Start with Chapter 1
CHAPTER 31
April 6, 1979
Dean and Guthrie waited in the parking lot outside Bridewell’s for Josh. Dean flicked the cigarette out of the window when he saw Josh’s car pull into its regular spot. Both detectives left the car doors ajar as they got out and walked up to Josh, who was tossing a windbreaker into the back seat. His eyes widened when he saw who was approaching.
He did not protest at all as Dean grabbed him by the elbow and escorted him to the backseat of his car. Both he and Guthrie slammed their doors, and Dean drove off.
A brief rain had wetted the sidewalks and pavement. A light mist still fell, and the sound of the wipers scraping off the water every so often broke the silence in the car.
Dean saw Josh turn his head at the police station as they drove by. He looked back to the front and caught the detective’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He frowned and looked away. Dean had to hand it to him, Josh was acting far more calmly than he expected, which told him Josh knew exactly why he was picked up that morning.
They pulled off the main road shortly after leaving town and followed its bends around hills and avoiding nasty potholes. A mile back, Dean pulled over and turned off the car.
When Dean and Guthrie opened the back door, Josh fell into form. “No. No. Why are we here? You don’t have to do this.”
“Don’t be a goddamned pussy.” Guthrie grabbed one of Josh’s legs.
Dean grabbed the other, and they both fought off the kicking and pulled Josh out of the car, where he landed with a thud on the crushed gravel road. As Josh winced in pain, Dean rolled him over and cuffed him, squeezing them tight.
“Those are too tight,” said Josh.
The air smelled of wet, oily pavement and the wood and loam of the forest.
Dean and Guthrie lifted Josh up and stood him up with his back to the back passenger door.
“You know why we’re talking to you?” asked Guthrie. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
Josh nodded quickly.
“Tell us.”
“I didn’t have nothing to do with it.”
“With what?”
Josh crunched his eyes, grimaced, and opened them again. “I heard a cop was killed out by the lab.”
“That what you call it?”
Josh nodded.
“His name was Reggie. He had a wife and a kid. He was just doing his job,” said Dean.
“And he was gunned down like nothing. Ambushed.” Guthrie pulled a long drag off the cigarette and tossed it half-finished to the road.
“It wasn’t me. I just helped out making the crank. Made some extra cash. I had nothing to do with it.” His eyes darted back and forth between the detectives. “Don’t hurt me. Please.”
Dean rubbed his chin. “Tell us.”
“What?”
Guthrie plowed his fist into Josh’s stomach, who doubled-over and vomited instantly. The foul smell of his breakfast and acid and bile joining the forest smells. “You don’t want pain? Then don’t be stupid.”
Dean pulled Josh by the shoulder and stood him straight again. Tears were flowing down his cheeks. “Jesus, kid, toughen the hell up. Tell us.”
Josh wiped his mouth on his shoulder. “I help make crank. And the lab is where we make it.”
“Who do you help?”
“Alex.” Josh looked away. “Alex.”
“Is that who I saw you with two nights ago?”
Josh looked away and looked back. “You saw us?”
Guthrie punched him again, sending Josh down to his knees, coughing.
Dean could check that off the list: Josh did not know he was under surveillance. He lifted Josh up again. “Yeah, I saw you. That was Alex?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he set up the ambush?”
“Ambush?” He winced when Guthrie raised his fist, but Dean held up his hand.
“Yeah, what happened yesterday was an ambush.”
Josh looked back and forth wide-eyed at the detectives. His lip trembled. “I. I. Shit. I don’t know. I just helped Alex.”
Dean waved his hand. “Fine. How’d Alex distribute his meth?”
“Oh, he just made it for Zorn. A way to make money quick. Zorn bought all of it. I don’t know what happens. I never even saw Alex sell it. He just said he sold it and did it.”
“The Grim Devils are buying your meth?” asked Guthrie.
Josh nodded.
“So it was them that ambushed us?” asked Dean.
“I don’t know. Seriously, I don’t know.”
“What happened after you left the lab with Alex two nights ago?”
“I took him home. I went home. I went to work yesterday. Usual day.”
“How often did you help Alex?”
“A couple of times a week. Usually brought supplies. Sometimes he’d ask me to hand him things or watch the process while he caught a nap.”
“We were watching Alex before you. He didn’t go out there at all.” Guthrie put his hand on the hood of the car behind Josh.
“He said we needed to cool it. That we were doing it too often and people would ask questions. He said Zorn told him to stop for a week or so. So we did.”
“And Zorn said to start up again?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you ever talk to Zorn?” asked Guthrie.
“No. Alex did all that. I just helped Alex out.” Josh looked at Guthrie, pleading for him to understand.
“Was Billy part of this?” Dean pulled out a Camel and lit it.
“Billy?” He flinched even though neither detective moved. “No. No. Billy wasn’t part of this. He knew about it. Thought it was stupid. Gave some speech about drugs being bad for society and stuff.”
Guthrie took a step away from Josh and tugged at his ear. “Because they are.”
“So where’d Billy get his cash from?” asked Dean.
Josh shrugged. “I don’t know. But Billy wasn’t part of this.”
“Corey?”
Josh sighed. “He wanted in, but Alex wouldn’t let him. Said he was too much of a hot head.”
“So just you and Alex cooking up crank for Paul Zorn?”
“Yeah, man. Yeah.” Josh bent over, sobbing. “I’m sorry.”
Dean sat down in a catcher’s stance and put his hands on Josh’s shoulder. “Why’d Alex show up at the Shambles after you and Corey and Billy left? Did you meet Alex there?”
“Yeah. Corey and Billy were already gone. I went back and waited outside after they left. Then Alex showed up.”
“Why?”
“Alex needed me to help him. He had a big order due. He and I were out there almost all night.”
“So Alex did all the dealings with Zorn?”
“Yes. Yes. Jesus, I’m so sorry.”
Dean stood up.
Guthrie pulled Josh up by the shoulder. “Sorry about what?”
Josh could not utter the words through his sobbing, so Guthrie pushed him back, not hard but hard enough he stumbled and collapsed to his knees.
“I think you broke him,” said Dean.
“Ah, fucking puke. He’ll know when I break him.” Guthrie pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
Dean took a pull from his flask and handed it to Guthrie. They looked at each other. Dean shrugged, and Guthrie nodded. They knew Josh had nothing to do with the ambush. He was barely able to participate in delivering supplies to cook meth. They had been right that he was the weak link. Now they had an in to Alex and even Zorn.
But what about Billy? Was the meth thing a wrong lead on Billy? Maybe Alex had gotten Billy to do something for him that Josh did not know about. How much would you tell this guy crying on the ground anyway? Alex already had his dad talking for him. Alex was the next rung of the ladder. They would have to bring him in and make it seem unrelated to Billy’s murder to avoid the DA from stopping it before it starts. Alex had legal counsel for the Billy case but not this meth distribution. It might give them a slight opening, a space to talk to Alex before he wised up, if he did not do it immediately.
“Ah, come on man.” Guthrie stubbed out the cigarette.
Dean awoke from his thinking. Josh was running down the road, and Guthrie was already three steps into a sprint. He fought the urge to join the chase, watching, instead, Guthrie run after the kid. When it became clear that Guthrie could not catch up, Dean threw the cigarette, jumped into the car, turned it around, and roared down the road. He watched Guthrie in the rear view mirror still running. He passed Josh on the left, hit the brakes, and swerved into a stop, flinging the door open as he did.
Josh veered right onto the grass that hugged the road and then down the small hill that led into the woods. Dean ran after Josh, half sliding, half running down the hill. He heard Guthrie behind him, panting heavily. As they tore into the woods, the sky was blotted out, and the forest darkened everything, making them feel as if it were overcast. He heard a stumble and Josh cry out in pain.
The detectives found him, reaching for his ankle and grimacing. Guthrie put his hands on his knees and breathed heavily, sweat dripping off his forehead.
Between gasps, Josh said, “Please don’t kill me.”
Guthrie looked at him and spat at his feet. “What do you think we are, fucking monsters?”
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