Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(48)

“What, you want me to wash dishes or some shit?”

“It’s honest work.” Conor had washed plenty of dishes and worse.

“Fuck you. I ain’t cleaning up nobody else’s mess.” The kid pulled back the hammer. The click was as loud as a firecracker and sent a wave of bowel-loosening fear ripping through Conor. His pulse jumped. The door behind him opened, and he caught a glimpse of the cops. The kid’s eyes widened. He pulled the trigger. The gun bucked in his hand, the bullet ricocheting off the steel door and hitting the back of the building. Pieces of brick scattered. The cops ducked behind the door. Conor dove to the asphalt and covered his head with his arms. He heard the slap of feet running away.

The cops came out from behind the door, guns drawn. They swept the narrow space.

Still prone, Conor pointed down the alley to the exit one block over on Johnston Street. “They went that way.”

The cops ran down the alley. Conor got to his feet and brushed the dirt off his jeans. He picked a few bits of gravel out of the skin on his arm.

A black-and-white pulled in. Conor’s friend since high school, Officer Terry Moran, got out. “I got a report of a shooting. What the hell is going on?”

Conor’s heart recovered. “Thanks, man, but you missed all the action.” He gave Terry a rundown and a description of the teenagers. “Be great if you could find him. He’s my alibi.”

“About that.” Terry leaned closer. “Let me get this description out, call a crime scene tech to go over your apartment, and talk with those two. Then we need to talk.”

The plainclothes cops returned. “They’re gone.”

“Meet you inside.” Conor went in the back door. Customers gawked and gossiped at the police activity. Conor detoured to the bar. With shaky hands he grabbed the bottle of twelve-year-old Glenfiddich. For the first time ever, he broke his own rule about not drinking while working. Having a gun pointed in the dead center of his face justified the one-time exception.

“Oh my God. Are you all right?” Jaynie hugged him.

“You’re going to spill that.” Ernie took the bottle from Conor’s hand and poured him a short glass. “All this over a dog? It doesn’t make sense.”

“No. It doesn’t.” Conor sipped. The single malt heated his throat and cleared his sinus passages. As a side benny, it also wiped the nasty stench from his nostrils. “I have to go talk to Terry. I’ll fill you in when I’m done.”

Terry was waiting for him in the office. Conor closed the door. “Where are your pals?”

“Outside. I told them I’d get your statement. Since we know each other, I’ll stay away from any evidence. They’re calling Detective Jackson.”

“Oh goody. Hold on a second then.” Conor picked up his cell and called Damian, who promised to drive over. Conor set his phone down and gestured with his glass to Terry. “OK. Go.”

Terry pulled out a small notebook. “Let’s get your statement for tonight out of the way.”

Conor slid into his dad’s chair and gave him the details.

“I’ll write this up and bring a report by tomorrow for you to sign.” Terry closed his notebook. “I want you to look at mug shots too. Chances are these scumbags have been arrested before.”

“Great.” Conor took a long pull of scotch, letting the fiery liquid numb a path through his gut.

“Now about that missing girl.” Terry sat forward and leaned his forearms on his thighs.

Conor leaned forward and rubbed his forehead. “You know I didn’t have anything to do with the girl’s disappearance.”

“Damned straight, but what I know doesn’t mean squat. Detective Jackson is seriously jonesing for you on this case.” Terry rubbed both hands down his face. “I wish I knew why.”

“Me too.” Conor leaned back in the chair.

“Jackson pulled me out into the parking lot to ask me if I had any dirt on you.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“What do you think I told him? That you’re a serial killer?” Terry rolled his eyes. “I told him I’ve known you since high school, and you wouldn’t do anything like that.”

“And?” Conor took another small sip.

Terry’s grim face wasn’t promising. “They have a shitload of circumstantial evidence on you.”

“I’m afraid they aren’t even looking for anyone else.” Conor tossed the rest of the scotch back. “I’m going to have to find this girl myself.”

“You aren’t without friends at the precinct,” Terry said. “But this case goes beyond us.”

“I know there isn’t anything you can do.” Nerves steadied, Conor stood. “I need to get back to work. We’re shorthanded tonight.”

“Watch your back, Conor.” Terry pointed at him with his pen. “I’m serious. Jackson’s got a rep as a determined motherf*cker. Don’t get in his way.”

Conor ushered his friend out of the office. “I’m not arguing, but if I don’t find out who did it, I’m still the number-one suspect.”

Both Damian and Jackson arrived within the next half hour. They all went out back, where Jackson viewed the damage to Conor’s apartment and reviewed his statement. Standing in the alley, Conor watched a uniform with a camera jog up the steps and enter his apartment.