The Lethal Bones Page 7

  But even then he’d felt in control. He felt like he was doing something. This time was different. He’d never felt so powerless to stop it. It was true he’d seen a dead body before, but this was somehow different. Seeing a young man — Kenneth — alive, talking to him, and then seeing his head turn into a close-range target and then just…

  Ben pushed the thought away. It wasn’t gone, and he knew it would be stuck in his subconscious for a long time, but he did his best to ignore it. More important things to worry about now, he thought.

  He didn’t want Lucas to see the panic on his face. But, he had a feeling his old friend would sniff it out, anyway.

  The door opened, and there stood a short Latina woman. Definitely not Lucas.

  “Marietta?” Ben asked.

  “You must be Ben.”

  She had a thin and cute voice, along with a welcoming smile and a certain lightness to her. Easy to see why Lucas liked her. He extended a hand. “Yeah, I’m Ben.”

  “I’ve heard so much about you.” They shook as she pulled him inside the house for a sneak-attack hug. His least-favorite kind, but he endured it and waited until she let him pull away. “Hi, Ben.”

  As she released him, he tried to fake a smile for her. “Me and Lucas go way back. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You too, Ben. I feel like I know you, too. The long-distance friend with so many adventures.”

  “I don’t know if I’d call them adventures, but yeah, I’ve led a not-boring life so far, for sure.”

  Lucas then appeared out of the edge of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish rag. “Just in time for lunch, Ben. I hope you like real Mexican chalupas, not that over-fried Tex-Mex stuff.”

  “Sure,” Ben said. “I’m not too hungry, though.”

  Lucas frowned as he emerged from the kitchen and put a hand on Marietta's shoulder. He whispered something to her in Spanish, and she shot a glance at Ben before nodding and retreating into the kitchen. Lucas tilted his head toward the sliding glass door to the back porch, and Ben followed him.

  Outside, Lucas motioned Ben into a metal lawn chair. They both sat.

  “You look like you’ve been running from a horde of zombies, hermano.”

  Ben nodded. “Did you know about her? Ember?”

  When Ben had said the name, Lucas’ eyes flashed back inside, toward Marietta.

  “Oh, crap,” Ben said, “you are sleeping with her, aren’t you?”

  Lucas waved his hands. “No, no, no. It’s not like that, I promise. Marietta is just the jealous type, you know? She’d rather not hear too much about the pretty gringo lady.”

  “Do you know what Ember does for a living? Anything about her?”

  Lucas shook his head. “Not really. She told me about the bear teeth, and that she wanted to offer you a job, but she had to check you out you first. I tried to ask her a few questions about this and that, but she’s tricky. I couldn’t ever get a straight answer out of her. But, I dunno. She’s got this thing about her. I just believed her.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen her do that too.”

  “I guess the interview didn’t go so well?”

  “No, it didn’t. I saw a guy get shot in front of me.”

  Lucas’ jaw dropped. “Holy Mother of God. Is the guy dead?”

  “Very dead. They shot him in the forehead. Then again in the chest, which was probably for my benefit, to make sure I wouldn’t dawdle and try to help him.”

  “Wow.”

  “His eyes, Lucas. The kid’s eyes after they shot him, they were like black marbles in his head. It was the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen some shit.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  "Lucas, these people… I think if I do that, I won't make it to the police station alive to give a statement. Ember is involved in this group. This club for contract killers. She's in one team, and these guys are in another team, and they don't like each other. I don't even know. It's the craziest thing I've ever heard in my life, and I don't know how much of it I believe. They shot at me, then chased me, then she took me to this place they call a ‘Post Office,' but she said it would be against the rules for them to attack me there. What club has rules about where and when you can kill people? I mean, what the hell?"

  Lucas rocked back and forth in his chair, wringing his hands together. “Okay. Okay, we can work with this. We can figure out a way out of this.” His eyes darted back and forth, searching the ground for answers. “Seems to me, the best and most simple option here is for you to get in your truck and head out of town. When Ember comes around asking about you, I’ll say you never came back.”

  “You think you can look her in the eye and lie to her?”

  Lucas shrugged. "Even if I can't, it won't matter. You're not going to tell me where you're going, so there's nothing I can tell her. You're good at disappearing, right? No reason to think she can find you again if you go east somewhere and drop your phone in a trash can before you leave town."

  “I can’t. They have my wallet.”

  “Who does?”

  “Some guy named Dalton. He’s the one who killed the kid in front of me. At least, I think Dalton has it. I was there, I ran, and now I don’t have my wallet. I have to assume they have it.”

  Lucas’ face went pale. “And you put Zach’s phone number in there. Oh no. That’s my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault. You didn’t tell me to leave my wallet behind where a crew of cold-blooded killers could find it.”

  “This is bad, hermano. What does Ember say about what to do?”

  “She went to go talk to her boss, or coach, or mentor, at this ‘Post Office’ place. But, she wouldn’t tell me what he said. She’s going to call me in a little bit.”

  “I guess she doesn’t think running is an option for you.”

  “Not unless I want to make sure Zach and maybe my mom get caught up in this. I don’t think calling the cops is an option, either.”

  Lucas sat back and blew out a sigh. “Doesn’t sound like we’re left with much.”

  Ben shook his head as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out to find a number on the caller ID he didn’t recognize at first, then, it hit him. Reese. A person he hadn’t spoken with or seen since he’d left all the drama behind at Rocky Mountain National Park.

  Why is Reese calling right now?

  Ben let it ring, and Lucas stared at the phone. “You going to answer that?”

  The phone stopped ringing, and a few seconds later, it beeped. Reese had left a message. Ben felt lightheaded, staring at the notification on his phone's lock screen. Like a ghost from the past. A part of him urged Ben to unlock the phone and delete the message without listening to it. But, he couldn't do that, could he?

  Ben held up a finger toward Lucas as he tapped the button to listen to the message.

  "Hey, Ben, long time no see. It's Reese, by the way, but you probably knew that since hopefully you haven't deleted me from your phone. Which, if you have, shame on you." Reese chuckled. “So, anyway, I have an opportunity for you. It’s a big deal, and you’re going to like it. I promise. Give me a call as soon as you get this. It’s important.”

  Ben waited for the recording to end and then held his phone out, staring at it. Twice in a single week that people from his past appeared out of nowhere to contact him.

  What was going on here?

  13

  Dalton opened the door to the warehouse. The stale air washed over him, years of grime and sweat and the remnants of sawdust. It wasn’t helping his allergies, for sure. The rain today had made him sneezy and stuffy and feeling like he had a head full of snot. He sniffed, hard, trying to clear some of it out, but it only invited more of the musty stench in.

  The two men behind him held their pistols aloft, fingers hover above the triggers. But Dalton knew there was no need. He’d known from the outside that this building had been abandoned for a few dozen minutes, maybe even an hour. The view of the inside confirmed it.
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  And it didn’t really matter. He only cared about scraping clues from the area to find proof Ember and her mystery man had been here. Then, he would find the mystery man, take him, and then he and Ember would play a little game. A game that would signal the beginning of Dalton’s plan to fix all the things that had gone so wrong with the Club over the last few years.

  The interior of the warehouse spread out endlessly, empty except for a few pallets. Strangely, a couple had been pulled together near the center of the room. A line in the dust indicated someone had dragged them together. A good place to sit and have a chat?

  “Should we spread out and search?” one of the men asked.

  Dalton held up a hand. “No. Stay where you are. I don’t want anything disturbed until I’ve had a chance to walk the room.” He turned to one of his men and caught the guy’s eye, which appeared to terrify him.

  “What does it say on the campsites in the mountains?”

  “‘Only you can prevent forest —”

  “No, you idiot. That’s Smoky the Bear.”

  “Oh,” the guy said. “Um, leave no trace?”

  Dalton nodded. “Correct. Let’s be careful. It might be important later.”

  The men stood at attention, silent and still. Dalton put his hands behind his back and crossed the room. His footfalls echoed, with only the rooftop patter of the dissipating rain providing any other sound. There was nothing better than silence to help clear the mind to focus.

  Little black objects littered the floor. Dalton knelt down and picked one up. A sphere of chocolate, no bigger than his thumb. He sniffed it. Like the positioned pallets, this had also been left here recently.

  Dalton squinted at the pallets and noticed the box the chocolate had come from. White with gold lettering. It looked about the right size to fit inside the cardboard box the mystery man had been carrying.

  “Is that it, Ember?” he whispered to himself. “Bringing Kenny a box of chocolates?”

  Dalton remembered Kenneth, a week ago in a Branch meeting, with some of these wrappers on the table in front of him, licking his fingers. So, Ember and Kenny had a chocolate trade scheme going.

  But it still didn’t make sense. Risking the wrath of the Five Points Branch this morning, just to bring her secret boyfriend a box of chocolates? Inter-Branch communication wasn’t forbidden, but Boulder and Five Points had been wallowing in enough tension between the two of them that any meetings should have been approved.

  And, not only that, but involving an outsider to do it? There had to be a deeper reason. Ember Clarke didn’t do anything with a solid motive behind it.

  Like a light, the realization flicked on inside his head.

  “He’s a recruit,” Dalton said to no one in particular.

  “Sir?” one of the men said, still hovering near the front door.

  “Spread out and search the room. Anything you can find that tells us where they went. Be careful. Leave only footprints, my little campers.”

  Dalton considered tossing the chocolate, but he didn’t want to leave any fingerprints behind. Had to play by his own rules. Instead, he unzipped the front pocket on his leather jacket and slipped it inside.

  Then, he stood and crossed the room. Next to the far window was a set of footprints and a rectangular spot in the dust that could have been the stock of a rifle. It was about the size and shape an AR-15 might make.

  She had been here, standing in this spot. Also, someone had wiped a circle into the dirty windowpane. She had definitely been here, used this spot as a scouting location.

  “What are you doing, Ember?” he whispered. “Why now? Why bring a recruit into the game now?”

  Dalton had to wonder if Ember had an idea about his plan. But, no. That couldn’t be possible. Even if Kenny had been spying for Ember, Dalton and his closest people had been too careful to let anything slip. Hadn’t they?

  The door to the warehouse cracked open, and he spun, with his pistol out. But, before he pulled the trigger, he saw the ruddy and breathless face of Rennie, his top assistant.

  “Mr. Dalton,” Rennie said, shoulders heaving up and down. He was a squat man, in his mid-thirties, or maybe closer to forty. Dalton didn’t know, but he knew Rennie was considerably older than him. He had a haircut parted down the middle like a 1970s folk singer and little round glasses that helped complete the John Lennon look.

  Dalton waved him forward. Rennie waddled across the room and drew an object from his pocket. A wallet. He held it out to Dalton.

  “What’s that?”

  Rennie beamed. “Good news.”

  Dalton opened it and smiled at the picture on the license. “Harvey Bennett. Hello, mystery man. This is him, for sure.” He noted a folded yellow Post-It with the name Zach and a phone number written below it. Additional leverage, if needed. This day was getting better by the minute.

  “Why leave the wallet behind?” Rennie asked. “Is this a message? Maybe Ember wants us to take this guy out. She could be making a play here, Mr. Dalton.”

  Dalton shook his head. “Maybe, but I don’t think it’s anything that smart. He’s a recruit and made a dumb mistake. Good work, Rennie. If we move fast, maybe we can do something with this before he even realizes it’s gone.”

  “I have better news, sir.”

  Dalton raised an eyebrow. “I’m always in the mood for good news.”

  “Ember’s car was spotted leaving Denver over an hour ago. She stopped at the Boulder Post Office, and then headed to Westminster, off Sheridan. She dropped Bennett at someone’s house twenty minutes ago.”

  “Anyone at the house that might be armed?”

  Rennie shrugged. “Not that my guy could see. Looks like a married couple. Maybe a safehouse Ember set up, but I doubt it. I think these are friends of Bennett’s.”

  “Bennett is still there, at this house in Westminster?”

  "Yes, he is, as far as I know."

  Dalton smiled as he slipped the wallet into his front pocket. “Excellent. Let’s go retrieve Mr. Bennett so we can ask him a few questions.”

  14

  Ben stared at his plate of chalupas in front of him. They had gone cold in the hour since lunch, and he couldn't work up an appetite to force the food down. He'd had a few beers, hoping to settle his nerves. It hadn't worked. Now he could add drowsy and sloppy to the anxiety, but it didn’t cancel it out.

  The worst part of it all had to be the utter sense of helplessness he felt. Ben didn't like not being in control. He didn't like living at the whims of what other people wanted for him. But what was he supposed to do? He wasn't an action hero, ready to arm himself to the teeth and assault this Dalton guy and his underlings.

  And, he didn’t like depending on Ember, since he didn’t know if she could be trusted. She’d lied to him about her brother being mauled by a bear. She hadn’t given him the full truth about the meeting in the alley.

  Still, something about her made Ben think she could be trusted. He didn’t know what it was. She had a persuasive way about her Ben had never encountered in any other person before.

  And, maybe, if he didn't figure out why he felt that way toward her, it might lead to his death. He used to journal often, but the practice had lost priority since he'd been out on the road. This would have been the sort of thing he would have worked out on the page of a notebook. Maybe that was a practice he needed to resume.

  “Still thinking about it?” Lucas asked as he dipped back into the living room. He flicked his eyes down at Ben’s full plate.

  “No, I don’t think it’s going to happen. Nothing personal.”

  Lucas picked up Ben’s chalupas, barely touched. “I get it. Good thing my abuela isn’t here, though. You refuse to eat her food, she’ll never speak to you again. You don’t get a second chance with her.”

  “Noted,” Ben said as he rolled his head around on his neck, trying to eradicate the tension in his shoulders. It didn’t work.

  “When your uncle got me a job with the fire servic
e back then,” Ben said, not sure where he was headed with this conversation, “I was… angry. All the time. I liked to pretend I had all the answers. I liked to pretend I knew everything.”

  “Considering what you’d been through, it’s not hard to imagine why you felt that way. All of us young punks were like that. Sometimes, I still am.”

  “You seem fine to me.”

  Lucas shrugged. “I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, Ben, and I don’t know how to make myself see it.”

  “You have a nice home and a great wife, so I don’t think you’re struggling as hard as you think you are.”

  “My uncle did tell me something pretty wise one time. He said, ‘if you find out you can’t do what you want to do, then you have to do what you can do.’ Maybe it’s not the most inspirational quote, you know, but it’s worth something. I can do construction, and I can provide for Marietta, so that’s good enough for me for now.”

  “I’m not sure if I know what I can do yet.”

  “And that’s okay. There’s no time limit on growing up.”

  “How is your uncle, by the way?”

  Lucas shook his head. “Cancer. About two years ago.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  Lucas sat opposite him. “No, it’s fine. He was smiling on his deathbed, and I didn’t know why when I saw him. I spent months after, thinking about that. I thought he was happy to be dying, but, I knew that couldn’t be right. He was always a fighter. He wouldn’t give up like that. Later on, I figured out he was smiling because he’d had a full life. He didn’t leave anything left undone.”

  “I hope I get to say that someday.”

  "Maybe you will," Lucas said. "Look, I have to go into work for a few hours. I'll leave you here with Marietta if that's okay." He broke out into a wry grin. "Don't you try to make time with my girl, Ben."