Neon Nights Chapter 28

Zero.

All this for zero.

He felt over the walls and the floor of the safe to make sure there were no secret panels and then sat back dejectedly in the swivel chair, the squeak grating his ears, Billy mocking him from wherever he had managed to get away to.

It should be fun to explain this one to the chief.

He heard a knock at the door and turned around to find JT there. "Everything all right, Detective?"

Marc shook his head.

“Okay, how can I help?” JT asked.

"Sure. Do you know where a biker gang might keep their illegal drugs, cash, and weapons? I'll start you off with a clue of where they don't keep them … the safe."

JT couldn't suppress a laugh.

Marc followed suit and instantly regretted it as a wave of pain shot through his midsection. After a minute, Marc stood back up and

walked towards the wall with the hole in it. He put his head inside the open drywall and looked to the left and right. He spotted what looked like a pile of canvas against one of the studs.

"JT, bring me a light, please."

The young cop walked over, removed the powerful mag light from his belt, and handed it to him.

Marc shined the light through the hole and then waved JT over to have a look for himself.

JT's jaw dropped. "Whoa" "Whoa is right. Whoa is right."

Hiding in plain sight was a damn good strategy.

JT tore into the wall with the baseball bat, sending drywall pieces over the room. After he had cleared out a large section and wiped the sweat away from his face, he reached back and grabbed a handful of canvas duffel bags, spreading them out on the floor.

All this was definitely not for nothing.

Unzipping the collection of canvas duffel bags yielded a plethora of guns, plastic baggies of Prisms, and more cash than Marc could quickly estimate. The bags were loaded into the Grizzly, and Marc stopped at Clyde's cruiser, where the man sat agitated in the back seat. Marc smiled at him and waved his hand toward the duffels in the Grizzly.

Marc felt lightheaded and went to sit on the step-in front of the office, putting his hands on his head, exhausted physically and

mentally. He heard steps approaching and looked up to find Carly with a bottle of water outstretched in front of him.

"Thank you."

He took a long pull from it.

"Well, as much as it pains me to say it, you were right."

"Hold on. There's some ringing still in my ears, and I'm very tired. Can you repeat that?"

"No," she said.

"Come on. Give a guy a break."

"As much as it pains me to say it, you were right. There." "I appreciate you," Marc said with a smile.

"Okay, so we need Billy and those little shitheads, right?" she asked. "I think that's the game plan. Any idea where Billy is?"

"No, you?"

He shook his head and tried to laugh, but his pain was worse now than earlier in the morning. His insides felt like a bartender at TGI Friday's had put them in a martini shaker and put on a show for the Saturday night crowd.

Carly found the perfect window to shoot him a look of disapproval. "Why do you always look at me that way?" he asked.

"Why do you always act this way?" she fired back. "Touché."

"I'm starving," she said.

"Yes! I hoped you would say that. Look, we’re back in sync again." She rolled her eyes.

"You're buying."

"Deal," he said without hesitation.

They pulled up to Fish Tales with only one thing on their mind. An egg hamburger.

You picked your style of egg, meat, cheese, and toppings, and it came on an inverted white hamburger roll browned on a flattop grill. It was one of those sandwiches that kept your taste buds under a spell for eternity. He had tried to replicate the simplicity before, but there was something special about what they did.

Sometimes, you simply couldn't pinpoint the magic in a person, place, or thing.

They both did an over medium, bacon, and American sandwich with light mayo and salt and pepper. With no hesitation, Carly grabbed hers, unwrapped the foil, and took a huge bite. She let out a moan of approval and launched into a second.

"Are you going to chew it?"

She ignored the jab and kept her eye on the prize. They ate without another word until the food was gone and sat thoroughly contented in their seats.

She crinkled up the foil wrapper and stared at him.

"You're creeping me out. Why are you staring at me?” Marc asked.

"Are you still out?" she asked. "What?"

"Out. Quit, retire, move on, whatever you want to call it when this is over."

Marc looked across the parking lot and focused on a seagull pecking for scraps near a tire.

"I haven't decided yet."

She looked over at him. "You should stay. I want you to stay." He turned his head and met her eyes.

"You will be bored to tears at home every day," she said. After another moment, he said, "I don't disagree."

"So …"

"So yes, I will strongly consider it."

She stood up and took their trash to the open red barrel next to the building.

"Kind of a bullshit answer, but I guess it will have to do. I won't beg if you were wondering. That's all I've got in the tank."

He smiled.

"I know, and I appreciate that you said it."

Once they got back on the road, headed westbound, he was out cold in less than a minute.

They pulled up to his house, and Marc woke with a start when the tires clambered onto the gravel driveway.

“I fell asleep, didn't I?" "Yep."

"Did I lay myself back in the seat?"

"No, I took care of it, so you were more comfortable." He cocked his head to the side.

"You didn't have your way with me, did you?"

"I was tempted, but since you snored a bunch again, I felt more irritation than attraction."

"Ouch."

She smiled and opened the door to get out. "Looks like you've got company by the way."

He moved the controls on the seat to bring himself upright again and saw his sister and niece on the front porch swing.

"Hi guys, what's up?" Marc said as he walked gingerly up the steps. Emily gave him a big hug that made him wince in pain.

She recoiled after she realized her mistake. "I'm sorry! Are you okay, Uncle Marc?" Marc flexed his muscles in a series of poses.

"Nothing can defeat me," he said in his best superhero voice.

The little girl smiled at him like only a kid who loves you can smile at you, and it melted his heart.

"Can I see Clark, please?" she asked.

He walked to the door and could hear the scratches, whimpers, barks, and the world's most lethal tail as it slammed into the front door.

"I would step back if I were you," Marc advised his niece.

The little girl smiled and nodded. She moved back onto the swing with her mother. Carly jumped up onto the porch railing.

Marc unlocked the door, and the missile exploded out of the silo as he scrambled to find traction on the wood. He slid onto his left hindquarter and managed to right himself before flying off the steps. The dog then sprinted out fifty feet and stopped on a dime to relieve himself in a potentially Guinness Book of World Records-length pee on a fencepost. He bounded back through the yard and onto the porch, where he went straight up to Emily to give her a massive lick across her cheek.

"I think he missed you," Marc said.

Bonnie looked at her daughter. "Honey, why don't you go run around with Clark for …"

The girl was up and out in the yard with the dog before she could finish her sentence.

"They don't like each other too much, do they?" Carly asked. "From day one when Marc got him," Bonnie said.

Marc looked at her and noticed how much she had aged in a few short days. Her eyes had dark bags under them, her mouth was creased in frown lines, and her hair was unkempt. She wore a pair of light khaki pants that flared at the bottoms and looked like they had been pulled off the floor after a big night out.

"She seems to be feeling a little better," Marc said, nodding to his niece in the yard.

"She is. She's been incredible. She has kept the family stable over the last few days. I'm blown away that she is ten."

Carly jumped off the rail and started to walk towards the step. "I will let you two catch up."

"No, no, you’re good, Carly. I wouldn't mind for you to hear what I have to say one bit."

Carly stopped and leaned against the railing. Bonnie turned her attention back to Marc.

"I didn't like how we left things the other day at the house. I don’t like how we leave things hanging. I didn't like how we left the time before that or the years before that. I heard about your accident this morning and couldn't bear the thought of losing you too."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Emily and Logan need you in their lives, and so do I."

Marc walked over to her, sat down on the porch swing, and pulled her close to him, as all the years of resentment, anger, frustration, and pain melted from them like ice cream on a July afternoon.

When everyone left, he stood under the warm water for twenty minutes as it washed away the last fifteen hours from his soul. His scrapes and bruises hurt under the heat, but the pieces of his skin that weren't on fire felt glorious.

After he dabbed himself dry, he reapplied his creams and gauze and put on a pair of grey tactical pants and a black t-shirt. He sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, disassembled his weapon to make sure it was clean and in good order, and then reassembled it with lightning precision.

His entire body felt a gravitational pull toward the couch cushions. Clark lay at the foot of the couch on a green plaid pillow and cocked his head to look at him, the K9 equivalent of "you going to hang out over here or what?"

He finished the last swig of coffee and walked toward the front door instead as the dog's head returned to the pillow in peaceful protest.

"Last time, buddy," he said from the front door. "I promise you that we will spend some time together tomorrow."

The dog trotted up to him, and Marc bent down and kissed him on his head.

"You keep an eye on the house while I'm gone."

Clark looked at him, spun in a tight circle, and dropped to the ground to take up his post.