David Putnam - The Replacements

“Why are the Feds involved if this is a straight murder and nothing else? The state has jurisdiction.”

Mack smiled, still watching the road. “Twenty-five years ago, before every business on the street put in surveillance cameras, Drago and his crew pulled an armored car heist where Drago walked up behind an armored car guard named Willy Frakes, who was unloading plastic-wrapped blocks of currency. Right out in the open, in front of a bank, stuck a gun to his head, killed him, and took the money. No witnesses. You believe it? No one saw him do it. You can’t get luckier than that.

“Someone called in an anonymous tip and the cops picked up Drago. The prosecution didn’t have any witnesses and only a little circumstantial evidence. Drago only had a public defender, who talked him into taking a lesser charge on a plea for killing the guard. When he got out twelve years later, the speculation is that he killed the guy who ratted him out on the guard killing, a guy named Stanley Grandville, who was also thought to be in on the heist, but never proven. Grandville being in on the heist was just a working theory for motivation in the murder. Drago killed him for being a rat and went in again for another twelve.”

I finished it for him. “The money was federally insured, which brings in the Feds.”

“Exactly. We follow him long enough, he’ll take us to the rest of his crew and violate his parole before he kills someone else.”

My phone rang. Marie. I’d forgotten to call Marie. “Hello, babe.” I missed her something fierce.

“Bruno, are you okay? You didn’t call when you were supposed to.”

“Everything’s good. How are the kids? How’s Dad?”

“Kids are great. They miss Wally, of course. I miss Wally.”

“And Dad?”

She paused, time hanging in a large fat bubble. “He’s…” Her voice cracked a little. “He’s got stomach cancer.”

Mom came down with cancer while I attended elementary school. Marie had warned me before I left she thought Dad might be sick. I’d hung too much hope on the might part. The memory of Mom forever remained an open emotional sore. And now Dad.

In the front seat of the speeding car, thousands of miles away, I was unable to help him, to console him, tell him I was there for him. All of a sudden, I found it difficult to breathe. I needed to get back as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry, Bruno. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“They’re starting his treatment tomorrow, a consultation with the surgeon. Surgery and then chemo. As a last resort, radiation.”

I closed my eyes tight and whispered, “How bad?”

Another long pause. “I did some research. His age is a big factor. It works against him. But he is in great shape physically, which is in his favor.”

“Babe, please.”

“Fifty-fifty. Bruno, I’m sorry, fifty-fifty.”

I slid down in the seat and laid my head against the door’s window. Marie would sugarcoat it for me, which meant the odds would be closer to sixty-forty, or worse.

“They have great docs here and top-notch hospitals. He’s got a good chance.”

At best, a good chance meant a coin toss.

“Have you found the kids?” she asked. She didn’t want to load me up with any more pressure and asked an indirect question to find out when I was coming home. For the same reason she didn’t want to mention Jonas Mabry’s name.

“No.” Now the conflict to stay or head home pulled harder than ever.

“Are you close?” Her voice broke; she couldn’t hold her emotions together any longer. She needed me.

“Not really. Well, maybe.”

Her voice came back strong. I visualized her posture going straight, her eyes narrowing as the need to nurture took over. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“I have the case file, and I think I’ve figured out Jonas. I know what he’s doing. The three kids-”

She asked, “Three? There are three taken now?”

“That’s right, and he’s asked for money. A million dollars. I think after he gets the money, he plans to hurt them.” I looked at Mack who stared at me, back and forth from the road.

“Why? How did you figure that out?”

I closed my eyes. “Because I think they’re replacements for him and his sisters, the sisters his mother killed twenty years ago.” The word “killed” caught in my throat like a sideways chicken bone. I half-whispered the rest. “Jonas never thought his mother should’ve gone to prison and blames me. In some screwed-up, psychotic way, he intends on re-creating the house that bled, to finish what his mother started and, at the same time, punish me for intervening. He’ll kill Elena, Sandy, and the third child to teach me a lesson for intervening and ruining his mother’s life and, in turn, allowing him-forcing him-to continue to live in a world he wanted nothing to do with. A life without his mother and two sisters.”

“Oh, Bruno, are you okay? Really, are you okay? Geez, that’s absolutely awful. You okay, Bruno?”

“Yeah.”

“No, you’re not. I can tell by your voice. You’re not okay. Are you with Mack? Let me talk to Mack.” Marie knew the story about Jonas and the house that bled. I’d told her shortly after we met. She said a number of times she thought I had post-traumatic stress disorder and wanted me to seek help. And maybe I did have PTSD. I just never found the time to go have my head shrunk by a head shrinker. I opened my eyes and looked at Mack. I had not told him the theory about the kids. At the moment, I couldn’t read Mack.

“Bruno, hand Mack the phone right this minute. I mean it, Bruno, do it now, mister.”

I handed Mack the phone. He took it without question. He listened and watched the road as we sped along at 100 weaving in and out of cars.

He said, “No, that was the first I heard of it. Yeah. Now that he pointed it out, I think he’s right. No, he’s only been here one day and he’s gotten us further along than seventy investigators from three agencies. Yes, I understand. I understand, Marie.” He handed the phone back, shaking his head.

Marie said to me, “I’m coming.”

I sat forward. “No, you can’t. You’re wanted just like I am.”

“Exactly, just like you are, and you’re there. There isn’t a difference, is there, mister?” She always threw in a “mister” when she wanted to make her point.

“You’re wrong, there is a difference. The kids. If we both get grabbed, who’s going to take care of the kids? Who’s going to take care of Dad? I’m sorry I’m saddling you with all of this, but you know I’m right.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “Bruno, I know you. This is tearing you up inside. I need to be there with you.”

When I worked the street, I remember being strong, physically and mentally. I had the ability to put heavy emotional issues away behind a door in my mind and not think about them. Most of them. Not this one. And age had weakened all of me. Tears burned my eyes. I didn’t care if Mack saw them.

“This is going to be over quickly,” I said. “We have a plan that will work. I’ll be on a plane in two days, three at most. That’s a promise.”

“You’re lying to make me feel better.”

“No, we have a plan.”

“Give the phone to Mack.”

I handed the phone to Mack. He waved his hand, “Oh no, I’m not talking to that fiery wench again, no way. She scares the hell outta me, man.”

“Please?” I held the phone out to him. As I waited for him to take it. Marie’s voice came out small and tinny, dissipating into the warm desert air.

“All right,” he said, “only because we’re brothers separated at birth.” He took the phone and put it to his ear. Now I was going to owe him big.