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He doesn’t answer. He eyes the deputy sheriff. “Your old man is deep in this too. So, I trust you’ll let it go.”
She doesn’t say anything, but he can see it on her face.
Last, the boyfriend—Ryan is his name. “I understand you’re gonna be a lawyer?”
Ryan nods.
“Do some good in this world, kid. You’ll thank me one day if you do.”
Chaz turns and walks out. He looks forward to not being in Kansas anymore.
Before he starts the engine of the shitty rental car, there’s a loud tap on the window. It’s the redheaded cop. He prays she doesn’t try to be a hero here.
He rolls down the window.
“Fincher. Where is she?”
Chaz thinks on this. No harm, he supposes. “I suspect she’s on her way here.”
He pulls out of the driveway and heads for the airport. He chuckles for a moment. He wouldn’t want to be Fincher when that redhead gets to her.
81
After the police cleared the Centennial Bridge, the odd woman who claimed to be an FBI agent rushes into the McGee home, probably expecting to find the organization’s second-in-command with three dead bodies.
Instead, she takes a punch square in the face.
This one doesn’t feel as good to Poppy as the time she punched her lech of a CO when he grabbed her ass, but it’s close.
“All this for your dead mobster boyfriend?” Poppy asks.
Dazed, Fincher reaches for her firearm, but Poppy gives her another Mike Tyson–worthy jab to the nose and she’s down on the floor. Poppy kicks Fincher’s gun away and examines the woman, who holds her hands to her bloody face.
“Or was it for the money O’Leary paid you?”
Fincher doesn’t reply.
Poppy continues: “And I looked up all that nonsense about studies about tall people, suicides, and ‘coupling’ and the rest of it. It’s all ripped off from Malcolm Gladwell books. You need a new schtick. Anyway, I guess I’m a Holy Fool after all.”
A group of agents bursts into the living room, led by KBI agent Chantelle Luna.
Poppy smiles and says, “Arrest this bitch.”
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
82
PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
Chaz Donnelly sits in a lawn chair in the amphitheater amid the other parents—and grandparents—for the middle school’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Shakespeare in the park. This is Davie’s third play in the past year. Who would’ve thought? Davie the lead in all of ’em.
Chaz scans the field, the families sitting on blankets, sipping smuggled-in wine. He spots Davie’s mom with a cluster of other parents closer to the stage. She invited him to join them, which was sweet. But he needs to keep his distance. He spies the four lugs there to protect Chaz if there are any threats. O’Leary always called them the “half-wit secret service.”
His thoughts trip to Shane. His death sent the organization into a tailspin. With Shane’s brother dead, there was no obvious heir apparent. Brian O’Leary’s son, Brendan, was next in line, but he’s nothing more than cokehead muscle for the organization. He was originally part of Patrick’s crew, and no one would follow him into battle. So here Chaz is, pulled out of retirement, involuntarily appointed. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, indeed.
He misses O’Leary. Shane, like his father, had a wry wit and a knack for management. But he was kinder than his old man, which wasn’t a heavy lift. He liked helping the folks in the neighborhood. And for all his faults, he only wanted to take care of his family, spend time with the love of his life, Gina. But there was no coming back from what happened to their son. Whoever said if you’re seeking revenge, dig two graves—one for your enemy and one for yourself—had it almost right. For Shane and Gina, it involved many, many more.