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  Now, Herrick walked down the driveway into the empty deck. It was late, the bars were closed and the morning commuters hadn’t filtered in. He saw Mack on the other end of the deck, crouched behind an abandoned car. If Donne freaked or ran, Herrick would give Mack a signal, or, hell, even shout for him. Something about Donne’s demeanor made Herrick think of a rabid dog.

  One person wouldn’t be able to take him down.

  “Donne,” Herrick called out. The words reverberated off the concrete walls. “I know you’re here.”

  “I am.”

  The voice came from Herrick’s left, and he turned in that direction. Donne stood there, half covered in shadow. Behind him were only empty parking spots. Herrick wondered how he got in so silently. Wraith-like.

  Donne’s face seemed like it’d been worn down by the wind. Leathery and sharp.

  “You’re safe now, Matt.”

  “You’re scaring me, Jackson. What did you do? What happened?” Herrick let the words spill from his mouth like the last drops in a bourbon.

  “I’m going to go away for a while, but you can find me when you need me.”

  Herrick tilted his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re not going to leave this investigative work. But you won’t do what it takes. You’re going to keep getting yourself in trouble.”

  Herrick didn’t say anything.

  “I know you. You love those kids. The ones who play their hearts out for you. I don’t know what you think, if you’re saving them or whatever, but you won’t give that up either.”

  “No. I won’t.”

  Donne nodded. “So, if that’s the case, there’s no way you’ll go to the ends necessary to get cases finished. Believe me, I’ve been there. I tried to save people, and make sure the bad guys got punished by the system. But sometimes you have to do things. Bad things.”

  Herrick took a deep breath. “What happened to my dad, Jackson?”

  “He’s gone. Cole killed him.”

  Herrick shook his head. “Cole denied it when were in the park.”

  Donne took a deep breath. “You’re safe now. And you’ll need me again, I promise.”

  A tremor went through Herrick’s body. He opened his mouth to call for Mack, but the words didn’t come. Herrick was safe now, whatever that meant. Donne thought he was a savior.

  What did my father do to you in prison?

  Donne’s insides were leather too now, worn down by the grind of life. The life he’d chosen.

  “When you need me, find me. It won’t be hard,” Donne said. “I’ll help you. You’re a good man. You don’t need any blood on your hands.”

  “What did you do, Jackson?”

  Donne turned and headed back toward the street. “Tell your cop friend the money is in Adrik’s basement. Maybe he can get there before anyone else finds it.”

  “What did you do?”

  “You’d better hold on to Sarah too. She’s good for you.” Donne wiped his chin. “When you need me, call me. And you will need me.”

  “Tell me, Jackson!”

  “You’re going to need me, because you can’t stand up for yourself. You won’t do what has to be done. I understand. Say hi to your mom for me.”

  Donne disappeared, leaving Herrick with too many unanswered questions. Seconds later, a beat up Honda Accord sped up Washington Street out of Hoboken. It blew two reds.

  Mack ran up to Herrick.

  “What did he say?”

  Herrick told him where to find the money. Mack shook his head. They had the airport staked out for Adrik. He’d bought multiple plane tickets in his name. No one was at the house all day. He must have waited them out.

  “What about Donne?”

  Herrick didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “I’m going home.”

  He felt hollow inside. He walked away from Mack and headed back to his apartment.

  The streets were so quiet, but you could hear the rats on the basement doors of the shops, making them creak. The wind whistled through the corridors, the building creating a wind tunnel. Herrick ignored them and kept walking. He wasn’t going to call Donne. He dealt with his career his own way.

  As Herrick thought about his father and Donne’s words, a knot formed in his gut. Sarah met him at the door. She took one look at his face and wrapped her arms around him.

  “Are you okay?”

  Herrick nodded. “Will you still be here in the morning?”

  “Of course.”

  “What about next week? A month from now? I love you.”

  “Come to bed,” Sarah said.

  He nodded. The questions could be answered later on. It was time to sleep.

  The Score

  1989

  THE ALARM rang, its wail piercing Tammy’s ears like never before. The gun felt heavy in her arm, and the gurgle in her stomach wasn’t a good sign.

  Three more minutes.

  The tellers behind the glass filled the bags with money while everyone else sat in the corner watching her. Kenneth had killed the manager. There wasn’t a choice. He’d made a move for the gun, and they couldn’t stand for that. They weren’t peaceful bank robbers if people wouldn’t let them be.

  Kenneth was shouting instructions, but Tammy couldn’t focus on them over the rumbling in her gut. The smell of gun smoke was irritating her. She’d never smelled that on a gig before. Usually that shit just dissipated.

  Today was different, wasn’t it?

  The tellers handed over the two duffel bags to Kenneth. They were heavy, and he struggled to sling them over his shoulders. The movements snapped Tammy back into action, and she started shooting out the cameras. The ski masks would protect their identities, but she went and got the tape anyway.

  As they were about to leave, Kenneth whispered to her, “It’s amazing how we’ve gotten away with this stuff.”

  “Here’s to another hundred years, Babe,” she said. Her stomach cramped even more. “We have to go.”

  They hustled out into the street, searching for Elliot’s car. The police sirens were howling in the air, but still far enough off that they’d be long gone.

  If Elliot was there. But Tammy didn’t see the car. Kenneth let a curse go.

  “Where the hell is he?”

  “He’ll be here,” she said.

  “Better be soon.”

  The sirens got louder.

  But not as loud as the squeal of brakes as the Toyota rounded the corner. Elliot leaned on the horn as the car screeched to a halt in front of them. Cole rolled the windows down, and flashed a big grin.

  “Get in,” he shouted.

  Kenneth pulled his ski mask off. “Where the hell were you?”

  “A dramatic entrance. Cool right?”

  “You’re an asshole. Stick to the plan. You made it.”

  Kenneth threw the two duffel bags into the trunk and ran around the passenger seat. He got in. Tammy pulled her mask off, opened the door and turned her head to vomit in the street. The sirens grew louder as her body rid itself of its contents.

  “Are you okay?” Kenneth started to get back out of the car.

  Tammy held up a hand, spit the last bit and said, “I’m fine. I have news.”

  Kenneth tilted his head.

  “Let’s get out of here first.”

  She got in the backseat and fastened her belt. The car jerked out of park and headed toward the nearest highway. Tammy didn’t know Union all that well, so the streets were foreign to her.

  Kenneth turned and looked between the seats. “Are you okay?”

  Tammy grinned. “I am. I have news, like I said.”

  Kenneth nodded to her.

  “We’re having a baby!”

  He went pale, and then he turned to Elliot.

  “Pull over,” he shouted.

  “What?”

  “Pull the fuck over.”

  Elliot did. Kenneth got out of the car and pulled the back door open. He hopped in next to Tammy.

  “Go!”
r />   They peeled back out again as Kenneth wrapped her in his arms. “I can’t believe this.”

  “I took the test this morning.”

  “Why didn’t you…?”

  “I didn’t want to distract you. Not today.”

  He leaned in and kissed her, and she hoped he didn’t taste the vomit. She pulled him close using the collar of his shirt. Elliot said something in the front of the car, but they didn’t hear him.

  “I love you.”

  “You too.”

  “We’re going to be parents. This is…this is…”

  “I know, Ken. I know.”

  Now the scenery familiarized around Tammy. Elliot pulled onto the Parkway South. They were heading toward the shore. Toward her happy place. The summer was here, and living was easy.

  “I hope he’ll be a lefty,” Kenneth said. “We can teach him how to throw a slider.”

  “What makes you think it’s going to be a him?”

  “We’ll teach her how to throw a slider.”

  They laughed. Tammy caught Elliot eyeing them in the mirror. They were going to be a family now. And he was out.

  “Maybe we can teach him the family business,” Kenneth said. “Or her.”

  Tammy sucked in air through her nose. “Don’t joke.”

  “I’m…”

  “You’re joking. That’s how we are going to handle what you just said. No more talk about that.”

  “You can’t smoke anymore.”

  “Nine months without won’t kill me.”

  Kenneth buried his face in her hair. She held him tight, jamming her nails into his back. The two duffel bags rustled next to them as Elliot switched lanes. That would be a good nest egg. Maybe they could go straight now. Clean up their act. The fugitive game was fun when you were in your twenties without a care in the world. But in nine months, life was going to get a lot tougher.

  Tammy’s ear felt wet. She wiped at it. Kenneth pulled away from her.

  “Are you crying?” she asked.

  “I’m so happy. We’re going to raise him right. I promise.”

  Tammy nodded, even though Kenneth couldn’t see her.

  “We have a great support system. Elliot. Adrik. He’ll be okay.”

  Tammy took a deep breath. She looked out at the expanse of road in front of them. No traffic. No sign of the cops. A clean slate. A fresh start.

  “He’ll be more than okay,” she said. “He’ll be better than us.”

  Read other books by Dave White

  This book is dedicated to my good friend and fantastic writer, Duane Swierczynski. I consider Duane a great mentor, and he’s never been shy about his advice for Jackson Donne. In fact, his first suggestion was to kill Donne off in the very first novel, When One Man Dies. Of course, I didn’t listen to that one—good thing. But Duane has always been a great listener, and never too shy to help a writer out. Thanks, man.

  Inspiration comes from everywhere, and Blind to Sin is no different. Two of my favorite writers are the late Robert B. Parker and Richard Stark pseudonym of Donald Westlake. There is so much of the both of them in this book that I’d be remiss if I didn’t point the influence out. If you haven’t read either of them, please put this down and buy their books.

  Big thanks to Jason Pinter and Polis Books. Jason has always believed in my writing and I hope he knows it doesn’t go unnoticed. I am also grateful for my new agent Dara Hyde, whose enthusiasm and patience is contagious.

  My mother, Carol White, and mother-in-law, Eleanore Richard, provided extra sets of eyes on this manuscript. The book is better for it. Thanks a ton.

  I am nothing without Erin and Ben. My wife and son have believed in me, supported me, and loved me. I love them both so much.

  To everyone else who’s taken a chance on any of my books—including this one—thank you all! It means so much to me. I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride.

  Dave White is the Derringer Award–winning author of six novels: When One Man Dies, The Evil That Men Do, Not Even Past, An Empty Hell, and Blind to Sin in his Jackson Donne series, and the acclaimed thriller Witness to Death. His short story “Closure,” won the Derringer Award for Best Short Mystery Story. Publishers Weekly gave the first two novels in his Jackson Donne series starred reviews, calling When One Man Dies an “engrossing, evocative debut novel” and writing that The Evil That Men Do “fulfills the promise of his debut.” He has received praise from crime fiction luminaries such as bestselling, Edgar Award–winning Laura Lippman and the legendary James Crumley. Witness to Death, was an ebook bestseller upon release and named one of the Best Books of the Year by the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel. He lives in Nutley, NJ. Follow him at @dave_white.

  The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in an entirely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Dave White

  Cover and jacket design by Adrijus Guscia

  Interior designed and formatted by:

  www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com

  ISBN 978-1-943818-42-6

  Library of Congress Control Number: forthcoming

  First hardcover publication February 2017 by Polis Books, LLC

  1201 Hudson Street, #211S

  Hoboken, NJ 07030