.”

  “You can walk away, Jackson. Start anew. This doesn’t have to be your life anymore. It shouldn’t even be mine. I can go back to coaching. And menial work like peeping on future divorcees. You can start your life over. Let Mack take care of this now. Let’s give him everything we have, and then walk away.”

  Donne shook his head. Electricity ran up his arms. This was not step two. Step two was Herrick breaking down into a puddle of emotion, telling Donne to do what needed to be done and walking away. He wasn’t following the script.

  “Fine,” Donne said. “Call your man.”

  “I have to tell Mom. I have to tell Sarah. I’m supposed to meet with the military police tomorrow to talk about the robbery at the National Guard base.”

  “Fuck.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Donne shook his head. He needed to clear it. He needed to calm down. Maybe going through law enforcement was the smartest move.

  “I need to get out of here.”

  “Stay until the sun comes up. Jackson, you’re not handling this well.”

  Always so damn impulsive. Even when he planned things out, he was impulsive. But Kenneth was crazy too. He was going to ruin them, all in the name of putting his family together. Getting his son in the family business. He should just tell Herrick that. Tell him everything.

  His dad was a bad man, and deserved to die. It was the only way. But the words wouldn’t come.

  “No,” Donne said. “Call your guy. I have to go away. Get a clean start.”

  “Will I hear from you?”

  When this is all over, he thought.

  “Maybe,” he said. “I don’t know.”

  Donne turned to leave.

  He heard Herrick mumble something about his father, and thought about turning back.

  Instead, he kept walking to the elevator. He pressed the button to call it. Behind him, the door to Herrick’s apartment closed. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Donne went down to the street. It was close to five a.m. There were delivery trucks out dropping off bread to some of the restaurants.

  Donne kept walking. He didn’t know where he was going to go, but he knew he couldn’t be in Hoboken when they found Kenneth Herrick.


  ELLIOT COLE closed out the picture message on his phone. He put the phone down and choked back the bile. Manuel’s face didn’t look that bad. He took a breath, pushed himself out of bed and woke Haskins and his partner.

  “We need sleep, Boss,” Haskins said.

  Cole ushered them into the living room and then went to put on coffee. He needed to get the sick taste out of his mouth, and he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping for quite some time.

  When he came back in, Neil was resting his head on Manuel’s shoulder. Cole put the coffee down and sat across from them.

  “Kenneth Herrick is dead. Someone caved in his face.” Cole didn’t show them the picture message. “I’m glad you’re both here.”

  Haskins said, “You didn’t think it was us, did you?”

  Cole cracked his neck and then took a sip of coffee. The bitterness washed away the bile.

  “We are going to have to go bare bones on this one now.”

  Manuel leaned forward, Cole edged away from him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “No more Kenneth means no Matt and no Donne. Those were Kenneth’s guys, and I don’t want them near us. In fact, this can’t go any further.”

  Manuel stood up. The black eye had finally started to clear.

  “What do you mean?”

  Cole licked his lips. “I mean tomorrow, you go over there and you take them all out. Matt, the girl…”

  Manuel breathed in through his nose and clenched his hands into fists. Haskins patted him on the leg.

  “What about Tammy?”

  Cole waited a beat, then said, “Her too.”

  Manuel kicked the table over. The coffee cup flew and brown liquid splattered all over the wall. The ceramic mug shattered, pieces clattering down against the hardwood floors.

  “She is your wife.”

  “And I can’t trust her. She ran from us, Manuel.” Cole stared at the puddle spreading on the ground, some of it soaking into the throw rug. “She knows too much. She’s angry and Matt has her ear. You don’t know what she’ll do. In less than thirty-six hours, we are going to be four of the richest men alive.”