I get three hours of TV reruns and an hour of sleep before my phone rings and confirms the sick I felt in my gut.
It takes only minutes from when my phone rings to bound out of bed, take a piss, get dressed, and haul ass out my front door. Jay Bishop waits for me and stands beside a woman not a day older than twenty-one.
“Jesus, Bish.” In the pitch black, I walk a wide lap around the woman, careful not to step too close and contaminate the scene. “She didn’t die here.”
“No.” With shaking hands, he holds a half-smoked cigarette and stands guard. “She got mouthy, she didn’t want what Hayes was ordering her to do. His second in charge slit her throat and ordered me to play delivery boy all the way out here.”
“We’re half an hour out of town, man. He wanted her far away.”
With a long nose pistol in one hand, and the cigarette in the other, Jay Bishop bounces his foot and works off nervous energy. His world has already spun irrevocably out of control. They should’ve pulled him already. His superiors should’ve pulled Jay Bishop a month ago, even if it meant he had to walk away from his brother. But he won’t go without Kane, and Kane has no clue his brother is a cocaine addict and so messed up, he can’t stand still or stop fidgeting.
“Hayes ordered me to bring her here,” he croaks. “Far away, but still your chief’s jurisdiction. He’s making a statement.”