Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One (45 page)

Cathy’s smile
changed slightly, turning slightly more genuine. She stepped up and
took my arm with one hand. “I’ll take it from here boys,” she said
genially to her cameramen. “Thanks for babysitting.”

Kurt nodded
warily but Jimmy frowned, looking back over his shoulder to where
the administrative offices were located. “How did everything go
with the boss?”

“Not now,
Jimmy.“ Cathy’s tug on my arm became very insistent so I complied,
and followed her back to the stairs at the main entrance.

About halfway
there her voice dropped to a whisper. “What the hell happened to
your face?”

I shrugged
minutely. “I wasn’t that pretty to begin with.”

“Who’s dumb
enough to pick a fight with you?”

“Lots of people
are that dumb. I’ll be okay.”

“You look like
hell.”

“I feel like it
too. Don’t worry about it.”

“You fall off
the map for two days, get your butt kicked during that time and I’m
not supposed to worry?”

“I fell off the
map for twelve years. Didn’t see you worrying then.”

“Back then you
weren’t investigating a street gang’s connections to missing women.
If I hadn’t talked to your mother and learned that you were safe at
home I would’ve called the police.”

I winced. “That
would’ve ended badly.”

“What?”

“How much about
Keimac can you tell me that didn’t make the news?”

“Not much. Do
you know something we don’t?”

I shook my
head. “Nothing I can prove. Nothing I even know for sure. But
there’s no way this was some kinda gang initiation thing.”

Cathy nodded.
“That’s what my Police sources are saying as well. But for some
reason this is what the Police Brass are wanting to circulate, and
it’s the story that my boss is insisting we go with.”

“Your source
won’t come forward?”

“Not at this
time.”

“Hence boss
meeting?”

“Pretty much.
He won’t take the chance.”

I paused at the
top of the stairs, my mind racing in time with the conflicting
emotions in my gut.

Cathy’s small
hand touched lightly on my sternum. I blinked down at her.

“You have
cheese dust or something in your beard.”

Shit.

I wiped away at
my face embarrassedly. “Yeah, sorry. I shoulda gotten changed
before rushing over here.”

“Why did you
rush over? We could have talked about this on the phone.”

Huh. I guess we
could have at that.

“I just …” This
is what I get for trying so hard to remain stoic. When I’m looking
for words they don’t wanna come out. “I don’t know. Hearing about
Keimac just … It lit a fire and ….”

Cathy blinked
up at me expectantly.

Shit.

“And I couldn’t
sit on my ass feeling sorry for myself anymore.” Man that sounds
lame. Sounds even lamer when you know it’s true.

Her dimples
smiled up at me faintly. “We have to go. They’re going to begin
pre-taping for the late cast in a few moments.”

I led her
down the stairs out of the studio carefully as my mind whirled.
Images flashing in my brain. Keimac’s face as he pulled the trigger
on me. Aaron and Parise smiling, talking to me in the club after my
release. The wall of victims in the
Posse
hangout.

“Joe? Joe are
you listening to me?”

“Huh?”

She sighed.
“I’ll take that as a no. I was just wondering if you had plans
tomorrow night.”

I blinked.
“Tomorrow night?”

Cathy nodded
and reached into the side pocket of her gym bag. “Max and I were
supposed to go to a Gala Dinner at the Winnipeg Art Gallery
tomorrow but now we can’t make it. Max’s taking me to Calgary
tomorrow morning so he can play golf with his friends and call it
charity work. In exchange I get a weekend away and a full spa
day.”

“Oh. So things
with the Captain, they’re going well?”

Her smile was
wistful as she fished out a pair of tickets, handing them over to
me. “Same as before,” she said sadly, her dimples still showing.
“He’s great, but almost too great to be true. I almost forget what
it’s like to live in a real world when I’m with him.”

I took the
tickets carefully. “Lots of girls would love to escape the real
world.”

“I’m not lots
of girls.”

My turn to
smile wistfully.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I
replied. “You need a lift somewhere?”

She shook her
head. “I’m just parked in the lot. Don’t worry about me.” Cathy’s
eyes met mine shyly for a moment. “Do I need to worry about
you?”

“Nope.”

“You sure? You
have a look on your face like someone about to make a difficult
decision.”

I shrugged.
“People make difficult decisions every day. Go. Enjoy Calgary. Let
the Captain spoil you.”

Cathy smiled
one last time before trotting away over to the TV staff lot
adjacent to the studios.

I watched her
go, making certain she arrived at her Passat safely. I folded the
tickets up and jammed it into the front pocket of my track pants
without really looking at them. Something was already in my
pocket.

It was the note
Mom had handed me after my beer run.

TAMARA CALLED.
MARK IS AT ST. BONIFACE HOSPITAL ROOM FOUR-TWENTY-SEVEN. HE NEEDS
TO TALK TO YOU.

I was in
rushing to my van before I’d finished reading.

Chapter
43

I had wicked
déjà vu while trotting up the steps to St. Boniface Hospital. It
hadn’t been all that long since I’d bribed Cathy with an interview
to help me sneak out of this place, but that wasn’t the déjà vu
that hit me. It was vague, full of rain and thundershowers. Didn’t
make any sense.

I shook my head
out to clear it and jogged through the open doors.

It took me a
few moments to make it past hospital security dressed as I was.
Sadly they were used to turning back derelicts and panhandlers who
would spend hours in the hospital lobby badgering patients and
staff alike for change. I swear, next time I am faced with a
potential crisis I will take the five minutes to shower and get
changed.

Room
four-twenty-seven was in the recovery wing of the hospital. Most
people around here weren’t on life support or anything too
technical thankfully. So the potential to seriously hurt someone
should the machines go all screwy was low, however I still
maintained a firm grip mentally on the tingling sensation at the
back of my neck. Pushing it as far away from my consciousness as I
could while I took the stairs two at a time up to the fourth
floor.

Thankfully the
signage was clear in this wing so finding the room I needed wasn’t
too big a deal. Weaving my way past the occasional nurse and
patient laid up in a hallway I soon found myself in front of the
open door to room four-twenty-seven.

I peered into
the room cautiously as I stepped inside.

Mark lay in the
bed with the sheets up to his chest, sleeping. A bandage wrapped
tightly around his upper left arm, bruising on his face and his
left leg hung suspended in a cast up to his hip.

I winced at the
bruising. Flashes of pain flickering over my flesh in memory.
Miller’s beefy fists. Parise’s sharp knuckles. Blood. Swelling.
Stars.

Get it
together, Joe.

The visitor’s
chair beside the bed was empty save for a tiny coat and handbag.
Tamara’s I figured. Most likely gone for a coffee or something.

I ignored the
chair and stepped up next to the bed.

Do I wake
him?

Shit.

I scratched at
my scruffy beard absently, trying to make some sense of things.

Thankfully,
Mark didn’t make me wait long.

With a sudden
startled breath he shifted position and winced, tried to move his
broken leg in his sleep I figured. That’d wake anybody up. His eyes
fluttered open with a groan as he took in his surroundings quickly.
Seeing Tamara gone he continued around the room until finally
noticing me standing at the foot of his bed.

“Hey,” he
muttered wearily.

“S’up?”

He gave a very
slight shrug. “Not much. You?”

“Same.”

“You look
terrible.”

“That’s
supposed to be my line.”

“Still
true.”

“Been a rough
week.”

“Tell me about
it.”

“You
first.”

Mark took a
deep breath and let it out with a slow sigh.

I waited
patiently at the foot of the bed.

“So, I go into
work last night. Thursday,” he began quietly, looking past me at
the far wall. Collecting his thoughts I figured. Or maybe just
avoiding my eyes. It’s possible I was in my intense stare mode
which tends to throw people off. “Same as the rest of the week.
Don’t think much of it at first. Usual people are hanging around;
David, Big Mike and some of the others. Just shooting the shit and
adjusting ties and whatever.”

“I’m doing a
wander around the main bar and I hear voices coming from
upstairs.”

“The marble
stairs?”

Mark
shook his head slightly. “No man, the ones going up to the bar
office. Aasif’s office. Anyways, I’m hearing voices and they don’t
sound pleasant. Real argument going on. So I go to the bottom of
the steps, trying to eavesdrop carefully. You know how it is,
people want your help only when
they
want it, right?”

I nodded.

“So, I’m at the
bottom of the steps and I hear Shelby arguing with Aasif. Trying to
get settled up on her paychecks before she leaves, saying how she
never shoulda kept working at the club. How things had gotten scary
and stuff. They’re going back and forth. Finally Shelby has enough,
flat out quits and storms out of the office down the stairs to me,
Aasif right behind her trying to be all reasonable.”

“Awkward time
to be caught eavesdropping.”

“I know right?
I thought I was gonna get called an asshole or something.”

“Wouldn’t be
the first time.”

“Fuck you.”

I gave my small
smile and motioned for him to continue.

“Shelby passes
me by without a word and then stops, turns back and says I should
quit too before I got the same thing that Joe did. That you did.”
He rubbed his free right hand over his face for a moment. “Said
‘better watch your ass, Mark before they beat you up like they did
Joe the other night.’ Then she turned and left.”

Damn.

“Didn’t know
Shelby cared.”

“Swinging way
over your head with that one, man.”

No shit.

“The hell you
say. She’s into me.”

Mark adjusted
slightly in his bed, trying to sit up a bit then gave up with a
groan. “I grab Aasif’s arm, ask him about what she said. He brushes
me off, says I gotta talk to Aaron and chases off after
Shelby.”

My guts started
twisting, anticipating the rest of the story.

“You talk to
Aaron?”

Mark shook his
head again. “I didn’t see him. Went upstairs, the marble stairs
this time. Ran into the cop guys coming out of the fancy
doors.”

“Which
ones?”

“Frenchy and
the ape.” Parise and Miller. “I try to get past them, tell ‘em I
need to talk to Aaron. They stop me, ask what I want to talk to him
about. I tell ‘em. Next thing I know the ape has got me against the
wall, his arm in my throat. He’s yelling at me and Parise’s trying
to pull him off. One thing leads to another and I take a tumble
down the stairs.”

My guts stopped
twisting and just fell right out of me, down past my boots.

Shit.

“Dude.”

“Yeah.”

“I … I’m so
sorry man.”

Mark’s face
twisted into a grimace. “Me too.”

“I shoulda told
you what happened to me.”

“Yeah. You
should’ve.”

“I didn’t think
it through.”

“Well … what
can you do?”

What
can
I
do?

Silence.

“Joe?”

“Yeah?”

Mark cleared
his throat wetly. “What the fuck is going on?”

And that
was
still
the ten thousand
dollar question.

I ran both
hands through my curly mop with a frustrated sigh. “Honestly, man.
I truly am not sure.”

“But you have
an idea, right? I mean, they didn’t kick the hell out of you and
pitch me down a flight of stairs for nothing.”