Jake's just had dinner at Dion's, a close friend of his uncle's and a guy Jake had a fling with --
_____________
I nodded, got in my car and headed back to the townhouse. I had to drive through a section where the streetlights had been turned off, making it seem even darker than it already was. Probably done to save the city some money. There wasn’t much traffic and the whole feeling was one of wariness and fear. I cranked up the stereo to blast it away and let my brain start digesting what I’d learned, so far.
Everybody liked my uncle, but no one seemed to know much about him. And while they were concerned about him being gone, it wasn’t like it was a surprise to anybody. It’s like they all truly felt he’d done a runner in the face of the statutory rape charge. Even people who knew him better than I did. I just could not wrap my head around that idea. If there's anything my mother was right about, it's that my uncle’d work out an itinerary down to the minute, not to talk about it but so he’d know what he was doing from one moment to the next. He wouldn’t vanish for three months without telling anyone. And he was not the kind of guy who'd back down in the face of what was really legal blackmail. People should be alarmed.
Yeah, he didn’t share a lot, but he wasn’t that secretive. He was just precise about everything he did or didn’t want to do. Even his handwriting was precise; you could read every word without question while mine was hard as hell to figure out. But there was no suggestion of him making any plans or not being able to handle the situation over the DA’s accusations. At least, I didn’t think so.
Of course, what that reminded me of how I knew very little about him. I didn’t know if he had a lover. I didn’t know how he made a living. I didn’t know what kind of food he liked or what his goals were or anything. Even his problems with the DA were shrugged off with a simple text message. It made me feel...I dunno...lost and confused...and, to be honest, dismissed. Like I couldn’t be trusted. And yet, he’d sent me a key and his security code and a cryptic message that didn’t specifically ask me to do anything, expecting me to do something.
“Shit, he and Tone’re almost twins,” I muttered. Maybe I should call him to find out how Uncle Owen thought. Yeah, that'd work great and -- .
Flashing lights rolled up behind me and I was beckoned over. Which didn’t make any sense. I wasn’t speeding, and I hadn’t even passed a traffic light. And since this was a rental car, I could be pretty sure all the lights worked. So what was going on?
I glanced around. We were in the middle of nowhere, with no traffic. Street lights still off. Me, alone in a place I didn’t know. Shit. I flashed back to that night that motherfucking Deputy Sheriff, Nussewald, set me up. Busted me on a bullshit charge. Chucked me in jail for a year and a half. Fucked up my life. And all because I made his “favorite cousin” own up to damaging a city-owned sedan.
What that showed me was, cops’ll use a bogus traffic stop as an excuse to get at you, if they want you. But why would they be doing that with me? I’d only just got here. The first thing my paranoid fantasies settled on was, they were watching Dion’s home. But why? I hadn’t messed with anybody, yet.
Except those two cops at Uncle Owen’s. Oh, holy fucking shit. Here it was – those cops were getting some back, from me. This was going to be the same situation as with Nussewald. I could just feel it.
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I couldn’t hand that, again. Shit. I’d kill somebody if they tried that with me, again.
I’d fucking kill somebody.
_____________
I nodded, got in my car and headed back to the townhouse. I had to drive through a section where the streetlights had been turned off, making it seem even darker than it already was. Probably done to save the city some money. There wasn’t much traffic and the whole feeling was one of wariness and fear. I cranked up the stereo to blast it away and let my brain start digesting what I’d learned, so far.
Everybody liked my uncle, but no one seemed to know much about him. And while they were concerned about him being gone, it wasn’t like it was a surprise to anybody. It’s like they all truly felt he’d done a runner in the face of the statutory rape charge. Even people who knew him better than I did. I just could not wrap my head around that idea. If there's anything my mother was right about, it's that my uncle’d work out an itinerary down to the minute, not to talk about it but so he’d know what he was doing from one moment to the next. He wouldn’t vanish for three months without telling anyone. And he was not the kind of guy who'd back down in the face of what was really legal blackmail. People should be alarmed.
Yeah, he didn’t share a lot, but he wasn’t that secretive. He was just precise about everything he did or didn’t want to do. Even his handwriting was precise; you could read every word without question while mine was hard as hell to figure out. But there was no suggestion of him making any plans or not being able to handle the situation over the DA’s accusations. At least, I didn’t think so.
Of course, what that reminded me of how I knew very little about him. I didn’t know if he had a lover. I didn’t know how he made a living. I didn’t know what kind of food he liked or what his goals were or anything. Even his problems with the DA were shrugged off with a simple text message. It made me feel...I dunno...lost and confused...and, to be honest, dismissed. Like I couldn’t be trusted. And yet, he’d sent me a key and his security code and a cryptic message that didn’t specifically ask me to do anything, expecting me to do something.
“Shit, he and Tone’re almost twins,” I muttered. Maybe I should call him to find out how Uncle Owen thought. Yeah, that'd work great and -- .
Flashing lights rolled up behind me and I was beckoned over. Which didn’t make any sense. I wasn’t speeding, and I hadn’t even passed a traffic light. And since this was a rental car, I could be pretty sure all the lights worked. So what was going on?
I glanced around. We were in the middle of nowhere, with no traffic. Street lights still off. Me, alone in a place I didn’t know. Shit. I flashed back to that night that motherfucking Deputy Sheriff, Nussewald, set me up. Busted me on a bullshit charge. Chucked me in jail for a year and a half. Fucked up my life. And all because I made his “favorite cousin” own up to damaging a city-owned sedan.
What that showed me was, cops’ll use a bogus traffic stop as an excuse to get at you, if they want you. But why would they be doing that with me? I’d only just got here. The first thing my paranoid fantasies settled on was, they were watching Dion’s home. But why? I hadn’t messed with anybody, yet.
Except those two cops at Uncle Owen’s. Oh, holy fucking shit. Here it was – those cops were getting some back, from me. This was going to be the same situation as with Nussewald. I could just feel it.
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I couldn’t hand that, again. Shit. I’d kill somebody if they tried that with me, again.
I’d fucking kill somebody.
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