Sara Paretsky - Burn Marks

In the streetlamps along the Drive I could see sweat beaded on his forehead. He made a violent gesture with his right hand but the car swerved; he fishtailed and got us back in our lane by a miracle.

“What is it that Roland owes Boots?” I kept my tone level. “And why did he get you to set the fire-why couldn’t he do it himself?”

Furey bared his teeth at me. “You’re not that fucking smart Vic. I went to Montgomery. I found him for Boots. All he had to do was get me the accelerant and make sure no one investigated too closely.”

“What a good boy,” I said marveling. “Is that when they gave you the Corvette?”

“You don’t understand anything, do you? I was prepared-I was willing-you could have lived like LeAnn and Clara-had whatever you wanted-but you-”

“I have what I want, Michael. My independence and my privacy. You’ve just never understood it, have you, that all those things, those diamonds and stuff, just don’t turn me on.”

He got off at the Grand Avenue exit and whipped around the curves to the Rapelec complex. He parked the Corvette well away from the street, behind one of the wooden walls blocking the site.

He jumped out and came around to the passenger door. I had thought I might be able to kick him as I got out of the car but he’d handled a lot of rough arrests in his time-he stood well away from the frame and waited for me to wrestle with the seat belt and get my legs out myself. He put an arm around me in a savage mockery of chivalry and hustled me into the building.

I shivered involuntarily when we moved into the inky corridors. We were on the plank-covered ramp I’d walked three weeks earlier up to the management offices. Beyond the naked bulbs lay the gaping hole of the complex. I wondered where my aunt was, if she was still alive, what tragic end was destined for us.

Furey hadn’t said a word since we’d gotten to the site. I began to feel boxed in by the silence as much as by my cuffs.

To regain my composure I said conversationally, “Was it because McGonnigal told you I had the bracelet? Is that why you came to get me tonight?”

He bared his teeth again in a violent parody of a smile. “You left your scarf at the Alma offices, Vic. I saw you unwrap it when Eileen gave it to you the day we met. You don’t remember it but I do because I thought you were the hottest little number I’d ever laid eyes on. I do want my bracelet back, but I’m not in any hurry.”

“That’s good,” I said calmly, even though my cheeks burned at the idea of being a hot number. “I left it in my apartment. You’re going to need a wrecking crew to get in there. You don’t get it, do you? Not even being a cop can cover your tracks for you when you’ve created this much carnage. Not even Bobby will do it. It’ll break his heart, but he’ll let you go.”

Michael hit me across my mouth with the back of his hand. “You need to learn a few lessons, Vic, and one of them is to shut up when I tell you to.”

It stung a little but didn’t hurt. “I don’t have a long enough lifeline right now to learn new tricks, Mickey, and even if I did, yours just purely make me throw up.”

Michael stopped in the middle of the gangway and shoved me against the wall. “I told you to shut up, Vic. Do you want me to break your jaw to make you do it?”

I looked at him steadily, marveling that I’d ever found those dark angry eyes engaging. “Of course I don’t, Michael. But I have to wonder if beating me while I’m defenseless would make you feel powerful or ashamed?”

He held my shoulder with his left hand and tried to slam his right into my face. As he came forward I kicked him as hard as I could in the kneecap, hard enough to break it. He gave a sharp cry and dropped my shoulder.

I ran down the ramp, terribly hampered by my bound hands. Above me I heard Furey crying out, and then Ernie Wunsch calling down asking what the fuck was going on. I darted into the shadowy interior, tumbling over boards in the dark. I was making too big a racket-no one would have any trouble finding me.

I stopped running and moved cautiously forward until I came to a big pillar, steel with concrete poured around it. I sidled around behind it and stood there trying not to breathe out loud, scrabbling behind me trying to reach my gun. My arms were crossed in their cuffs, though, and I couldn’t reach far enough around.

A powerful flashlight stuck fingers out on the floor around me. I didn’t move.

“Let’s not play hide-and-seek here all night,” Ernie said. “Go get the aunt. She’ll flush her out.”

I still didn’t move. A couple of minutes later I could hear Elena’s breathless voice, squeaky with fear.

“What are you doing? You’re hurting me. There’s no need to hold me so hard. I don’t know how you were brought up, but in my day a true gentleman did not squeeze a lady’s arm hard enough to bruise it.”

Good old Elena. Maybe I’d find a happy death, laughing at her incongruous scolding.

“We have your aunt here, Warshawski.” It was Ron Grasso speaking now. “Call out to your niece, Auntie.”

He did something to make her scream. I flinched at the noise.

“Louder, Auntie.”

She screamed again, a cry of genuine pain. “Vicki! They’re hurting me!”

“We just broke a finger, Warshawski. We’ll break her bones one by one until you decide you’ve had enough.”

I swallowed bile and stepped out from behind my pillar. “Okay, he-men. I’ve had enough.”

“That’s a good girl, Vic,” Ernie said, moving toward me. “I always told Mickey there was a way to manage you if he just looked for it… Keep the light on her, Ronnie. Little bitch maybe broke Mickey’s knee. I don’t want her clawing at me.”

He came up to me and took my arm. “Now don’t you try anything, Vic, because Ron there will just start breaking your auntie’s fingers again if you do.”

“Vicki?” Elena quavered. “You’re not mad at poor old Elena, are you?”

I held out my cuffed hands to her. “Of course I’m not mad at you, sweetie. You did the best you could. You were very smart and brave to hide so long.”

What good would it have done to chew her out for not sharing the whole story with me from the beginning-or at least from her bed at Michael Reese.

“They hurt me, Vicki, they broke my little finger. I didn’t mean to scream and make them find you, but I couldn’t help it.” Her face was in shadow but I sensed the tears beginning to fall.

“No, no, sweetie, I know you couldn’t.” I patted the thin bones in her hands. They were fragile, exposed, as easy to break as sticks of china.

Behind Ron and Elena stood August Cray, the night project manager. “What happened to your security guard? He not in on the kill?” I asked. “And I don’t see dear little Star, either. She and I had such a nice chat this afternoon.”

Nobody answered me. “We’re just going to go for a ride, Vic,” Ron said. “You take it easy. There are three of us here and we can make it mighty unpleasant for both of you if you try any of your cute tricks on us.”

“Just three of you? What happened to Furey? Did I really get his kneecap? A shot like that takes a lot of practice.” I was amazed to hear myself sounding as chipper as a cheerleader. “You know, if he’s gone to the hospital, you’ve got a little problem-if my body’s discovered with his handcuffs on, I mean-it’s going to be awkward for the poor boy to explain that one away.”

“You’re not the only one around here with a brain, Warshawski, so don’t get your underwear in a bundle over that one.” Ernie’s sharper voice came from behind me. “Mickey won’t leave us holding the bag.”

“That’s right,” I said approvingly. “You’re all pals and pals gotta stick together, even unto death, at least the death of a whole lot of innocent bystanders.”