I said nothing else the entire ride to Hoboken, and as we pulled in front of the center, I knew I’d been right. Sal’s was the real deal. It was a front business for either the Scarpones or Lee Grady. The Scarpones had a few of them, including Dolce, one of the most popular Italian restaurants in the city.
“Where are the other guys?” Colin said, finally turning to look at me when I found a spot to park across the street. Trucks were lined up in the lot down the block from Sal’s—ones that were not being used. All identical to the ones that had been “delivering” to Sullivan’s. After I had another one of my guys do some digging, he’d found out that Sal’s actually delivered to Sullivan’s on the regular.
Nothing suspicious about it, until the trucks that came and went that day added up to the magic number seven. Either Sullivan was preparing for a feast made of vegetables, or the truck I stole was going to pick up drugs at the dock after regular delivery hours ended.
Bingo on theory two.
I stepped out of my car, going around to the passenger side, waiting with my back against the hood. A few seconds after I did, I noticed Raff pulling into the parking lot, going to get directions on where to go from there. He was going in place of the guy that was being held at one of the safe houses I had in the city.
Colin stepped out. He looked left and then right. “How are we going to do this alone, Kelly?”
“Trust, Colin McFirth,” I said. “Do you trust me?” I looked him straight in the eye. Those were the exact words he had used right after he gave me the story about the key.
A second. Two. Three. He swallowed hard. Nodded. But said nothing.
It took over an hour for the truck Raff was driving to leave. It was one of the last ones. Raff didn’t pass in front of us, but after he drove out of the parking lot, he pulled over a few seconds later. I didn’t want Colin to see him.
I gave it another two minutes and then hit Colin on the chest. “No more trucks,” I said. “We’ll check the lot down the street. We can see if the number on the key matches any of them. If it does, we can use it to follow that one.” I nodded toward Raff’s truck. “We need to hurry, though. If he pulls off, we don’t have shit.”
“Yeah,” Colin said, out of breath. He hadn’t taken two steps.
We casually walked down the street, like we were going for a stroll, and then slipped into the parking lot without any trouble. The lot had one small light, and it haloed some, but it wasn’t enough to truly see by.
I could see enough, though.
I lifted the key. “Number 22.” I pointed to a row across from where we stood. “You check that one. Whistle if you find it.”
Each of the trucks had a number painted on the side, toward the bottom, and they seemed to correlate with a number engraved on the key and written on a keychain.
Colin nodded and then hustled across to start looking. I stood with my back against one of the trucks, counting.One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.
A low whistle sounded.
Ten fucking seconds to find a truck that was one of many.
“Bingo,” he said, when I found him, pointing to the faded 22 on the truck.
My smile came slow. I flung the key at him and he caught it. “You drive.”
“Nah,” he flung it back, and I caught it with one hand. “I didn’t even bring my driver’s license. And don’t we have to wait for Raff to get in the back? Where is he?” He looked behind me, but didn’t find anyone.
The key flew through the air again, this time harder, and it clanked against his silver ring when he caught it. “No time to wait for him,” I said, then I took out my gun and pointed it at his head. “Get in the fucking truck and start it. Now.”
“Kelly, don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what, Colin? Set you up to get slaughtered? Raff, too?”
At one time, Colin and Raff had been tight. Apparently when loyalties change, so does the value of friendships. Raff had even taken a bullet for him when his girlfriend at the time tried to shoot him in the balls after she found out he’d cheated on her.
He lifted his hands. “I might’ve gotten the trucks wrong.”
Lying to the end.
“It is what it is, Colin. The truck or the gun. You know if it’s not mine, it’ll be Grady’s.”
We stared at each other for a second.
“You can think about running,” I said, reading the thoughts behind his eyes, “but you won’t get far.”
