No Good Deeds Part 17

22.

Salisbury?" Lloyd said, making a face. "You taking me to a club in Salisbury?"

"Where did you think we were going to go?"

"I dunno. Philly. Wilmington, even. A city."

"Salisbury's a city."

"Sh-it."

They were driving along U.S. 50, the route they had taken east three days earlier, which now felt like a lifetime ago. It was the weekend of daylight savings time, so what was today's nine o'clock would be tomorrow's ten o'clock. The sky was inky black, with just a few stars poking through, like rips in a scrim. Crow enjoyed the quiet and the darkness, which reminded him of the countryside close to his hometown of Charlottesville. But Lloyd was too busy pouting about their destination to notice the world around him.

"A club?" Ed Keyes had echoed when Crow consulted him, scratching his red-stubbled chin. "I might could get you in my VFW lodge, although I don't think they allow minors."

"You belong to the Veterans of Foreign Wars?"

"Vietnam," he said. "I only joined to get access to the lodge parking lot. It's near a good clamming spot, but you can't park there unless you're a member. They tow."

"Lloyd wants to go hear music, be around people his own age."

"s.h.i.+t, I don't know. Ask the cas.h.i.+er over to the Sh.o.r.e Farms. I think she's got family down there."

The bright-eyed young woman did know of a club, which she described in rushed, excited tones, clearly hopeful of an invitation. Crow felt almost guilty not taking her elaborate hints, but it would have complicated things, getting too close to anyone over here.

The club, such as it was, was in an abandoned bank in downtown Salisbury. From the outside there was little sign of the activity that marked the hot Baltimore clubs-a valet parker for the high-end SUVs, dolled-up women teetering on their high heels, the occasional gunshot-but the Sh.o.r.e Farms cas.h.i.+er had sworn by the place.

"Doesn't look like much," said Lloyd, every inch the world-weary connoisseur. But how much experience could he really have in clubland? He wasn't of legal age, and he wasn't someone who could pa.s.s for older than he was, even with the best fake ID. They wouldn't have been able to come here if it weren't for the fact that it was "Teen Night," an alcohol-free evening for the high school set.

Lloyd pimp-walked toward the door, determined to be unimpressed. But when the second set of doors opened, revealing a packed room of girls in filmy tops and tight jeans dancing to a hooky hip-hop song that Crow recognized from listening to WERQ, Lloyd couldn't help smiling just a little. 'Twill do, his expression seemed to indicate, 'twill do.

"Sorry." A bouncer's thick arm came down, a swift and certain barrier, blocking Crow from the club.

"But I'm with him."

"Teen Night," the man said. "No one over nineteen admitted."

"But-"

"You can come back and pick up your...son at midnight."

"Today's midnight or tomorrow's midnight?" Crow asked.

"What?"

"Never mind. Look, I need to keep a watch on my friend. I promised his, um, people that I wouldn't let him out of my sight."

"He somebody?" Asked with 90 percent skepticism, 10 percent hope. Lloyd could be some on-the-rise rapper, up from Atlanta, pa.s.sing through.

"You could say that." Crow tried to load his voice with subtle insinuation, as if anyone who was anyone would recognize the young man who had just entered the club.

"And you're, what? Like his bodyguard?"

Crow gave the slightest of nods. It was true, in a fas.h.i.+on.

"Tough s.h.i.+t," the bouncer decreed, folding his arms across his chest. "See you at midnight. Tonight's midnight."

Crow waved frantically at Lloyd, who was disappearing into a group of teenage girls, but he paid no attention. Crow would simply have to sit outside the club for the next three hours. Ah, well, it was an opportunity to find a convenience store, pick up new phones. He wondered why Tess hadn't called as instructed or at least left a message. Maybe he had chosen a provider that didn't work too well in her area. He'd try a new one this time. It was strange, not speaking to Tess directly for almost a week. She must be up to her eyeb.a.l.l.s in work. s.h.i.+t-the Ellen Mars case. He had forgotten that he was supposed to help Tess with that. But she had to understand that nothing was as urgent as keeping Lloyd safe.

While part of Lloyd felt superior to the teenagers dancing to what was an outmoded song back in Baltimore, a tired old thing that had been at the height of its popularity last fall, the girls were as pretty as any he'd seen back home. A stranger in their midst, he wasn't getting much play, but when he started cutting up, doing his trademark comic moves, they began to notice him. He set his sights on a dark-skinned shorty with processed hair and a juicy body. She didn't seem to be with anyone in particular, and she let him dance closer and closer to her. Now he had her eye, and she was smiling at him, matching her moves to his. He was smoothing it out now, toning it down so he looked serious about what he was doing but keeping his face clownish because she seemed to respond to that.

Thing was, he didn't have anything to tempt her with. Crow had paid his admission fee but neglected to give him any spending money, and he didn't want to go in search of him now to ask. That would be weak. He didn't have a car he could take her to, although he could always get one. That's why he had started learning to steal cars in the first place, to impress girls. But that would probably be a bad idea here. Country police didn't have enough work to fill their days. And the cracker types around here would probably come down hard on his black a.s.s. No, he couldn't invite her outside for a ride.

He felt the b.u.mp in his inside breast pocket, the unicorn box. Weed, now that was something he could offer.

He leaned in, his mouth close to her ear. She had a nice fruity smell. Might be gum or something she put on her hair.

"You smoke?" he asked.

Wide-eyed, she shook her head. What was this, like, Teen and Church Night?

"Wanna try?"

To his delight she nodded and took his hand, leading him to the bathrooms at the rear of the club. With a quick glance around for lurking authority figures, she ducked into the men's room, and he followed. The stall's lock was broken, but the old metal frame was warped enough to hold the door.

"You're pretty," he said, not thinking clearly, allowing what was in his head to pop out. That was a punk thing to say. Le'andro always said you shouldn't compliment a girl too early in the game. "What's your name?"

"Glory."

"Gloria?"

"Uh-uh. Glory. You're not from here, are you?"

"Naw," he said pridefully. "I'm from Baltimore. East Side."

There was an awkward silence, and he tried to think of something to ask her, but to his amazement and delight she started kissing him. She might not have smoked before, but she seemed familiar enough with this. Maybe he wouldn't have to break out the weed after all.

But she stopped as abruptly as she had started. "Show me."

"Show-"

"What you promised."

He pulled out the box, showed her the cache within. s.h.i.+t, he didn't have papers. How was he going to make use of it?

"That sure is pretty," she said, running her fingers over its surface. "When it's empty, can I have it?"

"Ain't gonna be empty for a while. There's more than an evening of fun here." Trying to hook her, set up the long-term play.

"Maybe you could put it in a Baggie, let me have the box tonight."

"I don't know...." He was reluctant to give up the box, for reasons he wasn't sure he could explain even to himself. Glory began kissing him again and this time added the extra touch of placing one shy but game hand down the waistband of his pants. Okay, maybe she could have the box. He put the top back on it and returned it to his pocket so his hands could tend to her. Dancing, she had looked young, a babyish fourteen who just happened to have a grown girl's body. He hadn't counted on getting a lot from her. But now she seemed ready to do just about anything. He was trying to figure out if he should let it go now, give himself up to that warm hand or get her somewhere he could get inside her. Maybe if he sat down on the toilet seat and pulled her on him- "What the f.u.c.k you doing?"

The stuck door was dislodged with such force that it caught Lloyd in the back, catapulting him forward into Glory, who all but fell into the toilet, which made her sputter and squawk in indignation. It would have been funny if he hadn't been scared to death. Lloyd grabbed her and swung around, so she was between him and the invader, a tall guy with dark, angry eyes. And a gun. f.u.c.k, even in the country, the n.i.g.g.as had guns.

"You her boyfriend?" he asked, trying to think how he would plead his case.

"I'm her brother."

A boyfriend, Lloyd might could deal with. It would still be bad, he'd probably get the c.r.a.p beat out of him, but a boyfriend might get that it was an honest mistake, the kind anyone can make when a girl leads you to a bathroom and begins kissing you. After all, if this was Glory's boyfriend, that was probably how they had started. A brother-no chance. A brother would kill you if he could, just like that scene in Scarface. Lloyd did the only thing that seemed likely to save his a.s.s, dropping to his knees and crawling out from under the stall, then running full-tilt into the club, trying to lose himself in the crowd.

He thought he heard a shot but told himself it had to be something else, a balloon popping, a car backfiring. At any rate, he didn't look back, just kept running for the door. Out on the street-f.u.c.k, no Crow. No Crow! And Lloyd didn't have time to look for his worthless a.s.s. He just had to run as fast and far as he could and hope he was running away from trouble, not into it.

An hour before Teen Night was to end, Crow returned to the street with two new cell phones and a couple of magazines he had been delighted to find at the local Sh.o.r.e Farms-the Atlantic and Harper's. He ran the heater as necessary, dispelling the chill from the car. The solitude was a nice break. He hadn't really been alone since Lloyd had shown up on the doorstep Tuesday morning. He liked the kid, who could be good company when he wasn't brooding or complaining, but it was nice to be alone, too.

As midnight approached, other cars began pulling up, parents fetching their kids. Crow hung back, aware that he was all too visible, a white guy picking up someone who obviously was not his son or younger brother. Ed was right. They had to be careful about drawing attention to themselves.

It was only when the bouncer, the one who earlier had denied him entrance to the club, padlocked the door that Crow realized that Lloyd was never coming out.

PART THREE.

TINY TOWNS.

SUNDAY.

23.

Tess? It's Whitney. Just FYI-an IRS agent called out of the blue, wants to go over the foundation's books. Not a problem, but I thought it was awfully coincidental."

"Hey, hon, it's Kitty. This man-I didn't get his name-came by the bookstore late, just before closing. He wanted to talk to me about my arrest outside Supermax, when I was protesting the Thanos execution. He had a photo. Of me, that is. He's tall, African-American, close-cropped hair, maybe thirty. He would be handsome if he smiled."

"Tess, it's your mother-" But that one she answered.

"Hey, Mom. What's up?" As if Tess didn't know. She had been getting these calls and messages all weekend.

"Not much. A strange man just rang our doorbell, said we should talk to you about what you were "into." An FBI agent, very nice, but I let him know in no uncertain terms that I work for NSA and I am not intimidated by such tactics, that he had another think coming if he thought-"

"Great, Mom. Is Dad there? Did they talk to him?"

Her father picked up another extension, but Tess could still hear her mother breathing on the line.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey."

"So who talked to you?"

"IRS."

"You worried?"

"Not really."

Patrick was the world's most laconic Irishman, but Tess was expert at listening to what he didn't say, and the anxiety in his silences was chilling. It was one thing to destroy her own life by keeping her promises to Crow and Lloyd. And even Whitney had sort of signed up for this. But her parents hadn't. She wondered how long it would be until Crow's parents were called, what insinuating questions would be poured into their ears. That would be unfortunate on many levels. For one thing it would alert them to the fact that their son was missing.

She a.s.sured her parents that everything would be fine and hoped it wasn't a lie. She then called Tyner, told him to be on standby, certain that the three caballeros, as she now thought of them, would come for her again. And, sure enough, Jenkins and Collins arrived just after eleven.

"Back to the courthouse?" she asked, trying for chipper but coming closer to chirpy, her voice high and crackly as a teenage boy's.

"For now," Jenkins said. "But don't be surprised if you end the day in federal lockup."

"What, you're going to charge me with a crime?"

"Probably," Jenkins said, expressionless. Collins simply smiled a terrible smile.

Crow had driven around Salisbury until dawn, but he couldn't imagine where Lloyd had gone, not in the short term. The kid had probably headed back to Baltimore, catching a ride with someone who lived west of Salisbury, planning to hitchhike the rest of the way. Scared for his life just five days ago, he was now bored out of his mind and wanted to go home. With someone like Lloyd, boredom trumped mortality. Father Rob had warned Crow about that. It had probably been a plan, using the club as a ruse to get away.

Of course he couldn't have known, going in, that he and Crow would be separated. But he had seen the opportunity once it presented itself, concocted a plan on the spot. Lloyd was smart that way.

Stupid, too.

At least Crow could go home now. Or would, once he called Tess and told her Lloyd was missing. He hoped that information wouldn't make her waver in her resolve to protect Lloyd. Then again, if Lloyd was stupid enough to go back to Baltimore, maybe he didn't deserve their protection anymore.