Page 40 of Sebastian
“Look, they’ve left the area, and we want to know where they would have gone,” said Chief. “Are there any more safe houses, any other properties of your deceased friends?”
Joey looked at the men, shaking his head. They knew it all. They’d been fools to think that they could get away with this.
“No. No more safe houses,” he said. “They probably tried to find someplace they could pay cash for, although they don’t have much cash.”
“What the hell? They’ve been robbing banks. How do they not have cash?” asked Hex.
“Because they never kept much for themselves,” said Shel. “Don’t you guys get it? They were truly giving it all to the rest of us to help us. They’d keep a few thousand for food, utilities, anything else, but they didn’t get rich from it. Hell, they were driving a ten-year-old mini-van for a while.”
“So, places they would need to pay cash for,” repeated Hex. Shel nodded. “Motels, not hotels. Campgrounds. Mobile home park rentals.”
“I guess,” said Joey. “I know you have to do this. I know they killed those two agents, but I also know they didn’t mean to. Before you say it, I know that doesn’t matter. But you boys have to understand how much good they’ve done. Dozens, hell, hundreds of people who have their medications, surgeries, treatments because of them. I know it was wrong. We all know it was wrong, but in a lot of ways, it was right.”
“Joey, we do understand what you’re saying, but we can’t condone bank robbery and murder. We just can’t. The system is broke, no fucking joke about that,” said Hex. “We’ve got some friends working on making changes right now. I wish to Christ that we would have known about this sooner, and we would have figured out a way to help.
“Their intentions were good, but their methods failed. Now, the people who really need help may not get it because of them. They’ll either be seen as crazy old people gone off the rails, or Robin Hood and his merry men. We just want to find them so that no one else dies.”
“Do you have a phone number or e-mail address for them?” asked Chief.
“We don’t use e-mail much,” said Shel. “We know that you kids can track that stuff nowadays.” The two men smirked at being called kids. They weren’t much younger than the people seated before them.
“They didn’t like using cell phones much. Jeffrey told them not to because they could be traced as well. He bought them throw-away phones. You know, the ones that you can use once and toss in the garbage. Had a whole bag of them. We never knew what their numbers were.”
“That’s more helpful than you think,” said Hex.
“Help?” scoffed Anne. “You can’t trace an untraceable phone.”
“News flash, Anne. Nothing is totally untraceable.” She gave a deathly glare to Hex, and he returned the favor.
“Look, you can think what you want,” said Joey, “but we would do it all again. We’re sorry about what happened with those agents, but everything else? Well, everything else we did intentionally.”
“I wouldn’t tell the judge that,” frowned Chief. The two men stood, knocking on the door for the guard. When he opened it, they turned to the others and just stared at them.
“You know what makes me really sad about this?” said Hex. “You all were supposed to be part of the greatest generation, the baby boomers, with work ethics and intelligence that only experience and wisdom could bring. I still believe that. I’m just sad that all of you didn’t exemplify it.”
Hex and Chief dragged their feet as they left the interrogation room. They’d freed women and children from traffickers. They’d brought down drug lords. They’d killed terrorists. But somehow, in some strange way, this felt like the worst case of their lives.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Ryan? Ryan, it’s me,” whispered Jeffrey into the darkness of the building. He watched as his brother walked out between two rows of pallets piled high with electronics, guns, and, most likely, drugs.
“Are you okay?” asked Ryan. “Did you see Mom?”
“I’m good, and no, I didn’t see Mom. I can’t get inside a prison right now, Ryan. We can figure out how to get her out later. Are you guys ready for tonight?”
“We’re ready,” said Ryan. “Are you going to be able to get inside that evidence warehouse?”
“Don’t worry about that. I have everything I need. Once we get in, I’ll take care of the guard, and you guys get your shit and whatever else you want. Just follow through on what you promised, Ryan. I want my money.”
“You’ll get your money,” said his brother.
They couldn’t have been more different in appearance. Ryan favored his father, who had also been in a gang. He was covered with tattoos, even on his face. He had piercings everywhere, and his clothes always looked dirty even after they were freshly washed. Their mother thought he hung the moon. Probably because he was always giving her money.
Jeffrey was different. Tall and slender, he only had one tattoo, and that was of a nude woman. It was face down on his abdomen. Her head turned to the side with her mouth wide open right at the appropriate location of his hardened cock. He got a kick out of it. Women did not.
Growing up with Ryan was hard. Older by three years, he was always more adventurous, rougher, harder. Their mother didn’t seem to mind at all. It reminded her of her one true love, Ryan’s shithead father, who left her pregnant and alone, sending a few hundred bucks via a courier every few weeks. That was all she got for raising his bastard child.
Jeffrey’s father was the owner of a local hardware store. He was respected, kind, hardworking, and the target of The Silencers. Not willing to pay their protection money, Ryan and his buddies killed him late one night, making it look like a robbery. It didn’t matter. Jeffrey knew. But he couldn’t be angry with his brother. His father should have given them what they wanted.