things take time,” he said. “This was only the beginning.” She stopped massaging. Hackett turned to face her.
“You already talked to Carter. He knows you’re serious. He didn’t give you the money the first time you asked. Now he damn well better. And fast.”
“It’s going to take more time. You’re right, he knows I’m serious. But knowing him, he’s going to try and show me he’s serious too. We’re going to have to get to the wife.”
“You still think you’ll need to go through with the whole thing.”
Hackett smiled. “I’m hoping I need to go through with the whole thing.”
“We need the money.” Jill crossed her arms and pouted. “Soon.”
“I know when the plane leaves. We’ll have it by then.” Hackett brushed a blond lock of hair behind her ear. “But things might get worse before then. I want you to go to your mother’s.”
“What? No.” She stepped back from him.
“You have to. It’s not going to be safe here.”
“I want to be a part of this. I want to be there when you get the money.”
Hackett nodded. “I’ll call you. You’ll be in the loop every step of the way. But it’s better this way. You won’t be hurt.”
“This isn’t a good idea.”
He wrapped her in his arms and held her tight. Jill’s hands never touched his back. She kept them at her sides.
“Please,” he said. “I love you.”
“Only if you promise to call.”
“I promise.” He felt her finally return the hug. “Now go pack.” Jill broke the embrace and went up the stairs. Watching her go, Hackett thought it almost felt like he hadn’t blown up a building only hours before. Just another day of marriage.
But the plan was in motion. One more thing had to be taken care of.
Hackett picked up the phone and dialed Delshawn. When the call was answered, all Hackett said was “Make it happen.”
1938
Joe Tenant knew his wife would be worried sick. It wasn’t like him to be this late. He didn’t go out for a drink after the night shift like the other guys. He went home and walked his daughter to school, kissed his wife, and slept for six or seven hours. It wasn’t exciting, but it was his life and that was how he liked it.
After talking to the police, he hoped he could put this behind him and get back to living his life. Three hours had felt like an eternity.
He sat in his car and started it, letting it warm up. The engine rattled and he hoped it wasn’t on the verge of breaking down. While he was lucky enough to have a car in these hard times, he wasn’t lucky enough to be able to afford fixing it.
“Joe Tenant,” a voice behind him said. An Irish brogue, thick and rough.
Before Tenant could turn around, he felt cool metal against his chin. Whoever was behind him was pressing a knife against his skin.
“You saw us, didn’t you? That’s unfortunate for you.”
Tenant had to swallow before he spoke. He felt the saliva curl down his throat and he wondered if it would be the last thing he tasted.
“Who are you?” he asked.
The knife pulled against his skin, and he felt a sharp pain along his jawline.
“Ah, you’re not gonna be asking any more questions, okay?”
“Please,” Tenant said.
“Now, listen to me, and I won’t have to dig this blade any deeper. Do I have your attention?”
“You have my attention,” he said.
“Good. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to go home today, back to your wife, and tell her you love her. You’re going to sleep and you’re going to come back into work tonight. You’re going to live your life, do you understand?”
Tenant said yes, though he didn’t understand at all. “What you’re not going to do,” the Irishman continued, “is go back to the police. You’ll know nothing of this day. It didn’t happen. The police have the body now and their investigation is under way. You did the right thing. But you’re not going to help anymore. You can’t help. You didn’t see anything else. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“We do business a certain way, Mr. Tenant. No one was supposed to find that body. It’s unfortunate it surfaced when it did. And that you were there. And it’s unfortunate you’re going to have a scar from this knife. But let me tell you something: A scar is a small thing compared to what we can do. Have a nice day.”
The back door of the car opened and slammed shut. Tenant rubbed his chin, feeling blood on his fingers.
His family was too important. He was going to keep his mouth shut, and they were going to leave him alone.
Donne cruised over the Passaic River, across Route 21, and got off at Park Avenue. Normally, with traffic it was about a twenty-five-minute drive. Today he was going to make it in twenty, and that felt long. He made the requisite turns and found the little Cape Cod home Faye and George lived in.
He wondered if they would remember him. The next thing he wondered was, what did two senior citizens need a black Cadillac Escalade for? The enormous SUV was parked on the curb outside their house. He parked his car across from it and looked at the open front door. This was not a good sign. He immediately reached in the glove compartment for his Glock, then remembered he didn’t carry it anymore.
One of the changes Donne was going to have to get used to, no longer being a licensed private investigator.
He crept across the front lawn and pressed himself against the gray siding. The grass needed cutting. Envelopes overflowed in the mailbox next to the front door.
He peeked through the slightly open front door but couldn’t see anything except an empty hallway.
The first gunshot sounded like a firecracker. A loud firecracker, but a firecracker nonetheless. Donne hit the dirt because of instinct, but he was immediately on his feet again and moving quickly to the front door. There was no mistaking the second gunshot.
Call the police, he thought. But this was a quiet suburban town. Someone was home and would hear the shots and call the cops. A tall black man dressed in gang colors emerged from the front door as Donne reached for the knob. The man didn’t register Donne, and Donne hit him hard, wrapping him up like a linebacker.
“What
