“I’m going to see him.”
“If you do, it won’t end well.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m telling you, if you go there, he will take you out. Guaranteed. You need to be prepared. The guy’s a trained killer.”
“I can take care of this.”
“I know you can. But I’m going with you.”
“I said it was just me and him.”
“So, you lied. Since I’m here, let me go scout the place. Eyes and ears for you in case it is a trap. I’ll watch him from afar with the sniper rifle.”
“That wasn’t the deal I made with him.”
“We’ll both go. He’s not the only one who’s a trained killer.”
Forty-Five
McNeal drove back onto the highway. His mind raced, as he squinted against the oncoming headlights. He was going to meet Graff. He could be killed. Maybe Graff’s crew were lying in wait. His reactive plan, his plan B, was now in play, but not in a way he had expected.
The lights of oncoming cars flashed past him. “Fuck!” It was happening fast. Unfolding like a fevered dream.
The miles rolled by. Deeper and deeper into the dark, verdant Maryland countryside. Jefferson. A place he’d never been to. He wondered just how well Graff knew the territory.
The more he thought about the situation in which he had become embroiled, a situation of his own making, the more McNeal began to ask himself what the hell was wrong with him. Was he blinded by grief? Was Belinda Katz rightly concerned for his mental state? Was he suffering a breakdown?
Was this a fucked-up mind game Graff was playing with him? It was true he wanted answers about Caroline’s death, but he knew better than anyone that taking the law into one’s own hands was never the smart move. Never the right choice. McNeal had let himself be led by emotion. By gut instinct. He was definitely not using his head.
He wondered if the burning rage he felt at his son’s senseless death was fueling his desire for some kind of revenge. Some kind of justice. Or maybe his recklessness was just part and parcel of his personality, something he had kept hidden from most.
The more he thought about it, the more he questioned if he even wanted to live anymore. Did he have a death wish? Maybe he didn’t care if he lived or died. Was that it? Had he become like his dead former partner, Juan Gomez? Did he want someone to end his life? Was that the driving force?
On and on the questions mounted, with no answers in sight.
McNeal had investigated hundreds of cops who had embarked on similarly hotheaded adventures, all ending in terrible mistakes. Cops stalking estranged wives. Psychotic cops roaming the streets in the dead of night, screaming and hollering at anyone that would listen. Suicidal cops who wanted their partners to put them out of their misery.
McNeal knew that if all his layers were peeled back, the one constant was the loss of his son. He had never gotten over that. Never would. He should have tried to come to terms with it. He should have done the therapy sessions. But he hadn’t. Instead he kept all his emotions in check, as he had been trained to do. But the animal instincts were always there.
McNeal drove on. Headlights pierced the nighttime highway gloom. He got closer and closer. He passed a sign for Frederick.
He turned off the highway and drove into town.
The two-way radio buzzed and he pulled over. “Yeah?”
“Jack, the gas station?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m here. Up the road from it.”
“Is he there yet?”
“No one’s here. It’s abandoned.”
“What do you mean, abandoned? It’s not open?”
“I mean it’s an old, run-down place. There are old gas pumps still there but nothing else. The shell of what was once a diner. It’s empty. The place looks like it’s been like that for years, maybe decades.”
“What else?”
“I see there’s a restroom adjacent to the diner. A pay phone next to that.”
McNeal’s mind raced as he tried to figure out a plan. “You can see the pay phone clearly with your night sights?”
“Got it.”
“What’s the number?”
“Hang on . . . got my hunting binoculars with night vision in the trunk.”
McNeal waited for a few moments as he got closer.
“Bingo! Got the number.”
“Write that down. Then text me the number.”
“What’s the plan?”
“You wait where you are with your lights off. You let me know when he arrives. I’ll text him telling him to pick up the pay phone when it rings. And then I’ll call that number.”