“Did you learn anything?” I asked.
“No.” It wasn’t an answer from Patrick but a resounding declaration from Sparrow. “Do not change the fucking subject. Why were you on South Morgan Street in Englewood? Was this a lead you’re following up from traffic cameras? And why did I have to call in a request for heroin and then to pad a police report? We have enough fucking unrest on our streets without you two adding more. Not to mention, shit is happening in Englewood. We’ve got capos working the streets for information on the factions and following leads on who’s supplying them. The last fucking thing we needed was this.”
“Boss,” I said, “it is all my fault.”
“Fuck no,” Mason said. “Don’t listen to him. He’s delirious with some near-death shit.”
“I’m not—”
“The dead guy,” Patrick interrupted, “works at Dino’s.”
“Maples?” Mason and I asked together as Mason stepped away from the table.
“No, who’s Maples?” Patrick asked. “I mean the dead one from the shoot-out. He’s on his way to the Cook County Medical Examiner. We tried to intercept his body. Anyway, we know his name is Stephens, Darrell Stephens. He’s been a clerk at Dino’s for the last ten months.”
Apparently, there wasn’t a dead body headed to 1.
Mason and I looked at one another. He was the first to speak. “So the guy who opened fire on us happens to work at the liquor store that has been getting illegal firearms deliveries?”
“And he happened to live across the street from Gordon Maples,” I added.
Sparrow looked at me. “Tell us who the fuck Gordon Maples is.”
“Was,” Mason corrected. “He was a sadistic son of a bitch who should have been dealt with a long time ago.”
“And you know this how?” Sparrow asked.
Mason sighed. “He was one of Nancy’s sugar daddies a long time ago.”
“And maybe not so long ago,” I added. “He admitted to seeing her within the last five years.”
“You went to the home of some guy who screwed your mother and ended up in a shoot-out?” Sparrow asked.
Mason’s green stare came to me. Taking a breath, I put my good hand on the edge of the desk and after a few winces and moans, I stood. “I need to talk to Lorna.”
Sparrow’s stare came my way. “She can wait. This is more important.”
Mason stepped forward. “This and that are the same thing. We didn’t go there because of Nancy. And why we went there isn’t for us to share. Trust us on this.” His stare went to Patrick. “We didn’t know of a connection to Dino’s. It was personal. I remember making a personal trip down to Florida a while back and Sparrow took one to California.”
Patrick stood taller. The trips Mason was referencing had to do with people he and Madeline knew when they were young, people who profited off the young people they befriended. We’d all worked together without asking for details. Sometimes we righted wrongs. Other times we were the wrong.
Sparrow’s eyes narrowed. “After all these years, at the same time we have this gun issue and we’re still trying to find out who took Araneae and Lorna, you two decided to take care of personal business on Sparrow time?”
In our defense, it was never not Sparrow time. Now wasn’t the moment to mention that.
“Lorna...” I took a painful breath. “The connections we made weren’t about what is happening. It’s more personal. The recent events, the kidnapping and finding Nancy’s body, they have awakened some thoughts or memories that any little girl would try to forget.”
“Little girl,” Sparrow repeated, straightening his neck as his fingers clenched. “How little?”
“Ten, but that’s all I’m going to say. Don’t use your imagination. Lorna doesn’t deserve that. You can be pissed at me,” I said, facing Sparrow. “I have just” —I winced again as I took a step toward him— “felt so fucking impotent.” My voice rose. “Someone took our wives—my wife. It’s been weeks, and I haven’t done a damn thing to reassure her that she’s safe in this world. I don’t mean the Sparrow world, I mean the whole fucking sphere. And then last night, she remembered something. It didn’t make sense so I asked Mason.”
Sparrow took a deep breath and stepped back. “I hope you cut it off.”
“Couldn’t find it,” Mason said as his lips curled. “It was pleasurable enough to let him watch himself bleed out.”
“As he was disemboweled,” I added.
“You know,” Sparrow said, “growing up, I thought it was only the sick rich bastards that hung around my father who had fucked-up wants, ones they were willing to pay good money to exercise.”
“There’s no economic barrier to perversion. It’s just that the rich can hide it better,” Patrick said before he crossed his arms and paced a few steps. “My list was long—my personal shit. Are there others you plan to visit?” His lips curled. “I wouldn’t mind working with Kader again.”
I looked over at my brother-in-law. “Talk about a sick bastard, Kader fits that bill.”
“Yeah,” Sparrow said. “Glad he’s on our side. Are there—others?”
“Not that I know of,” I replied. “The thing is, the memories Lorna has had were what Laurel calls those flashes. I think some of them are recent. Like Araneae, she has mentioned a dark-haired man. But she said some other things and” —I gestured between me and Mason— “we put it together that it had to do with a man they lived with as kids. And when given the chance at redemption, Maples didn’t deny it.”
“What are the odds,” Patrick began, “that the Ford truck from Montana with the dark-haired man—who may or may not be Andrew Jettison—who shows up on traffic cams near a liquor store where illegal firearms have been delivered is that same Ford truck that left Nancy Pierce on the verge of death to be found with her daughter, and now the clerk at the same liquor store ends up living across the street from where you and Lorna lived with this Maples?”
“Darrell Stephens didn’t have an old black Ford truck, did he?” I asked.
Patrick retrieved his cell phone from his suit coat pocket. “I’ll send Sparrows back to check it out.”
I sat back down and turned to Mason. “What happened to Zella?” When he didn’t answer, I went on, “And her kid?”
“Right now, they’re in a halfway house guarded by some capos.”
“What?” Sparrow asked. “Who is Zella and if she witnessed it and won’t back up the police story, why is she still breathing?”
“She has a kid,” I said.
“Three,” Mason said. “New info. First two are adults.”
“Adults?” I asked. “How old is she?”
Sparrow shook his head. “No. Definitely, without question, no.”
We looked in his direction.
“I don’t care if you’re fucking long-lost siblings or some other shit, no one is moving into the tower.”
“Oh hell no,” Mason said. “I’m not confident of her continued oxygen intake right now. She was a bitch when she was fourteen, and I doubt that has changed. But she might have information.”