At Their Own Game (17 page)

“It’s empty,” I said, smiling. “So nice try.”
 

Falkner’s gloat diminished. “Is he right?”
 

The detective nodded. “Yeah. Nothing in it.”
 

Falkner scowled, then shrugged. “Oh, well. I guess we know where to look next time we kick in your door, huh, Stank?”
 

“Fuck you.”
 

Falkner smiled a hard, cold smile. “You get the property on the sheet?” he asked the other detective without looking at him.
 

“Yeah.”
 

“Give him his copy and I’ll meet you back at the station, then.”
 

The detective produced a piece of paperwork, tore off the pink copy and tossed it on the coffee table. Then he turned to leave.
 

Falkner turned to the patrol officer. “Thanks, Sandi. I’ll finish up from here. You can go back into service.”
 

The officer hesitated for a second. Then she turned and followed the detective out the front door.
 

Once we were alone, Falkner took a step closer to me. “This is just the beginning,
Stank
. It’s going to keep on coming. And let me tell you how it’s going to end. It’s
going to end with you in prison.” He jerked his head toward Helen. “The cunt, too, if I can make it happen.”
 

I surged forward but he saw it coming. Before I was even standing, he planted his hands into my chest and sent me sprawling back onto the couch.
 

“Don’t try to be a hero,” he said. “It ain’t you.”
 

Then he turned and walked toward my front door.
 

“Are you kidding me?” I yelled after him. “Undo these cuffs!”
 

Falkner didn’t break stride. He slammed the door behind him.
 

“Son of a
bitch!
” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
 

I stood up and went into the kitchen. After fumbling with the handle, I managed to slide the silverware drawer open. I reached inside and felt around until I found a steak knife. When I turned to go back to the living room, Helen was standing near me.
 

“Turn around,” I said. “And hold out your hands toward me.”
 

She didn’t hesitate. I stepped as close as I could and eased the knife between her wrists. When I felt the saw tooth catch on the plastic of the flex cuffs, I pressed down.
 

“Pull against the knife,” I told her, and began sawing awkwardly back and forth.
 

It only took a minute to get through the hard plastic. Helen’s hands burst free. I gave her the knife and turned around. She cut me loose.
 

I went straight to living room and grabbed the paperwork Falkner had left behind. I ignored the pink property form, which would only list the gun and the jewelry they took. I looked for affidavit of probable cause, but found only a signed copy of the search warrant.
 

I read through the search warrant boilerplate but the information was overly broad. A magistrate found that there was probable cause to believe that I was involved in the crimes of possession of stolen property and trafficking in stolen property and therefore Detective Falkner was authorized to search my person and premises for the same.
 

I cursed quietly. This was no help. I’d need to get a copy of the actual affidavit to see what he was basing his PC on. That would mean going to the courthouse, waiting in line, and paying a fee. Only then could I make a reasonable decision on how to respond.
 

“What’s it say?” Helen asked me, rubbing her wrists.
 

“Shit,” I told her. “It doesn’t say shit.”
 

I went back into the kitchen and poured a stiff drink at the counter. Helen appeared beside me and asked for one, too. I poured her one and we both sat down at the kitchen table. We sipped our whiskey in silence for a long while.
 

Something didn’t add up. I could feel it in my gut. Before Falkner arrived with his warrant, the logical source of that wrongness seemed to be Helen. It had just seemed too perfect, her coming back into my life at this time. And so completely, as if she’d never left. Things like that don’t really happen in real life.
 

But I saw the look of genuine surprise on her face when the cops hit the door. No one could fake that. And she’d come to the hospital, hadn’t she? So maybe I was being cynical about what happens in real life and what doesn’t.
 

Still, something
was
wrong. I suppose Ozzy’s guys could have spotted me sitting off of the store and rousted me. And Falkner could have just been looking for Matt because of the assault warrant. Officer Burke might have just happened to see me on my cell phone and decided to
make a stop. And that detective searching my bedroom could have just gotten lucky and found my secret compartment, even though it was almost undiscernible.
 

But I doubted it. One of the Bond villains put it best when he said that one time is happenstance, twice is coincidence, but three times is enemy action. Something was going on.
 

My mind drifted toward my small crew. Matt and Brent. Could one of them be working with Falkner?
 

I hated to think it was possible, but experience has shown me that anything can happen when someone is staring five years in prison right in the face.
 

Matt.
 

Goddamn it.
 

He got popped. He met with Falkner. He got out early.
 

Do the math.
 

I spun my glass around slowly, thinking.
 

“Jake…” Helen began, but I raised my hand.
 

“Shhhh,” I said, not looking at her.
 

Big, goofy Matt. What could he give Falkner?
 

A lot.
 

Matt did all my in-town hauling. He knew where the storage units were. It didn’t matter that they were under a false name. The facility manager might be able to pick me out of a lineup as the guy who rented the place.
 

If Matt gave Falkner the storage units, it was game over. That, along with his testimony, was enough to sink me.
 

But Falkner didn’t utter a word about storage units when he was in here. And his warrant was only for this house. That didn’t mean he didn’t know about the storage units but the way he’d been gloating, I had a hard time believing he wouldn’t have said something about them. A smart detective would have hit those first. Lower risk,
and it adds a huge boost of probable cause to the warrant for me and the house.
 

No, I decided. Matt didn’t give him the storage units. At least not yet. Or he gave him empty ones.
 

Which brought me back to my first question. Was Matt even working with Falkner?
 

I took another sip of whiskey. The harsh liquid burned my throat and warmed my belly.
 

The fact was, I didn’t know for sure. Something was wrong, but I didn’t know if it was Matt. One thing was sure, though. I’d have to find out, and fast.
 

That brought me to Brent. For the life of me, I couldn’t recall any signs that he might be helping out Falkner. There’d been no indication he’d been in any legal trouble, either. Frankly, I just couldn’t see it happening. Brent was careful. He handled my out-of-town transportation and the short-term loans.
 

I thought about that some more. What if he got popped for possession of stolen property while he was out of town? I might not have heard about it. Local cops where he got arrested might work with the State Patrol or the cops here, if there was a payoff.
 

Was I the payoff?
 

Was I worth it?
 

I took another drink, trying to think like a cop again. How much damage did we do? How big was our criminal footprint?
 

Not big.
 

And cops everywhere have to triage cases. Even if Brent rolled over and showed his belly, would it be worth their time to follow up?
 

No.
 

But it’d be worth Falkner’s time. Anything to do with me was.
 

I could see a scenario where Brent gets passed off to Falkner. That’d get it off the originating agency’s plate without counting as a loss. Or, more accurately, a forfeit. And Falkner would work the hell out of it.
 

But Brent? I just couldn’t see him doing that. He was solid. Loyal. Steady. And too smart to get caught in the first place.
 

I sighed.
 

Couldn’t see him doing it? Or was it that I didn’t want to?
 

I’d have to figure that one out, same as Matt. And just as soon.
 

My telephone rang. I stood and walked slowly into the living room. When I looked at the number, I didn’t recognize it. I hesitated, debating whether to answer it. In the end, I hit
SEND
.
 

“Hello?”
 

“Hello, asshole,” came a female voice.
 

“Who is this?”
 

“Up until she found out what a dick you are, it was your sometimes girlfriend.”
 

I resisted the urge to sigh, and cast a glance toward the kitchen where Helen still sat. “Cleo, I’m really not in the mood.”
 

“I couldn’t care less about your mood.”
 

“I’m hanging up.”
 

“What? And miss hearing about me and your detective friend?”
 

I paused. “What are you talking about?”
 

“Your pal. Kyle Falkner? I thought you might like to know he and I met.”
 

Jesus, when it rains, it fucking pours.
 

I reached up and rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger, wincing slightly when my thumb pressed on
the tender left lid where Damon punched me. “Well, good for you, I guess.”
 

“It was, actually.” Her voice took on a slight purr.
 

We were both silent for a moment. Then I scrunched my brow. “Wait a minute. What are you saying? You fucked him?”
 

She scoffed. “Sure, Jake. I’m the same kind of whore you are, huh? I just fuck anyone. ‘Cause I’m a flight attendant, right?”
 

“Well, that’s what you made it sound like.”
 

“I know. Feel good, did it? To think I was fucking someone else?”
 

“Cleo, stop.”
 

“What’s the matter? Truth hurt?”
 

“Yeah,” I admitted. “It does.”
 

That seemed to surprise her because she didn’t answer right away.
 

I took advantage of the lull to try to get in an apology. She was a decent woman who didn’t deserve to be hurt. And I’m not the kind of guy who goes around hurting women.
 

“Look, Cleo…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
 

“To hell with your sorry.”
 

“I mean it. I didn’t plan this. It just happened.”
 

“Whatever, Jake. Like I told you at your shitty little house, I don’t really care a whole lot. Being made a fool of is the only part that hurts. And I thought that part was over with after I walked in on you and your bimbo. But it wasn’t. There was more to come.”
 

“What are you talking about?”
 

“Your detective friend. He called me at the hotel before I checked out. We met for coffee. He told me about how you got kicked off the force. How you were a corrupt cop. And how you’re a thief now.”
 

“He’s full of shit.”
 

“No, he made perfect sense,” Cleo snapped back at me. “It all fit, everything he said. I was a fool for not seeing it, but I guess that’s my nature. I trust people. Like a fool.”
 

“Cleo, he’s got an axe to grind. That’s all. He’s making things up.”
 

“No, he’s not. You’re exactly who he said you were, Jake. A liar and a thief.”
 

We were silent again for a few moments. I glanced at the doorway to the kitchen again, but it was empty. Apparently Helen was going to wait this one out for the duration.
 

“What did you tell him?” I asked quietly.
 

“Nothing,” Cleo answered. “Because, unfortunately, I don’t know anything. He told me a lot but I didn’t have anything helpful to say in return.”
 

“Good.”
 

“No, it’s not. It sucks. I wish I knew your entire fucking scam, Jake. Because I would tell him everything.”
 

Hell hath no fury, I thought.
 

“Then why are you calling me? Are you trying to warn me about this guy? Because I –”
 

She laughed derisively. “You know, you’re not as smart as you think you are. Warn you? Not even close. I called to tell you I hope this cop arrests your lying ass and throws you in jail. That’s it. That’s the only reason I called.”
 

“He’s trying.”
 

“Yeah? Well, I wish him all the success in the world.” She paused, then said, “You know what? You should probably know the whole truth, since I’m the kind of person who actually does tell the truth. Unlike you.”
 

“Cleo—”
 

“After we had coffee down in the lobby, I did take him back up to my room.”
 

“No, you didn’t.”
 

“I did. We went up to my room and I fucked him. He gave it to me hard, Jake. And you know what? He was better than you. Way better.”