Author's note:
The penultimate chapter of Messy contains absolutely no sex. If that's what you're looking for, please read one of the previous chapters again, or wait a week for the first half of chapter 23.
Chapter 22 contains a description of a previously mentioned crime. If you are sensitive to graphic language or a description of violence, please do not read the following.
*
"Fuck that noise, you need to go," Deirdre exclaimed as I barged in the back door of my home.
"And fuck you, I ain't running," Tori shouted back.
"What's going on?" I barked, stopping before the two women raging at each other in the living room. They both turned to look at me, Deirdre's hand leaving her service weapon as she realized it was me.
"You need to go," she said, low and steady. "You all are i -- "
Tori cut her off. "We ain't going anywhere. Let'em come. They've pushed us around long enough!"
"Both of you shut up for a minute, then someone explain to me, clearly, what the fuck is going on." I turned to find Sienna standing in the doorway looking nervous and scared. "See, go upstairs and change into something...else."
The blonde sprinted past the women in glaring at me, and I sat down at the table, set the gun that had been hanging heavy in my hand since I stepped out of my vehicle on the table. "Ok. Deirdre, shoot. Tori, you go after her."
Deirdre sat down at the table across from me, and I marveled at how different she looked in her uniform. She looked...severe. A harbinger of bad news. "You're under threat right now, Gary. The people who killed your friends, they know we're closing in on them, and we're pretty sure you -- you and Victoria here - on the top of their to-do list."
"Back up, I thought we killed those people." My voice was sarcastic.
"You were investigated initially, but all that publicity, that was just cover so we could keep investigating the real killers. This is huge, Gary. Like, terrorism task force huge."
"Terrorists. Really?" I kept going with the sarcasm."Explain to me how I ran afoul of ISIS."
Deirdre looked at me like she wanted to punch me, cry, or kiss me. "Not ISIS. But you did piss off a bunch of religious fundamentalists gunning for you for defiling their daughter, whom they honor-killed after they were radicalized by a distant under-surveillance uncle who snuck down from Toronto last year."
Oh. Fuck.
My head spun.
Nina's FAMILY.
"Surely you guys cleared the family after her death. Right? I mean, that's like police work one oh one."
"You ever pay attention to Minneapolis crime statistics, Gary? Like how something like sixty percent of our homicides happen in like two square miles, and only thirty percent get solved? There's a huge community out there that doesn't talk to police, stonewalls police, hides people from police. They didn't want to be found, so we couldn't find them."
"And now you've found them?"
"Not...Exactly..." she hedged. "Do you know Maynard Postelthwaites?"
"It doesn't ring a bell. Sounds like a chemistry nerd."
"Did you hear about the shooting this weekend?"
I shook my head. "I've been out of town since Friday. I assume Mr. Pocket Protector is involved?"
"You could say so. Some of the people responsible for the murders you were tied to tried to attack his...convoy...on Saturday. They got, to put it bluntly, fucked up."
"One, that's fantastic news, two, who is this Maynard guy? What does he have to do with anything?"
She shrugged. "I figured you guys knew each other, you run in kinky circles and you apparently had his address on your computer. He's a big oil exec who lives out in the woods, travels with a heavily armed retinue. He looks kinda like Kevin Spacey, has a really hot blonde wife that rarely leaves their property. Ring any bells?"
"Dammit, that's The Senator. He's, he's a guy I run into occasionally at meetups, Tori sold him some furniture a while back." I snorted at the idea of the dignified man being named like a lab geek.
"He's not a senator," Deirdre told me pointedly. "In fact, he's under investigation for using his money to hire hitmen and mercenaries outside the country. Probably the same ones that stepped up to defend him on Saturday."
"And what does he have to do with all of this? I barely know the guy, Nina met him maybe once, James knew him a bit better, but not like, spent time with him, were best buds or anything."
"There was one survivor of the attack on Postelthwaites's caravan," she continued. "The responding officers said it looked like something from Syria. We found one guy, started questioning him as soon as he was out of surgery. You left your laptop unlocked, Gary, and they're pulling names off it and trying to kill anyone they think may have 'defiled' your friend Nina."
"Those aren't Gary's names," Tori interjected, a horrified look on her face. She sat down heavily in another kitchen chair. "They're mine."
"Your business," I said.
Her voice was quiet. "I shared your laptop cuz I didn't want to shell out for a copy of Excel."
"We think that your home invasion was the work of a couple members of this group. They're growing bolder according to the one we have in the hospital. They started with that red paint on your door, and that out of town radical uncle keeps whipping them up to bigger fervor."
"That would explain my cut brake lines", I mused. "And my...oh fuck... They know about the cabin." All the feeling of violation and danger I'd felt after the break-in came hurtling back.
"You have a cabin? Where?" Deirdre seemed shocked.
"My parents left it to my sister when they died. She gave it to me but it's still in her name. That doesn't make sense though, I don't have that address in my computer, I'm sure of it. No one knows about it."
"Wait, what are you talking about?" Deirdre looked confused.
"We spent December up north at the cabin," Tori replied. "Someone sabotaged his snow mobile, he almost died."
