“They have good shakes, yeah.”
“But here’s the thing.” Sandoval shook his head. “I cannot tell youa time I’ve been there when I did not see at least one cop car in the parking lot. And you had one ofmyguns? Up on your dash?”
“I told the lawyer at the bail hearing,” Horne said, “it was an accident.”
“Yeah, he passed that on, Daniel. But to me, it sounded more like a lapse in judgment. And it got me thinking—Does Danielhavegood judgment?’Cause you’re privy to a lot of my operation.”
The waitress returned with Sandoval’s cigarettes, and he grabbed at the plastic strip to open them. But after a moment, he looked to Horne. “I tore the strip,” he said. “You keep a knife on you, don’t you, buddy?”
Horne reached into his back pocket and produced a switchblade, which Sandoval flicked open. He sliced at the Marlboro packaging and pulled a smoke from it. Lit up.
“The word you used with my attorney, though,” Sandoval said. “Accident.That’s more interesting than my word. See—accident, Daniel, that encompasses a lot of subcategories.”
“Encompasses?” Horne said, his forehead furrowed in confusion.
“Includes,” Sandoval clarified. “Car crashes… poisonings… ODs. There are age groups, Daniel, where accidents are the number one cause of death. Did you know that?”
Horne shook his head, and my phone buzzed. Richie calling. I silenced it.
Sandoval pressed the button, and the switchblade flew open.
Flick.
“See, Daniel,” he pointed with the knife, “I got my master’s at Duke in interdisciplinary data science. I spent a lot of time getting to know uncertainty. Studied topics like risk tolerance and mitigation. Y’ever heard of those things?”
“I heard of Duke,” Horne said. “Not that other stuff.”
“There’s an age, Daniel. This is awful, but… a toddler doesn’t have enough strength in his neck. He drops a toy in a toilet and goes after it. Leans his head in. Drowns in there.” Sandoval shrugged then, his voice becoming lighthearted. “But you know… it’s just an accident, right?”
Horne said nothing, but his eyes moved to Sandoval’s heavies, looming on each side of the table.
“Whatever I can do to make it up to you, Mr. Sandoval—”
Flick.
Out came the knife again.
“Well, I’m gonna think on that, Daniel. But maybeyougot ideas. I could leave a few guys here to brainstorm with you?”
“Okay,” Horne said, his voice turning optimistic.
Sandoval stood up then, and the waitress came by.
“You all right, hon?” she asked.
He held up his cell. “Business call, actually. No rest for the weary, right?”
He pressed a hundred-dollar bill into her hand, and I watched him walk off, passing across each screen. His movements were effortless, his gait that of a man floating. He reached the outside and got into one of the Escalades. Took off.
When I looked back, the booth was empty, the knife taken by Sandoval.
I turned to Vincent. “Where’s Horne?”
“Bathroom, I think.” He pointed. “Past the pool tables.”
On camera four, the second Escalade pulled up to the red curb outside. I called Cassie’s phone. “Cass,” I said, “you see the bodyguards?”
“They split up.”
