James Patterson - Don’t Blink

“I don’t care what anybody says,” said LaGrange, jabbing his thick forefinger at me. “You got Derrick killed.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. It was all I could think of.

No, worse than that, actually.

It was all I had.

“HE’S AN ASSHOLE. Don’t let him get to you,” said Sorren as LaGrange headed over to talk to the detectives.

“Too late. He already did,” I said, rubbing my jaw, which was already swollen from the guy’s roundhouse punch. “I think he loosened a tooth.”

“Yeah, that was way out of line.” Sorren shifted his feet uncomfortably. “I know it’s well within your right, but if you’re thinking about pressing charges -”

“Do I look like the type to take him to court for that?”

“No, I suppose you don’t,” said Sorren, flashing some relief. “Thanks, Nick.”

“Sure. And now you owe me one, right?”

“We’ll see about that later. Listen, after Ian’s done I’ll let you finish up with the detectives so you can finally get the hell out of here. Just so you know, though, you’re going to need around-the-clock police protection after tonight.”

“Is that necessary? Wait, that didn’t come out right. I mean, will it help any?”

“I don’t know. You tell me,” he said with a glance at the scorched and smoking carcass that used to be my car. “It’s probably safe to say that whoever wanted you dead still does.”

I nodded. “But it’s not Pinero.”

“So you’ve been telling me,” replied Sorren, reaching for a cigarette. It was like he was only half listening to me.

“It was Joseph D’zorio,” I said.

That got his attention.

Suddenly his next smoke could wait. Sorren was all ears. “How do you know that? Who’s your source? Talk to me, Daniels.”

“I can’t give you all the details, but Dwayne Robinson owed him money that he didn’t have. So -”

Sorren raised his palms. Smart guy – he saw where I was going. “Wait a minute,” he said incredulously. “You’re telling me that your being at Lombardo’s that day was a setup?”

“It was all a setup. D’zorio knew I’d have a recorder going to catch every word of Robinson’s. He knew he could frame Pinero.”

“I guess. But how do you know all this?”

“I can’t reveal my source.”

“Then don’t. But if you want my help, you’ve got to give me more than a gut feeling.”

I spread my arms wide. Take a look around! “Does all this look like a gut feeling? D’zorio knew Phalen and I were onto him.”

“Maybe that’s true; maybe you’ve solved this thing. But it’s a nonstarter if I can’t connect the dots.”

“What about Pinero?” I asked.

“What about him?”

“He’s been charged with first-degree murder.”

“Yes. That’s what happens when all the dots connect,” said Sorren.

“What if you’re wrong?”

“That’s exactly why I need to talk to your source.”

“There is someone else you could talk to,” I said. “The manager at Lombardo’s.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because Dwayne Robinson didn’t just seat himself. If he was supposed to sit next to Marcozza that day, it would have to have been arranged. The question is, who did the arranging? Who’s the man with the plan?”

Sorren resumed reaching for his next cigarette, sliding it into his mouth. Out came a Zippo lighter. I could practically see the wheels spinning in his head as he lit up and took a deep puff. Jesus, these cops and robbers really liked their nicotine fixes. First Sam Tagaletto, now Sorren. I moved a half step away from him, upwind. Both of my parents had smoked like chimneys, and both had died of cancer.

“Let me sleep on it,” he said. “In the meantime, whether it was Pinero, D’zorio, or the tooth fairy, you still need police protection, Nick. We need to keep you alive. Is that okay with you?”

He extended his hand to shake mine. With his other hand he was returning the lighter to his pocket – only he missed. It fell to the ground, skipping off the asphalt and landing at my feet.

“I got it,” I said, bending down.

That’s when I got my head blown off.

JESUS CHRIST! What now? What the hell just happened? Not my head – but damn close!

The back window of the ambulance had just shattered, shards of glass falling on me like jagged rain. A split second earlier and that window would’ve been my head, a bullet right between the eyes.

“Move! Move! Move!” I heard. It was Sorren, and he was shouting at me.

Tucked in a low crouch, he began pushing me toward the front of the ambulance as the booming echo of the gunshot was drowned out by the collective scream of the street. The neighborhood crowd was scattering everywhere at once. It was pure pandemonium. Run for your lives!

“Whoever wanted you dead still does,” Sorren had just said to me.

You ain’t kidding…

A second shot pierced the side of the ambulance about a foot from my chest, the blast from it ripping through the air. My guess was that the shooter didn’t have the right angle yet.

Not yet.

The shooter, wherever he was, was obviously using a long-range rifle.

Then came a completely different sound. Pop! Pop-pop-pop! Pop! Pop-pop-pop!

Those were handguns – and aimed in the opposite direction. It was return fire. That’s what you get, asshole, for shooting up a street filled with cops!

I peeled around to the front of the ambulance, the small of my back practically glued to the bumper. Sorren followed right behind me.

“You okay?” he asked, out of breath.

I was gasping for air, too. “Yeah, I’m all right. You?”

“Peachy. Just great, Nick. All in one piece. I don’t think I like hanging out with you, though.”

Then, as quickly as it had started, it was over, no more fireworks. All the screaming and confusion gave way to an eerie silence.

No one was standing up yet, though. No one wanted to come out into the open.

Twenty feet away I locked eyes with a woman who’d been ducking behind the crimson bricks of a stoop. Her expression said it all. Is it really over?

“Maybe for you, lady,” I could have told her.

Not for me.

David Sorren gripped my arm. “Stay here,” he said. “Do not move.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see if they got the shooter.”

Sorren came up out of his crouch, peeking over the hood of the ambulance.

“Hey, be careful,” I said.

He nodded before cracking a slight smile. “Still think that police protection isn’t necessary?”

I’m sure Sorren thought it was the most rhetorical question he’d ever asked, but as he dashed off I couldn’t help wondering if the answer was so clear. I’d just been surrounded by cops, and I’d come dangerously close to getting nailed by two separate gunshots. The policemen were New York ’s finest, but as to how much they’d be able to protect me, I wasn’t so sure.

That’s when something off in the distance caught my eye. It was a bright block of yellow at the far end of the street. There was a white light on top of it, and I could swear it was calling my name. C’mon, Nick, let’s get lost… Let’s get the hell out of here.

I HAD THOUGHT about going to Courtney’s apartment, but that was somewhere they might come looking for me. So I went someplace else, someplace safer.

“How much did the taxi cost?” asked my sister, Kate, cradling her mug of chamomile tea at the head of her kitchen table. At one a.m., it was the only decaf she had had in the cupboard.

“One hundred and seventy-six dollars,” I told her. “Plus tip.”