Nick put his fingers to Marcello’s neck and got nothing. Lobdell tried Cortazar, then set his hand on Cortazar’s shoulder like he was consoling him. In the silence Nick heard eternity.
“We’re down to one,” he said.
“Ahhhhhhh…”
“Maybe that’s him,” said Lobdell. “Go careful now, Nick.”
They checked the rest of the house. Nothing moving but the hands of a clock in the bedroom.
Out a back door then, toward the moan. Nick first and down low, Lobdell behind. The first outbuilding was full of marijuana bricks wrapped in brown paper. Stacked high as Nick’s head. A couple of industrial scales. Two small humidifiers misting away. Smell so strong Nick wondered if you could get high off it.
The second outbuilding was full of surfboards and wet suits, butane stoves, sleeping bags, tents. A rat scampered along the floor and whipped behind a surfboard.
The third building had a bloody drag mark on the front steps and an open front door. A revolver lay in the dirt. Nick could hear the fast breathing inside. He backed against the front wall.
“United States police! Come out.”
Again in Spanish.
“Can’t.”
“Bonnett?”
“Shot. Bad. Help. Ahhhhhhh…”
Cory Bonnett lay on his back, head up against the wall. Arms and legs spread. Breathing rapid and shallow. Face white and bloody, eyes heavy. His left knee was shot through from the back. Bones flaring outward, splinters and gristle and blood. Right palm blown apart where he’d tried to block a bullet and his right shoulder oozing blood where it had gone through.
Nick held steady on him. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Janelle Vonn.”
“I didn’t do it. Water?”
“I’ll get it,” said Lobdell. “If he jumps up all of a sudden, shoot him again.”
Nick saw Bonnett’s blue eyes open wider to see who had spoken, then nearly close again. Breathing faster now.
“Followed her to Tustin.”
“Why?”
“Worried.”
“Followed her but didn’t kill her?”
“Yeah.”
“Just looking out for her, like a big brother?”
Bonnett nodded and shivered.
“Stop talking, Cory, or you’re going to die right here.”
Lobdell came back with a pot full of water. Nick knelt and steadied it for Bonnett to drink.
Bonnett shivered again. Nick heard a clicking sound-Bonnett’s teeth on the pot rim. Then Bonnett jerked and drove a fist into Nick’s stomach. Hard and low. When Nick looked down he saw the switchblade in him.
“Fuck you, pig.”
Nick jumped up and back. “Lucky, this guy just stabbed me.”
Lucky kicked Bonnett in the face and pressed his gun against his forehead.
Nick couldn’t figure what to do with the knife so he just stood there and looked at it. White handle. Just like the narco jacket said. Touched it. Pulled. It came out pretty easy. Didn’t really hurt. Hardly any blood. Wasn’t sure what to do with the thing now. Pushed the button, folded the blade in, put it in his pocket.
“Sit down, Nick,” said Lobdell. “Sit down and breathe easy and apply pressure. I got this guy.”
Nick saw the violence in Lobdell’s eyes and Nick thought for a second that he’d shoot. Instead he yanked Bonnett over by his hair and got the cuffs out.
“Ahhhhhhh…”
“Yeah.”
“Ahhhhhhh…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, go fuck yourself, you long-haired fairy.”
“Ahhhhhhh.”
Nick looked down at the floor under him but didn’t see any blood. It still didn’t really hurt, either. Figured that was about the luckiest thing that had ever happened to him, the blade just hitting muscle. Was mostly muscle down there, anyway.
“If we take you to a hospital in Ensenada, we’ll lose Bonnett to the Mexicans,” said Lobdell.
“Can he make it back to California?” asked Nick.
“I don’t care one way or another. It’s you I’m worried about.”
Nick looked down again and saw one drop of blood fall from his crotch to the floor.
“It’s only an hour,” he said. “I can make it.”
“I’m going to go get a car.”
“We’ll need a trunk and a gag for Bonnett.”
“I understand that, Nick.”
THEY ENDED UP in a blue Buick Electra that Lobdell had found in the barn. Cal plates, he said, helping Nick into the passenger seat, and a valid reg in the glove box. Bonnett’s Baja car.
On the way to the highway Lucky stopped and stripped the plates and registration off the Country Squire. Took a couple of minutes to swap the plates with the Electra in case Bonnett’s car was hot with customs. Grabbed some food and water just in case. Tossed the Buick plates in the bushes a mile down the road.
Then held a steady seventy miles an hour on Mexico State Highway 1 up past Ensenada and La Fonda and Puerto Nuevo and Santini Las Gaviotas.
Nick pushed the towel harder against his gut. Figured he had a nicked vessel down there after all because the blood wasn’t stopping. Not fast, just steady. His throat was dry and he could feel the dust in his mouth. Looked down at his bloody, filthy hands.
“I can’t believe this is happening, Lucky.”
“I’d trade it in for just about anything, Nick.”
“Cortazar and all those men,” said Nick.
“Nice wife. Her name is Ynez. I’ll come back down and try to explain.”
“Fuck, man, I’m so sorry.”
“We’re going to get you to a good American doctor. You’re going to be okay and they’re going to convict that shithead in the trunk if he lives. All we can do for Cortazar now is help his wife and family. Forget what happened. There’s nothing we can do. Not one goddamned thing. You feeling okay, Nick?”
“It’s been hurting good since La Fonda.”
“It ought to.”
“I’m going to need a blanket.”
“You getting cold, Nick?”
“Not that, just to hide this mess from customs.”
Nick felt the car accelerate.
“I threw some blankets and towels in the back,” said Lobdell. “Don’t worry, Nick. Your job right now is to close your eyes and think about Katy and the family and let me get us to TJ. Try to keep your pulse down.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Try.”
Nick closed his eyes and let his head loll against the window. Road five feet from his head and vibration steady. Sun warm on his face. Thought of Katy and how she felt and knew she’d be furious at him for this but she’d forgive him so long as he lived through it. And Katherine and Willie and Stevie. What a really wonderful family.
“Think my dick nerve got cut?”
“Beats me,” said Lobdell. “Eleven kliks to TJ.”
“Man, it hurts.”
Nick tried to ease off the pain by moving. Felt his butt slide on the vinyl seat. Felt the sticky wet on his hands. Held out the towel and shook his head. Goddamned thing was heavy.
“Toss it out the window when we get past this car,” said Lobdell.
Nick did.
Lobdell gave him a ghastly smile as he reached behind his seat and came up with a clean towel.
“Take it easy, Nick. Think of something good.”
Nick closed his eyes again, leaned his head against the warm glass. Thought of Katy leading cheers for the Tillers in fifty-five and fifty-six. Thought she was the prettiest girl in the world then until she came down the aisle on their wedding day, April sixth, a year later. Remembered the class smartass telling him in the locker room back then that any guy who married right out of high school was gypping himself out of tons of good young pussy. Odd the way this had struck Nick. Probably truthful but a slap at Katy so Nick had grabbed the guy’s hair and pulled his head into the toilet and given it a flush.
“Yeah, Luck. I just shoved his head in there and flushed it. I remember the way his voice echoed. Like he was gargling in a tunnel or something.”
“That’s interesting, Nick. Quiet now.”
“Do you think there’s really any truth at all to astrology?”
“You mean that age of Aquarius horseshit?”
“Or it could be not even related. In a direct way.”