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."
"Ok, so how did they know where it is? All they have is the laptop, if that wasn't on it..."
I shrugged. "Nina knew. Sienna knows. I emailed one colleague at the college to come up for some hunting two years ago."
Deirdre pulled out a notepad. "Name? We'll go talk to him."
"Dennis Everet. He's an accounting professor. Back on topic. So these guys are dead or in the hospital. You were telling Tori we needed to run."
"They're not all dead or in the hospital. They've got probably ten to twelve left, and they have to know we're connecting the dots after they botched that attack on Postelthwaite's caravan. They're still pissed they missed the two of you, and if they think we're closing in..."
I glared at her."We have jobs. Lives. This would be the second time the police have forced us to give those up. I'm not going anywhere just because you show up on my doorstep and say some radicals want me dead. Do you know how ludicrous that sounds? Almost as ludicrous as accusing us of fucking murder."
"The fuck you're not running," the redhead growled. "Your friends were viciously murdered. I know because I was there. I saw what they'd gone through. I fucking SMELLED it. You don't get to tell me your part-time piece of shit job is worth more than what I experienced. I will not do that again." Her voice went quiet. "Not for you."
"Ok, assuming you're right, what do we do, witness protection?"
"You a witness to anything?"
"Fuck," Tori breathed.
"Go to a hotel for the week. Find the tiniest town you can pick off a map, stay in a Motel Eight until the end of the week."
"What happens then?"
"We'll have them. We'll get it out of the asshole we've got in the hospital, and we'll put them in prison. Take a week off, and everything will be wrapped up by next Monday. I promise."
I thought of Jessie, sitting in her rocket. "I can leave the state next week?"
"Yeah."
I heaved out a sigh. "What about the cabin, can we go there?"
Deirdre shrugged. "If you think it's safe. I mean, we have no idea if they were there, how they would've gotten the address. That was probably some bored kid messing with your snowmobile. We're very confident they're in Minneapolis right now, so yeah, going somewhere remote is a good idea. We have the makes and models of their vehicles, we're on the lookout, if they try to leave the city, we'll roll up on them."
"What if we just stay here? Go to work tomorrow, sleep next to our guns, and wait." Tori sounded small but resolute. Her golden brown skin had an ashen tone, and she reached out to grip my hand ferociously.
"They might not come for you. If they do, you'll die. These sick fucks will kill you, no exceptions. They don't fear death, they've got a lot of firepower, and they think you dishonored their family. That's why they butchered three people on a highway in the center of town in December. They're going to keep coming for you, keep killing, and if you think a couple of nine millimeters are going to stop them... You're wrong. They will kill you. And it will be fucking ugly. For you two, especially ugly."
I felt overwhelmed. My ears rang loudly, and the world seemed to narrow, like I was viewing it through the wrong end of binoculars. Someone wanted to kill me. Cause me unimaginable pain and then turn off the lights, end everything I was, like flipping a switch. It was brutal, disgusting knowledge of the basest kind, and I fought the sour taste of panic in my throat. "Ok," I croaked. "We'll go up north. But this had better be finished next week. We can't live like this."
Deirdre covered our hands with hers. "It will be. Hang on, I'll be right back." She left through the front door, and Tori and I looked at each other. The Latina seemed to have aged ten years since I'd walked in, and I reached out and stroked her cheek. It wrenched at my heart to see her afraid, in pain. "We're gonna be ok. I promise."
