Color of Blood(122)

Dennis looked at her long and hard.

“I’m just trying to help, Dennis,” she said. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’d feel better if we got you to another place to stay tonight,” he said. “Maybe you’re right, but again, maybe you’re wrong. In my experience people are generally reluctant to see the worst in human beings. That’s never been my problem. I’m going to call you a cab. I want you to be safe and away from these people.”

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and called directory assistance.

Judy decided not to intervene. She was exhausted, drained, and confused. Sleep would help, and at this point the Comfort Suites sounded as good as any place in the world.

“Taxi will be here in twenty minutes. I’ll follow you over there after closing up this place, OK?”

“Is that what you want?” she said. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said, leaning over and kissing her hard on her upturned mouth.

The doorbell rang once, then twice in rapid succession.

“That’s too quick for the taxi,” he said softly.





Chapter 44


Dennis rushed Judy down the hallway to his bedroom, carrying her suitcase and holding his forefinger to his lips to quiet her.

In the bedroom he pulled the pistol from the small of his back and handed it to her.

“Take this,” he whispered.

The doorbell rang again.

“Dennis, I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Just stay here,” he said. “If anyone besides me comes into this room, you shoot them. You got that?”

“I’m not going to shoot anyone,” she said.

“Judy, this is deadly serious. Just do what I say.”

He pulled the bedroom door shut behind him and tiptoed to the front door. Looking through the peephole, he said, “Oh, Christ. Just great.”

Opening the front door, he shook his head.

“Marty, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I was told you’re in some kind of trouble,” he said.

Dennis let him in.

“What the hell happened between you and Massey today?” Marty asked.

“Nothing, why?”

“He called me this evening and said I should take you to an emergency room for a psychiatric evaluation. I told him you’ve always been off your rocker and that no shrink is going to be able to do anything about it.”

“I’m not going to an ER,” Dennis said. “You can tell Massey to stuff that request.”

“You know, I told him to save his breath but he said you were in tough shape,” Marty said, looking closely at him. “So?”

“So what?” Dennis said.

“So, are you in a bad way? Mentally? He said you might hurt yourself and that I should ask for your gun. To be honest, it’s not like Massey gives a shit about his people, so I was a little surprised. He seemed genuinely worried about you.”

“Tell him to go screw himself,” Dennis said.

“Yeah, you don’t look like you’re in a bad way. Fine, see you later,” he said, turning to the door. “Just do me a favor, OK? If you do feel in a bad way, would you call me? Any time? OK?”

“Roger that,” Dennis said, opening the storm door for Marty.

As Marty stepped outside, a cell phone rang inside his jacket. Marty reached for it and started down the steps with his back to Dennis.

“What?” Marty said. “You’re crazy.”

Dennis, now curious, watched him take several steps away and stop. Marty turned and looked back at Dennis while listening intently.

“Now? Like in right now?” Marty said into the phone. “That’s ridiculous. And don’t yell at me like that. Yeah, well, there’s a nice way and a not-so-nice way to talk to people.”

Marty looked up at Dennis from the walkway ten feet away. “Massey wants you to talk to Garder: right now. He’s on the phone. They finally found him. Massey was lying to you before about us having Garder, but I guess you knew that.”

“You have Garder now?” Dennis said.

“That’s what Massey says,” Marty said, shaking his head. “You want to take it? Can always say no.”

“I’m game,” Dennis said. “Give me the phone.”

Marty walked back up the steps in the glare of the front porch light. He handed Dennis the cell phone.

Dennis took the phone, turned around, and went inside, gesturing Marty to follow him.

“Who is this?” Dennis said, shutting the front door and looking at Marty.

“Garder,” a man said, his voice low and barely audible.

“What happened to you?” Dennis said.

“In Belgium,” the voice mumbled.

Dennis had trouble hearing him. He covered his open ear with his left hand and arched forward slightly, concentrating.

The man said something unintelligible, and Dennis said, “I can’t hear you. Speak up.”

“They told me you . . .” the man said slowly, and then his voice trailed away.

“Garder, what the hell have they done to you? You sound like crap.”

Dennis squinted in concentration and plugged his left ear with his finger. A strange and alarming thought came lobbing into his consciousness.