Into the Fire (16 page)

Murphy turned to look at her. “You know Dave Malkoff from Troubleshooters?” he asked.

“Um,” she said.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

L
AS
V
EGAS
, N
EVADA

W
elcome to Las Vegas.

If Izzy squinted his eyes and tried really hard, he could pretend that this was just another road trip with the guys.

He never brought more than two hundred dollars with him when he came to the City of Sin—and that included the money he’d spend on his share of a hotel room and all his meals, to boot. He knew himself well enough to limit, financially, the amount of fun he had.

Still, he usually ended up coming home with at least as much in his pocket, if not actually more.

Vegas was, to him, a shiny, lucky, happy-fun-place.

But today his pockets were nearly empty and here in Lopez’s hybrid car—it was not for nothing that Lopez’s first name was Jesus—it was grim to the nth degree. Although, the grimosity that enshrouded them wasn’t just because Izzy and Gillman were sharing the barely-there backseat.

Just outside of Barstow, Jenkins had gotten a call from his wife Lindsey, who worked for Tommy Paoletti’s Troubleshooters.

“Whoa, shit,” he’d said into his cell phone. “No, I hadn’t heard. That’s…He’s really dead?”

“Who’s dead?” Gillman sat forward to ask.

“Hang on, Linds,” Jenkins told his wife, turning to announce to the entire car, “Timothy Ebersole, the leader of the Freedom Network, was found with a bullet in his head.”

No way.

“That’s old news,” Gillman scoffed. “I read about it last Friday.”

“And you didn’t throw a party?” Izzy asked. At Gillman’s dark look, he added, “What? We all want to do a happy dance because the motherfucker’s dead. Why pretend we don’t?”

Tim Ebersole had believed in Amerika, the land of the free white Christian male and the not-so-free everyone else. He believed wholeheartedly in white supremacy, a national tax-supported religion, and control through hatred and division. Although he’d never quite made it onto the watch-list, he was believed to be a bubba—a terrorist of the homegrown variety. He’d written and distributed countless instruction booklets on how to create explosives from fertilizer and other handy household items. And his website spewed more than just bullshit. The Freedom Network site often posted personal information—addresses and phone numbers—of people whom they hated. People, including children, that they were targeting—although they never told their followers to wreak vengeance in so many words.

Still. All it took was one crazy with a gun.

“He
was
kinda like Hitler, lite,” Jenk pointed out before going back to his phone call with Lindsey.

“Timmy E. was a Holocaust denier,” Izzy said. “Shit, I love saying that.
Was.
And that was when he wasn’t extolling the virtues of the Nazis’ Final Solution. I mean, Holy Heil, Timbo, you can’t have it both ways. You know, if he could’ve, he would’ve kicked Lopez back to Mexico, forget about the fact that he was born in the United States. Citizen, smitizen.”

Lopez glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “My father’s from Puerto Rico. My mother is, too, but she was born in Queens.”

“No shit, florecita,” Izzy said. “But to little Timmy Ebersole, you speak Spanish so you must be a fucking Mexican. Go fart your refried beans south of the border, mojado.”

“Jesus, Zanella.” Gilligan was disgusted.

“
I’m
not saying that.” Izzy was beyond sick of having to explain himself to this asshole. “That’s what Ebersole would’ve said. Before he got his ass killed. And again, I’ll say
yay.
Although, frankly, I wish he’d been struck dead by a bolt of lightning. I realize God works in mysterious ways, but IMO, this wasn’t a time for him to be subtle.”

“I don’t know how long we’ll be in Vegas,” Jenk said into his phone. “But you know, Lopez is here, so if I need to fly back…” He paused. “I’ll ask, but…” He sighed. “Thanks, Linds, I know. You, too. I’m really sorry about…Yeah. I love you.”

“We love you, too, Lindsey,” Izzy said in his best Cookie-Monster voice, but Jenk had already hung up. “Ow!” Gillman had whacked him in the chest with his fist, and Izzy rubbed himself now, indignantly. “What the fuck, Dan? We’ve got hours to go. What, do you want to ride in silence?”

“Yes,” Gilligan said. “Yes, I want to ride in silence.”

“Well, tough shit,” Izzy said, “because I don’t. Last time I checked, this wasn’t a monarchy and you weren’t king of anything but your own dick.”

“Guys,” Jenkins said.

“Yeah, well, who slept with whose sister and got her pregnant?” Gillman came back.

“Guys,” Jenkins tried again.

“Well,” Izzy said, ignoring Jenk as completely as Gillman did. “Let’s see. I don’t
have
a sister, so
that
wouldn’t be me, although…Jenkins does and she’s married with kids so…” He drew the word out and then gasped, as if he’d just figured it out, and announced, all in a rush, “Jenkins’ brother-in-law slept with Jenkins’ sister and got her pregnant.”

Gillman hit him again.

“Ow! Mom, Danny hit me. Twice.”

Jenk was shaking his head in disgust. “Zanella, are you
trying
to piss Dan off?”

Anything to keep from thinking about Eden. Waiting there in Vegas. Although no way could she be as spectacular as Izzy remembered. She was, after all, six months pregnant. Except, there were currently a rash of pregnancies among the wives of quite a few SEALs in Team Sixteen. Meg Nilsson was pregnant again. As was the senior chief’s wife, Teri.

Izzy had always found Teri Wolchonok attractive, but now? She was unbe
liev
ably hot. It didn’t take much for him to picture Eden in the same kind of loose-fitting dress that Teri had worn to Tommy Paoletti’s latest cookout. With Eden’s hair down around her shoulders, and the breeze pressing that dress against the swell of her belly and full breasts, all round and ripe and radiant and soft and…

He realized that Jenk was looking at him. Uh, what was the question? Was he trying to piss off Gilligan?

“Maybe a little,” Izzy confessed. “Maybe we should have a bonding sing-along.
The road is lo-ong, with many a winding turn…?”

“Shut
up,
Zanella,” Gillman spat.

“Not an Osmond Brothers fan? How about a little Carole King?
When you’re down and troubled, and you need a helping hand…”

Lopez looked at him again in the rearview. He put an edge into his normally soft-spoken voice. “Stop. Both of you.”

That shut Izzy up. Although it might be mildly entertaining to see if they couldn’t actually get Jay-Lo to shout at them.

Danny appeared willing to go for it. “I’m not the one who—”

Lopez cut him off. “Dan. Take a deep breath and think, okay? Izzy’s got to be totally freaking out. I think he’s doing pretty well, considering. Try to step back from the fact that this is your sister—”

“I can’t,” Gilligan said bitterly. “Believe me, I’ve tried to step back from the fact that she’s my sister for years.”

Izzy shook his head in disgust. “And no doubt Eden’s well aware of that. Did you try to
step back
from her when she was fourteen, when she got in way over her head with a guy who was older and should’ve known better? There’s a word for what happened to her, by the way. It’s called statutory rape.”

Gillman stared at him.

“Where were you then, Dan?” Izzy pushed him.

Gillman came back to life. “Talk about older and should’ve known better!”

“We’re not talking about me, but if we were, I’d cop to every mistake I’ve ever made, and yeah, I’ve made a shitload—including that night with Eden,” Izzy said, staring Gillman down. “But we were talking about you. Where were
you
?”

Gillman looked away first. He was gone, was the answer and Izzy knew it. Gilligan had escaped into the Navy, leaving his kid sister behind to fend for herself.

“And what the fuck were you doing,” Izzy said, more gently now, “bringing her back to your mother’s place in Vegas?”

“Where else was I going to take her?” Gillman asked. “She can’t exactly bunk with me on base.”

“Yeah, but
Vegas
?”

Eden had said that their stepfather was raging crazy.

Which was one of the reasons why Izzy was so anxious to see her. To make sure she wasn’t being held against her will. Although what he’d do if she was, he wasn’t quite sure.

“So you’ll cop to your mistakes,” Gillman said, his hostility level rising again, “but are you going to take responsibility for them?”

Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick. “May I state for the record,” Izzy said, “that if, by some miracle of impregnation via wishful thinking, I
did
manage to knock up your sister, I
will
take full responsibility.”

“So you’re saying you didn’t touch her,” Gillman said.

Izzy sighed. That silence thing was starting to seem like a good idea. “I’m saying, yes, if I’m the father, I will take responsibility.”

“Which means what? That you’ll marry her?”

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “All right? I’ll marry your fucking sister.” Okay, that came out wrong, and Gillman once again was on the verge of hitting him.

Lopez raised his voice. “Stop. Being. Assholes.” It wasn’t quite a shout, but it was damn close.

“Lindsey wanted me to ask you guys a favor,” Jenkins broke the stunned silence that followed. “Do you remember Vinh Murphy? Former Marine who used to work for Tommy at Troubleshooters?”

“Big guy,” Lopez said, back to using his inside voice. “Nice guy. Part Vietnamese. Part African American. Looks kinda like Tiger Woods, but super-sized.”

“He’s the one whose wife was killed by that nutjob shooter,” Izzy remembered. “Angelina.” He’d only met Vinh Murphy a few times, and had never met the man’s wife, but he would never forget her name. That had been bad, bad shit that went down that day. The news of her death had rippled like a shockwave throughout the entire SpecWar community.

“That’s him,” Jenk said. “He’s wanted for questioning. FBI thinks he might have something to do with Tim Ebersole’s death. Apparently, Murphy blamed the Freedom Network for Angelina’s murder.”

There was silence in the car for several long moments.

Danny, ironically, broke it. “Does Lindsey think Murphy did it?” he asked. “You know, shot Ebersole?”

Jenk shook his head. “She doesn’t know. She hasn’t seen the guy in years. He’s pretty much gone dark—nobody knows where he is. Tommy’s looking to find him before the FBI does, and Lindsey says he needs all the help he can get. That’s the favor. This is not a paying gig,” he added. “They’re all going off the clock for this one. Linds knows we’ve got a few days free so…”

“I’m in,” Izzy said.

“Anything to get away from Eden, huh?” Gillman snarked.

Izzy looked at him in renewed disbelief. “I’m the one who asked to go see her, dickhead.”

“I’m in, and Danny is, too,” Lopez said quietly. “Because if I were Murphy? I would’ve gone after that motherfucker Ebersole years ago. I would have put him down like a rabid dog.”

Damn,
Lopez. Tell us how you really feel.

“If they find proof that Murph did this,” Lopez continued, “or even if they don’t? They’re going to put out a BOLO and they’re going to label Murphy armed and dangerous, and some frightened rookie is going to shoot him on sight, because he’s big and he’s black and yeah, he’s probably carrying. So let’s find him before that happens, okay?” He looked at Izzy and Gillman in the rearview. “That work for you guys?”

“Yeah,” Izzy said.

Gillman nodded, too.

And with Murphy and Angelina on all of their minds, they did manage to ride in silence for the last few hours.

Izzy even managed to sleep, waking only as Lopez pointed the car toward the glitter of the casinos and the main strip. But then, at Gilligan’s instruction, he turned onto a tired looking street, lined with tired looking houses, circa 1969.

Izzy couldn’t keep from singing, but he kept it quiet. “
Here’s the story, of a man named Brady…”

It was totally Brady-Bunch-land, except Greg and Peter had become heroin addicts, Bobby gambled and chain-smoked, Marcia was in jail for killing her abusive fifth husband, and Cindy moonlighted as a call-girl when Jan got too drunk to work as a pole dancer.

Izzy first thought they were taking a shortcut, but then Lopez pulled up in front of a house that had one of its front windows covered by a big sheet of plywood. Shards of broken glass glittered on the parched dirt out front.

“God damn it, Eden,” Gillman swore, getting out of the car and running toward the house. Jenk was on his heels.

Izzy followed more slowly.
This
was where Gillman’s parents lived? Lopez was right behind him, and Izzy turned to say, sotto voce, “I thought Gilligan came from some serious money.”

“That’s what he wants people to think,” Lopez said just as quietly. “Business was bad for years, and then they lost everything in Katrina. Their entire store in New Orleans was destroyed, all the inventory gone…They didn’t have the right kind of insurance. They couldn’t even go bankrupt, what with the changes in bankruptcy laws. That’s why Danny’s been living on base. He’s helping his mom pay off the debt and he’s chipping in rent on this palace, making sure his little brother has a roof over his head.”

“Shit,” Izzy said, stopping short on the pitted concrete path that led to the sagging front screen door. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, yeah, man.” Lopez’s eyes were somber. “You never talk to him. You just talk
at
him.”

Ouch.

“His current stepfather’s useless,” Lopez continued. “In fact, he’s worse than useless, the way he’s always picking fights with Eden. And now…” He shook his head. “None of them have health insurance. Danny’s been applying for credit cards, pretty much nonstop since he got back from Germany. He figures that’s the only way he’s going to be able to pay Eden’s hospital bills. You know, labor and delivery. God forbid she or the baby have any complications.”

Damn.

“I didn’t get her pregnant, Jay,” Izzy told his friend. “I didn’t. Please don’t tell anyone this—especially not Gillman, it’s none of his business—because we kinda did get to third base. But that was it, I swear. Eden was…It was payback. Her ex treated her like shit, and I was handy and…I tried saying no, but…” He squinted in the heat and glare of the afternoon as he looked up from the sparkle of that broken glass in the dirt, down the row of ugly-ass houses, with dead weeds and cars up on blocks littering the yards. He forced himself to meet Lopez’s patient gaze and confessed, “I didn’t try very hard. I really liked her, man. Wait ’til you meet her, she’s…Spectacular. Even now, I’m feeling a little light-headed at the idea of walking in there and seeing her again.”