Winter Counts(82)

I parked at the bottom of the hill, about five hundred yards away. I stuck the Glock in my pocket and handed Marie the little Smith & Wesson.

“You know how to use this?” I asked.

“Of course. You want me to go in first?”

“Nope,” I said. “I’ll go check out the place, you keep watch down here in the car. You see anybody drive in, fire a warning shot so I know they’re coming. But don’t follow them! Just take off and get the hell out of here. You good with that?”

She nodded, unhappy, but seemed resigned. Before I left, I grabbed some plastic zip cuffs I kept in the car just in case I needed to shackle someone. Not really a long-term restraint, but they’d keep somebody’s hands bound for a few hours.

I walked up the hill, checking for any activity. I had no idea what I’d find inside—the entire gang or maybe just Nathan, as I’d seen in my vision. The building had no windows; I couldn’t look inside to scope out what I was up against. But the door wasn’t locked when I tried it. Somebody was in there. But how many? There was only one thing to do: burst in, move to the side, and hope to get the drop on whoever was there.

I stood outside the door, waiting for a sign telling me when to go in. I heard the wind in the trees, and then an owl hooting. Good enough for me.

I lifted my gun up and slowly turned the knob. Then I kicked the door open and hurtled into the room, ducking to the side in case anyone took a shot at me. It was dark in there, but two small kerosene lanterns burned in the far corner. A man sat by the nearest lamp, but I couldn’t see who it was.

“Don’t move!” I shouted, pointing my gun. “Put your hands up!”

I think he raised his hands, though it was hard to see in the black space. I kept the Glock trained on him as I moved closer. When my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw who it was.

Rick Crow.

He had his hands up, and I pointed my gun at his chest, dead center, and moved closer to him.

“Where is he?” I said.

“Who?”

“Nathan, you asshole. My nephew. I know he’s here, so don’t fuck with me.”

“He’s not, so why don’t you piss off and leave me alone?”

I looked around the large room to see if Rick was telling the truth. I didn’t see anyone else. “You get one more chance. Where is he?”

“I told you. Not here, so clear the fuck out.”

“You lose.” I reared back and smashed his left cheek with the gun’s muzzle. He grunted and held his head down, trying to unscramble his thoughts. While he was stunned, I walked behind him, moved his arms behind his back, and put the zip cuffs on him. Now I could relax a little. I looked up and noticed one of the crude paintings on the wall. It said THE INDIAN WARS ARE NOT OVER. I moved back in front of him.

“That’s your freebie,” I said.

He didn’t respond, just stared outward, shaking his head, his eyes unfocused. I worried for a second that I’d hit him too hard and fried his brains. Then I saw him trying to speak and knew he was just dazed.

He struggled to speak for a few seconds, then he put some words together. “Eat shit,” he mumbled.

Everybody had to be a tough guy. Christ, I just wanted to find out where Nathan was, but I could tell he was going to make this difficult. But on second thought, that was fine with me. Time for some payback. Payback for the years of bullying, the drug dealing, the fucking kidnapping. I wouldn’t kill him. Well, not right away. I’d get some information, then decide what he deserved.

I took a good look at him. Long greasy hair, a dirty T-shirt that read SCARFACE, and the fading remnants of a black eye. It looked like he’d already been beaten down recently. And he’d take some more tonight.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” I said. “You’re going to tell me where Nathan is, and why your drug buddies took him. If you don’t, I break your thumb. Then the other one. After that, I shoot your kneecaps. Last bullet goes through your head.”

The kerosene lamp flickered, creating weird shadows on the painting of Chief Red Cloud, the only leader to defeat the US Army on the turf they’d stolen only a few years before. Red Cloud, who’d died forgotten and alone in his old age just miles from here. Rick would join him if he didn’t cooperate.

“We in agreement? Because I don’t got time to waste. Now, where’s Nathan?”

Rick stayed silent, a defiant look on his face.

“I’m not playing with you, scumbag. You know what I do for a living, right? I’ll pound your ass right into the ground.”

He sneered. “Yeah, I know what you do. Beat people up for money. Think that makes you a big man. But you’re still just a half-breed punk.”

I kicked him in the chin, but my boot glanced off his greasy face without doing any damage.

“Why don’t you take these cuffs off, we’ll go at it man to man,” he said. “Unless you’re the same pussy you were back in school.”

“Nothing I’d like better. You tell me what I need to know, you get to leave here alive. I’ll take you on another time, promise. Now, where’s Nathan?”

“Fuck you.”

The fun and games were over. I moved behind Rick and kept the Glock pointed at him. “You right-handed?”

No answer. I put my gun down on the floor, then took hold of his right thumb and started bending it back. The thumb is less flexible than other fingers, and it’s the easiest to snap. I steadily increased the pressure until it was at the breaking point. “All right, asshole, where’s Nathan? Last chance to save this thumb.”