“I say let’s do it and be done with this guy,” King said.

A hint of fear appeared in Spankly’s eyes. The cuffs tinkled as he fidgeted with his hands.

“Last chance before I turn you over to King,” Hank said. “Who hired you?”

“I don’t know,” Spankly said.

King leaned down again. “How can you not know?”

“I didn’t see him.”

Hank lifted a brow. “Then how did he hire you?”

“I got a phone call. Offered me five large to off the two of them.”

“And how did you get paid?”

Spankly shrugged. “Didn’t yet. After the job’s done.”

King laughed. “You’re a real businessman, aren’t you?”

“He said he knew me from prison. He dropped some names and it seemed like I could trust him.” Spankly’s head swung back and forth between Hank and King. “He said he would call me again when the job was done and arrange for payment.”

“And you have no idea who it was?” King asked.

Spankly shook his head violently. “No idea.”

“You’d better not be lying. If you are, we’ll know, and you’ll find out pretty quick we know.” King leaned in close to reinforce the threat.

“I ain’t lying,” Spankly whined. “And I didn’t kill nobody.”

“You’re sure it was a man?” Hank asked.

Spankly nodded vigorously.

“What was his voice like?”

“Normal voice, I guess.”

“Like yours?” King asked, and then threw his head back and laughed.

Spankly said nothing, his eyes burning with renewed hatred.

Hank stood, opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway.

“Don’t go anywhere,” King said, laughed again, and followed Hank from the room.

Jake turned as Hank opened the adjoining room and stepped inside. The cop glanced through the glass. Spankly sat quietly, his head down, his hands clasped together.

“It’s too bad we couldn’t find out who hired him,” Hank said. “But at least we know he’s the one who tried to kill you. You two should be safe.”

“Safe for now,” Jake said. “But whoever hired him might find another way.”

Hank nodded. “Unfortunately, you might be right.”

Chapter 27

Wednesday, 3:27 p.m.

ALFIE OWENS always protected his little sister—from other boys. But when no one else was around, Amber was the subject of as much torture and teasing as any eight-year-old could muster.

And like most boys he knew, he was quickly becoming an expert at making girls mad.

Amber, a year younger, was entrusted to his care each day as they walked home from school. This day was no different from any other.

Amber walked ahead, stepping carefully on each railway tie in perfect rhythm, one foot, and then the other, counting as she went.

One, two, three, four, five,

Once I caught a fish alive.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten,

Then I let it go again.

Alfie stopped and crouched down. He had spied a small tree branch by the side of the tracks. He picked it up, grinned, and used it as a prod to hurry his sister along.

It didn’t take her long to get tired of it. She spun on her heel, put her hands on her hips, and faced her bully brother. “Alfie Owens, if you don’t stop that I’m going to tell Dad and he’ll give you a good lickin’.”

Alfie laughed. “I doubt that. We all know you get mad a lot about nothing. Who’s gonna believe you?”

Amber moved closer, her eyes flaring, and grabbed for the branch. Alfie laughed, backed away, and stuck out his tongue. “Scaredy Cat.”

She stopped and glared. “I’m not a-scared of you,” she said.

“Maybe I’ll tie you to the railroad tracks and let a train run over you,” he said, with as mean a face as he could muster. “Then you’ll be afraid.”

Amber stuck her nose in the air. “Leave me alone.” She spun around and marched away from her tormentor.

It wasn’t in him to quit. In three quick steps he held Amber’s long, auburn ponytail in his fist. He tugged, not too hard, but none too gently.

She’d had enough for one day.

She reached up and freed her hair from his grasp with a tug and a toss of her head, and then spun around. She reached to push him away but he stepped back. She stopped and crossed her arms as he taunted her. “Scaredy Cat. Scaredy Cat.”

Amber’s eyes flared and she stepped closer, but Alfie turned and loped ahead. She followed, angry now, not afraid of the bully.

A few steps in front of her, Alfie stopped short. The look on his face made her forget her anger as she followed his gaze toward the row of bushes along the side of the tracks.

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. She brought her hands to her face, covered her eyes, and peeked carefully between her fingers at the startling sight in front of them.

Alfie moved in a step. The branch in his hand no longer served as a torture device, but was now being used to prod at the foot of the man who lay on the ground beside a bush.

Alfie crouched down and looked a little closer. He was pretty sure the man was dead. The only other person he’d seen dead before was his grandmother and that was a long time ago. But his grandmother didn’t have flies buzzing around his head like this guy did.

And grandmother didn’t have blood all over her like this guy did.

Alfie looked up at Amber. She stepped back, her face still turned toward the body, her eyes clamped shut, her arms wrapped around herself.

He stood and turned toward her. “It’s a dead body,” he said. “Amber, don’t you wanna see the dead guy?”

Her eyes remained sealed and she shook her head vigorously.

“Scaredy Cat,” he said.

She turned her back on him as he crouched and continued his visual examination. The man’s eyes were open, staring at the sky, but Alfie was pretty sure the guy couldn’t see anything.

“I’m afraid,” Amber said, her voice quivering. “We’d better tell a grown-up.”

“Scaredy Cat,” he said, continuing to eye the body curiously. “The guy’s dead. He can’t hurt nobody.”

Amber walked away.

He crept up behind her, yelled “Boo”, and she jumped, spun toward him, and glared.

He leaned in and laughed. “Scaredy Cat.”

Amber turned and walked away, her head high.

He sighed, stood, and followed her.

Amber stopped. “There’s a house,” she said, pointing. “Maybe there’s somebody home.”

They were less than twenty feet from an access lane running from the tracks, past a house, and to the street beyond.

She led the way, Alfie following, across the back lawn to the house. He stepped past her, climbed up on the back porch, and banged on the door.

An old woman finally answered, a curious frown on her face. She was at least as old as Alfie’s mom and he figured she must be at least thirty-five. Maybe more.

Alfie looked her in the face, turned sideways, and pointed toward the tracks. “There’s a dead guy back there. I ain’t afraid but my sister is.”

The woman frowned, looked at Alfie, and then looked at Amber who was furiously nodding her head. “There really is,” Amber said. “He lies a lot but he’s telling the truth this time. I saw it too.”

The woman looked back and forth between the two kids and then raised her eyes toward the back of the property. She turned, slipped on a pair of shoes, and stepped out onto the back porch. “Show me,” she said, her tone revealing she wasn’t certain whether or not to believe the far-fetched story.

Alfie marched off, leading the way. Amber stayed close at the woman’s side as they followed him across the lawn and up the lane. He stopped and pointed.

The woman gasped, took a step back, seized Amber by the arm, and half-dragged her to the house.

Alfie took a last glance at the man on the ground and then turned and followed, swishing the stick through the air and wondering if all girls were scaredy cats like these two.