No Way Back(Jack McNeal #1)(74)

Jack wondered if, one day, when he thought this was all in the past, it would catch up to him. Then again, like a lot of cases, maybe not. Maybe Mother Nature would do her work. The fish in the reservoir could chew the meat off of Graff’s bones, leaving only a skeleton, its feet in concrete.

McNeal thought back to his first session with the psychologist. She had been concerned for his well-being. She was right to be concerned. His wife’s death had plunged him into a darkness from which he might never emerge. The hours since had been a living nightmare. And it was all still playing out. He would die in jail, haunted by the memories of what he had become. But, as it stood, a free man had become a hunter. He didn’t give a damn.

He thought of his son. His poor, dead son. The pain was too much to bear. Maybe dying would be a respite for McNeal. A beautiful release.

The sound of crunching footsteps snapped him back to the present.

“Henry?” A man’s voice. “You here?”

“This way,” Jack said.

A lone figure approached wearing a combat jacket, jeans, and heavy boots.

McNeal brushed against the cold metal of the Glock in his pocket as he scanned the man’s craggy features. It had to be Nicoletti.





Fifty-Five

Jack stepped forward and waved the gun at Nicoletti. He approached just close enough to get a whiff of strong cologne. “Hands on your head, motherfucker,” he ordered.

Nicoletti tilted his chin, amused. “Who are you?”

“Are you fucking deaf?”

“I don’t want any trouble, man.”

McNeal implemented his game plan. He fired one shot and blew out Nicoletti’s kneecap. The fucker screamed, collapsing on the ground, blood gushing from his knee. The sound of the gunshot and screaming echoed through the woods, birds scattering. “Too bad.”

Nicoletti shook, gripping his bloodied knee. “What the fuck, man?”

Peter ran out of the woods and kicked Nicoletti in the head. The guy passed out for a few moments.

Jack grabbed Nicoletti’s right hand as Peter grabbed the left. They hauled him headfirst down the dirt path until they reached the cave entrance. Peter had already ripped off the wooden sheeting.

Nicoletti came to and began to scream.

The brothers dragged Nicoletti through the filthy ankle-deep water of the cave. The fucker’s screams echoed in the dark mine.

“Hey, hey, you guys, what is this?”

Farther and farther into the abandoned mine.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Deeper and deeper they dragged him, flashlight beams bathing the tunnel in a ghostly light. On and on they went. Hundreds of yards into the mine. Way out of sight.

Nicoletti shivered. He was bleeding in the cold, fetid water. “Sweet mother of God, what are you doing? Where is Henry? Does he know you’re doing this? When he finds out, you guys are dead!”

Jack punched him twice in the jaw. The sound of bone cracking resonated in the cave.

Nicoletti began to wail, his mouth twisted.

“Just so you know, pal, we’re only just getting started.”

“Are you out of your goddamn minds? Do you know who I am?”

Jack bent over and pressed a gun to Nicoletti’s head as Peter frisked him. He found a set of car keys and a cell phone. “Where’s your weapon?”

“In the trunk of my car, man,” he said with a groan.

“What’s your passcode for your cell phone?”

“What?”

“You heard!”

“11131114.”

Jack tapped in the numbers and unlocked the contents of the cell phone. He put the cell phone in his pocket. “11131114, you got that, bro?”

Peter nodded. “Got it.”

Nicoletti shook uncontrollably, wincing in pain when he spoke. “What the fuck you guys want? You working for Henry? Did he send you?”

Peter pressed his foot onto the bleeding knee.

Nicoletti screamed again and scrunched up his eyes. “Motherfucker! What do you want?”

“You’re gonna talk. And then we’ll let you go.”

“Man, I’ve done everything Henry asked me to do. What the hell is going on?”

Jack grabbed Nicoletti by the hair and pistol-whipped him. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth. The pent-up fury was starting to unfurl. “Who told you to kill Caroline McNeal?”

Nicoletti spat out blood and a broken tooth. “Henry did,” he mumbled. “I don’t operate without his say-so.”

Jack stomped on the man’s head three times. Nicoletti spat out more teeth. He screwed up his eyes in pain.

“Who are you, man?” he gasped.

“You’ll find out soon enough. How did you kill her?”

“Man, what is this?”

“You talk, and you might live. Stay silent, and you will die. Your choice.”

“Fine . . . I broke into her place. I waited until she came home, and I jabbed her with drugs. Huge amounts of barbiturates and a morphine solution.”

“Why?”

“To make it look like suicide. And then I took her body down to the river. And that was it.”

Jack’s mind flashed to his wife on their wedding day. The smile on her face. He bent over and pressed the gun tight to Nicoletti’s head. He needed to maintain control. At least for now. “How about Sophie Meyer?”