Page 96 of Rough Hard Fierce (Chicago Underground 1-3)
“What? Why? No, never mind. Shit! I can’t even—I have to get to Colin. I’m going to call him again, but if he doesn’t answer, I need to go there.”
“I can’t come over,” she was saying over me. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. Philip’s missing. I thought he’d just gone out. I mean, he never goes to the drops personally. I didn’t think—”
“Shelly,” I interrupted her. “Call Philip. Get them both out of there.”
I hung up on her babbling and called Colin, only to cuss out his voice mail.
Deliberating only a second, I ran across the yard to Linda’s house and banged on the door. She opened the door wearing a robe and a face mask of white. It startled me momentarily, not that it was scary, despite its skull shape, but how ordinary it was to run through a nighttime beauty regimen. A contrast to the shit storm that was tonight.
“Hi, Linda. I’m so sorry to impose on you, so sorry, but would it be at all possible for you to come watch Bailey for an hour? She’s already asleep, so really you’d just have to sit there and—”
“Of course!” she said. “Don’t even worry about it.”
“Thank you so much. An emergency came up, a family emergency, so that’s—”
“Stop, dear. You don’t have to explain it all now. I can see you’re in a way. Now, you get back to her, and I’ll be right there.”
Thank God someone could think, because I probably would have babbled half the night away, just like Shelly had done. And, damn! I couldn’t believe Shelly had told the cops anything. It didn’t make sense. I should have known they’d be pushing for information from all angles, but why would Shelly talk to the cops? Maybe they’d threatened her. Well, of course they had. They’d threatened me, and Shelly was a prostitute, for God’s sake. Like taking candy from a baby, that’s how easy it would be for them to threaten her with arrest or worse.
I practically dug tracks into the hardwood as I waited for Linda to come over. I remembered the business card that the other detective had given me. What could I say if I called him? I know my hooker friend gave you intel, but could you please do me a favor and not arrest my boyfriend? Really I was the epitome of class and grace.
But maybe I could find out something. I darted upstairs and into the closet, where I searched through the folded shirts, looking for the envelope of money Andrew had given me, where I’d stored the business card. They weren’t related in any way except that they were things I’d hidden from Colin.
They were gone.
I flipped through the shirts again, then dumped them all out on the closet floor. No cards, no money, nothing. Then for good measure, I rifled through all the drawers. Nothing. It was like the Grinch had taken my Christmas, not even leaving the empty envelope behind.
I had a crazy thought that I’d imagined all of it. Colin was safe, and I’d only imagined my meeting with Andrew and the cops in some sort of housewife hallucinations. I indulged in those fantasies for half a second before snapping back to reality. Colin needed me.
Except Colin must have found the money and the business card. I rolled that over in my mind—he found them together. Would he have thought, was it possible he might think they were connected? That I’d gotten the money from the cops? And there was only one reason the cops would give me money like that: to betray Colin.
No, he’d know better. I wouldn’t betray him—I hadn’t—and he trusted me. He’d said as much to his brother when Philip had accused me of being an informant. But the money—fuck! And of course Colin had no idea that I’d even met with Andrew, much less that he’d given me money. This looked bad.
The discovery compounded the cluster fuck, but it didn’t change my purpose. If anything, it strengthened it. I couldn’t sit on my hands at home while Colin did God knew what with the wrong information. It could get him hurt—or arrested.
I peeked in on Bailey, sending up a quick prayer for her safety here at home. Back downstairs, Linda came in carrying a thick book. She hugged me hard, clasping me to her round body. I resisted as if a hug was a threat to me, but she held on until I slumped in her arms.
“Don’t worry, hon. Whatever happens, you’ll be okay, you know. Go on now.”
The words helped, which was strange, because they never had before. I stumbled from the house, hoping I was doing the right thing, hoping I wouldn’t be Colin’s downfall.
Chapter Four
Some of my panic morphed into frustration as I circled the warehouses that huddled the one I was looking for. For blocks they went on, all large gray boxes, and none of them labeled. Around I went, peering at the tiny block numbers on the street signs, trying to make out the right section of street. Christ, if I was too late because of a fucking street sign…well, that would just be hilarious.
The streetlamps glowed meekly, suspended in the thick of the night. No grassy plots or stick-thin trees dotted this concrete landscape. They’d done away with any pretense that this place was natural.
Cars whirred by, oblivious to my worry. The people inside them surely had worries of their own, but to me those cars were just two bright lights tacked onto metal freight, part of the machinery. All backdrop.
I hadn’t identified the warehouse, but I found my stop anyway. Shelly’s car. Parked on the side of the road behind a long line of cars, innocuously dark. I pulled in behind her and cut the engine. We were in this together, after all.
The cars zoomed past my door, shaking my car like a bobblehead. At a break in the line, I opened the car door and clipped around to the curb. I started down the sidewalk when I heard a car door open behind me. My breath stuttered, and I whirled.
Shelly sat in the shadows of the backseat, head bent low.
“Christ, Shelly! You scared me.”
She scared me still, unmoving. I walked back toward her, or at least I tried to, but ended up making an arc on the sidewalk, keeping my distance. I squinted into the car—it was empty.
