Street lamps illuminate parts of the sidewalk like spotlights on a stage. In the shadows is a man's silhouette, but when he steps into the light, I can see his jacket collar turned up, guarding his face against the drizzle. Every few steps, he disappears into the darkness, then reappears under another street lamp further ahead.
It's just too bad Evan has no idea I'm watching him with binoculars or that Sammy is following behind him in an SUV, ready to snatch him.
He thinks he's meeting Chloe for drinks, but she's just the bait.
When I told her about the photos of Evan with the detectives, her porcelain skin turned even more pale, and she looked like she was going to vomit on my sneakers. Without hesitation, she agreed to ambush him.
So now here we are.
Evan looks both ways before stepping into the street and raises his hand to hail his Uber, a.k.a. Sammy. He has no idea that two of Sammy's men are waiting in the backseat for him, and I can see the surprise in his body language when he opens the back door. However, he doesn't have time to question anything because he's yanked inside the SUV, and Sammy speeds off.
I type out a text to Angie.
Me: I'll be late for supper tonight.
∆∆∆
The basement of this secret mob house is dark and cold, with only one lamp shedding light. I stand in a corner, bathed in shadows, with my back pressed against the masonry. Evan sits in a chair in the middle of the room, his arms tied behind his back and a pillowcase over his head. He jerks this way and that way when Sammy pulls up a chair, the legs screeching against the cement floor.
"What do you want!?" he shouts, but Sammy ignores him and presses the barrel of his gun to Evan's thigh.
"Do you know what this is?"
"No..."
Sammy clicks off the safety. "It's a gun with a silencer pressed at an angle to shoot right through your kneecap. So we're going to play a game where I ask a question, and you answer. If you lie to me, I pull the trigger. Got it?"
"Why are you doing this!?"
"No, no. I'm the one asking the questions," Sammy tuts. "Why have you been speaking to the cops? And think very carefully before lying to me."
"I haven't!"
Sammy sighs, "Wrong answer, Evan. I'm giving you the count of three to tell me the truth. Why have you been meeting with Detective Shapiro and Detective Archibald?"
"Fuck you, asshole!"
BANG.
I flinch as a bullet ricochets off the basement floor, and Evan screams.
"That was a warning," Sammy says. "The next one blows off your knee. One... two..."
"They ambushed me!" Evan exclaims.
"Where?"
"Outside of my therapy group."
"When?"
"About eight months ago."
My breath hitches at his reply, and my back goes completely rigid. Eight months? That was way before this whole thing with the Sisters began. Something doesn't add up, and I'm more confused now than before.
"Why did they approach you?" Sammy asks. "What do they think you know?"
"I don't know, man! They asked about what happens at my work, but I don't know shit about no cocaine getting passed around the construction site."
"So they were digging for dirt. They thought you would know who the supplier is, but why you?"
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do, Evan. Think of your kneecaps." Sammy taps one with his gun.
"I don't know why, ok? My boss is good to me. We hang out sometimes, and he's had me over for dinner. I've heard rumors that drugs get exchanged at my work, but like I said, I don't know shit. I clock in and keep my head down. Eventually, the detectives left me alone because they realized I didn't know anything!"
"But then they came back a few weeks ago." Sammy grinds the tip of the gun barrel into Evan's knee. "Didn't they?"
"Ouch! Fuck."
"What did they want, Evan?"
"They came back with some bullshit story about a bunch of my best friends. They said they were involved with the Abramovitz family in some turf war between them, the Reddys, the Hellions, and the Cartel. As if I'm supposed to believe that."
"And what did they want from you, Evan?"
"They brought up the whole cocaine thing again and said my boss is in deep with the Hellions. They connected a few dots back to some of my friends, but I don't know shit, and I'm not some rat. So fuck you."
"Then what have you been telling them?"
"What?"
"I've got photos of you speaking with those detectives several times. So you must be telling them something." Sammy wraps his palm around the back of Evan's neck and squeezes so hard that Evan cries out. "Don't lie to me."
"Fuck! I'm not lying. I swear on my daughters."
"On your daughters?" Sammy barks and tosses a glance at me.
Oops. I should have told Sammy that Evan is a father. The old man has a soft spot for single dads. Especially ones with daughters, since he has a few of his own who barely speak to him.
Evan continues, "I don't know anything, and I haven't told them anything."
"Then why do you keep meeting with them?"
"I don't! They ambush me on the street. They told me if I worked with them, they would put in a good word during my next court hearing since I'm fighting for equal custody of my daughters. But I'm not a rat."
"I think you're lying!" Sammy tightens his grip on the back of Evan's neck. "What have you told them?"
"Nothing. I swear! They asked me about my friend Miguel. What his connections are. How he knows the Abramovitz. I told them they were insane because Miguel had never heard of them. His own girlfriend started working for them, and he had no idea who they were."
Sammy glances at me over his shoulder again, and I nod. Evan is telling the truth. He has no idea about my involvement with the Sisters. I just didn't know their surname the night Mindy announced she was hired to plan their fancy party. So he thinks I don't know them at all.
Sammy turns back to Evan. "But that clearly didn't shake the detectives loose. Why?"
"They have this theory about Miguel being involved with the Abramovitz and the Cartel, but not just him. They've got their eyes on our entire group."
"And then what happened?"
"They wanted me to find out what he knows, but there is no way I'm ratting out my friends. Every time they ambush me for information, I tell them I haven't been able to get anything. They wanted me to wear a wire, but I told them to fuck right off."
"So let me get this straight," Sammy says. "You agreed to be an informant so they would help you with your custody battle, and you expect me to believe you've been lying to the cops?"
"I didn't agree to shit!" Evan shouts. "They keep bombarding me. At work. At the grocery store. When I'm at the damn park with my kids."
Something in my gut twists like a wet towel being wrung dry. I want to believe Evan, but the night Chloe murdered Barry, he wanted to go to the cops. So how can I trust that he isn't in cahoots with the detectives? Especially when they offered to help him with his custody battle?
Despite Sammy telling me ahead of time to stay quiet and not reveal myself, I step out of the shadows.
"Why did you suddenly want to help us find Alma?" I ask, and Sammy's head swings my way, warning me to be quiet, but I hold up my hand and continue. "Why did you come to me that night I was on the steps of my apartment?"
"Mi... Miguel?" Evan stutters.
"Were you trying to collect dirt, showing up with those flyers you made?"
"Miguel, what the hell is going on here?" He jerks around in the chair. "Did you set me up?"
"Answer me!"
Without thinking about Sammy, I yank the pillowcase off Evan's head, exposing us. He blinks, trying to adjust his eyes to the bright light above us. Then his gaze goes from me to Sammy and back again.
"Where am I?"
"That's not important," Sammy says. "You haven't answered Miguel's question."
Evan's eyes water. "We're supposed to be friends. Why would you ambush me and bring me here to be questioned at gunpoint!?"
"Yes, we are supposed to be friends," I finally say. "Yet, that night at Chloe's, you stormed off and stopped talking to us. Then, all of a sudden, you show up at my place, wanting to help us find Alma, and then apologize for how you reacted at Chloe's. So how can I not be suspicious of your intentions when I'm presented with photos of you talking to the cops?"
"I haven't told them anything."
"They're trying to pin Mindy getting shot and her ex-husband's death on me. Did you know that?"
Evan looks me in the eyes, pleading. "I told them there is no way you were involved, but they keep pressuring me. They want me to get you to confess while they listen on a wire. They threatened to make my custody battle worse if I don't."
"Damn cops..." Sammy mutters.
I step back, running my hands over my head, and blow out a breath. My thoughts are swimming against rogue ocean waves, and I'm capsizing with doubt. How can I trust Evan?
But this is Evan.
My friend.
The guy who's couch I've slept on after late-night drinks. The one who taught my ass how to snowboard in Lake Tahoe. He's the same dude who offered me his shoulder to lean on when I was at my lowest with Celia. We met and became friends before Jackson, and I did. Evan was my solid rock whenever life kicked me in the balls.
For fucks sake, I've even gone to his daughter's ballet recital because he didn't want to go alone after finding out his ex had a new boyfriend, and they would be there together.
But what if none of that matters to him when threats are made against his kids?
I'm not a father, thanks to Celia's cunty ass, but if someone tried to fuck over my ability to see my children, I'd shake hands with the devil to protect them.
Stepping back into the light, I ask, "So, did you agree to record me while they listen?"
"I was going to warn you." Evan's eyes pool over with tears. "Tell you everything so we can figure out how to fool them."
It's a punch to the gut, and a low gasp escapes my mouth. So he did agree to wear a wire and record me. But there is something I need to know. "Do you think I planned Richie's death and shot Mindy?"
He shakes his head. "I know you'd never hurt Mindy."
Another punch to my gut. "But you think I killed Richie?"
"You helped Chloe cover up Barry's murder. It's not farfetched to think you'd help Mindy kill her ex."
"Fuck you, Evan." I step back.
Because, yes, I did kill that abusive, wife-beating piece of shit, and I'd do it again, but I didn't plan it. In fact, I needed him alive so he would tell me about what's going down at the party, but Richie had to be Richie, and go psycho on Mindy. I killed him to protect her.
But that's not the point. The point is, my friend thinks I'm some orchestrating murderer.
"Did you do it?" he asks again.
Shaking my head, I say to Sammy. "I can't trust him."
Sammy raises his gun and aims it at Evan's forehead. "What do you want me to do with him?"
"Miguel, please, no," Evan cries. "Think of my girls."
"Let him go." I look away. "I have nothing more to say to him."
"You don't, but I do." Sammy bends and grabs a fistful of Evan's hair, forcing him to look at him. "You've seen my face. I've seen yours. If I get a whiff of cops on my tail, I will come for you and bury you alive in cement. Understand?"
I don't stick around for whatever other threats Sammy makes. Instead, I exit the house and go home to Angie.
But when I arrive at the apartment, I'm met with the warm aroma of dinner, the scorch of Angie's glare, and the unwelcome presence of my mom and Steve.
Bloody hell. What now?
*
*
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This chap is a little short. I entered this book into the Wattys under, and I forgot that one of the rules for ongoing books is you have to post weekly leading up to the Shortlist being announced. I think you're only allowed 2 missed weeks, and I already missed one, so... I rushed to get this chapter out lol.
See you in the next update ❤️