BOYD
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Fuck. Drive.” I shouted as Martin hit the gas and drove off in the stolen hatchback.
I wanted something unobtrusive and plain so we didn’t attract attention.
I wasn’t sure if I hit the kid or not. But I did know I needed to get rid of the car as soon as possible.
Thankfully there were not many cops at the front of the station.
From what my contact could tell me, the MDF PD was a small station and since the town didn’t see much crime, they wouldn’t be expecting anything.
But that woman with the kid had him down before I even had a chance to fire the second shot.
I aimed lower but I knew I didn't make contact.
As soon as we were around the corner, we both exited the car as fast as possible and hid in a nearby warehouse. It was part of the plan. The police station may not have been bursting with officers but someone was bound to come after us as soon as possible.
“Let’s get inside quickly. We can pretend to look around.”
Martin followed my lead and before long we were both wandering through the warehouse to the mall on the other side.
We dropped our gloves in a trash can and strolled as if we didn’t have a care in the world.
It was all part of the plan. Look presentable to the locals.
Dress the part of tourists in a tourist town.
Our contact had let us know the kid was at the station and our inside person had let me know when the kid took a break.
Finding someone to bribe within the police station was not easy. But thankfully I had childhood friends in high-ish places. Not that getting to the brat a second time would be easy. Marina De Ferrier was a small town, and almost everyone loved the fucking Salingers.
Who knew the kid’s biological family had connections in every law enforcement and military entity in the country.
AntMan, the contact who had found the kid for us, had warned me not to cross that family.
Maybe he was right but I couldn’t have the kid identifying me.
Though, according to the police report in San Francisco, he hadn’t seen any of my men or heard what they were saying.
So, there was no reason for him to connect me to what happened at his house.
The only thing I knew for sure was that without the kid’s testimony, the state had nothing and the case would go cold.
No one knew how I was connected to that family.
No one knew what was happening at the school.
And there was no way they would ever connect the fact Bill took the janitor’s job at the school was for my benefit.
Not even the kid knew what his stepfather was up to. I was almost certain the wife knew, which was why she had to die. Of course, Bill had died because he got greedy. He thought he could steal from me. Even worse, he stole from Garth Folsom. That was never going to be tolerated.
“What now, Boss?” Martin looked at me. “Should we make our way back to our own car?”
“Not yet.” I had no doubt the police would be patrolling the area where the car was abandoned and they would likely check all the motels in the town, as well. We were better off staying at the mall and not attracting any attention to ourselves.
“Right, so when will we know what happened to the kid?” Martin spoke in a whisper, but his obvious anxiety still attracted a few too many eyes.
“Will you calm down? The last thing we need is to stand out.”
Martin looked away. He said nothing but I could tell he was worried. AntMan had put the fear of God in him. Apparently, no one fucked with the Salingers and lived to tell the tale. Well, that was all fine and well, but those fuckers were protecting the kid. And that kid needed to not be alive.
“How will we know what happened? We need to get somewhere we can get the news.”
That was probably for the best. I had to know if the kid was dead. If not, I would need to regroup and try something else. Perhaps luring the kid away from the clutches of his new-found family? That seemed like the best solution if he wasn’t already dead.
Martin and I eventually made our way to where our car was parked at the beach.
Since it was a coastal town, nearly everything was close to the beach.
Earlier we had parked and taken a walk to the small mall, and walked to the other end where we looked for a nondescript hatchback to break into.
Or more specifically, we needed one to pull into the mall parking lot and the owner to just shove the key into his or her pocket.
Stealing a car was no longer as simple as hot wiring a vehicle.
With the way things were computerized, it was necessary to refine how we do things.
Once Martin had pickpocketed the woman by bumping into her and causing a scene while pulling her key fob from her pocket, we had everything we needed. We wandered around the mall for a little longer before we made our way to the cheap piece of shit.
We knew our contact would tell us when the kid was outside again. We didn’t expect it to be so soon, but apparently the mother suggested he take a break.
As soon as we had the go signal, we’d made our way around the front of the police station and did what was necessary. I still wasn’t sure if I was successful, but if not, I would try again.
There was no way that kid was going to testify. By the time we made it to our hotel in the posher side of town, at least an hour had passed and I figured we would hear something with the next news bulletin.
In the car there had been two news blasts and not one of them mentioned the shooting at the police station.
I checked the television schedule and saw I had some time before the next scheduled bulletin.
Marina De Ferrier wasn’t big enough to make the major news stations, but anytime a police station was targeted, it made the news.
That was what I was hoping for. And since no one saw who was in the car, I could not be implicated. Not at all.
I had just finished in the shower when Martin knocked on the door and poked his head in without waiting on my answer. “The news is on.” I wrapped a towel around my waist and stepped out of the bathroom. I switched on the TV and waited for news about the shooting.
The presenter spoke of the incident in a modulated tone. Two things struck me. One good and one fucking bad.
The bad news was that on the screen was a sketch of Martin. The kid knew what he looked like. But more importantly, he was now a known suspect in a shooting, killing at least one teenager.
I let out a sigh of relief. I had no idea how they got the sketch. I thought we squashed it and I was pretty sure our lawyer could refute it. More importantly, I’d hit my mark. Dominic Bayers was dead.
Before I had a chance to celebrate, Martin’s phone rang.
He picked it up. “It’s my sister.” He swiped the screen and answered. “Hello. Yes. What do you mean not to worry? My face is all over the news. Every cop in the county will have my face.”
There was silence and Martin nodded as the other person spoke. “Okay. Yes, I’ll let him know.”
He disconnected the call and looked at me.
“What is it?” My voice held more than a little irritation. I wasn’t in the mood for Martin and his family’s theatrics.
“It’s a smoke screen.” He looked at me with concern. “Dominic Bayers is not dead. They just want us to think that.”