Harvestland

TWENTY-FOUR

Andrew Daly's bedside phone woke him up around midnight. He thought about ignoring it but knew it might be work. He leaned over the edge of the mattress that lay directly on the floor and clumsily picked up the receiver.

"Yeah."

"Andrew. Caitlin. Got one for you."

"It's late."

"Well, my client's at the shelter right now. Scared out of her mind. Her guy needs taking care of, if you're up for it."

"For you, Caitlin, anything."

"You'll love this one. Client broke it off with her abusive beau, started dating a nice guy, and now she's cheating on him with the abusive beau."

"Of course she is."

"And as you can imagine he's hardly reformed. This one's real bad. Broke her jaw with a flashlight once. Punched her in the face another time, busted all these capillaries around her eye. Found out she was pregnant months back, pushed her down the stairs and caused her to miscarry. That's all on top of the usual—stalking, controlling, threatening."

"All right, give me his info." He grabbed the small notepad and pen he kept next to the receiver as he took down all she told him.

"And Andrew?"

"Yeah."

"Hospital, not the morgue."

Well, it wasn't exactly work. Not legit work at least. Before long he was standing outside in the shadows beside an apartment building not far from downtown. He wore dark jeans and a black leather jacket and much of his long hair covered his face. Most importantly he wore gloves.

He checked the plates of a passing car and matched it up to the one Caitlin had given him. It was a beat-up old Volvo and it pulled noisily into the parking lot. When the driver got out he walked leisurely toward the sidewalk and the awning at the front of the building. He looked mildly buzzed and Andrew wished the universe had done everyone a favor and killed him on his way over here.

He even looked like a fucking asshole, shades clipped to the collar of his shirt like a douche. He had some pretty boy haircut and a well-groomed half-beard, looked like he spent some time at the gym.

Andrew made like he was walking into the parking lot as the guy was walking out and faked an accidental shoulder bump. The guy spun around.

Andrew's smile was a charmer. "Hey, my bad, man. Hey, wait, man, you're Robert Lawson, right?"

"Uh...yeah, bruh. That's right. We know each other?"

Positive ID. And he was a bruh guy. This would be fun. Andrew said, "Didn't we go to high school together? I'm Dominick. Dominick Stacconi. Dom. You remember."

"Uh...yeah, yeah, man, that's right, Dom, how you been?"

"Been all right. Listen, I gotta run, but you take care, man."

"You too, bruh. Peace."

Robert walked on and Andrew didn't waste time. He picked up an aluminum bat he had leaning in the shadows against the building and walked over to Robert's car. With a quick scan for witnesses he reared back and busted out the driver's side window. He followed up with the backseat window and front windshield and by this time Robert had run back from the sidewalk and was lumbering over to Andrew. "What the fuck—!"