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“I know. What’s done is done, there’s no sense in getting heated about it.”
Kellan let out a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his thick hair and shaking his head.
“This is bad. This is very, very bad.”
I did a quick look of my own around the room. The place stunk to high heaven, and it made me damn sick to my stomach to know that a person had been living in this kind of squalor.
“Maybe Eddie should’ve sprang for a potted plant or two; dingy place like this and I can’t blame her for running away.”
“Funny,” he said. “But seriously, Eddie’s not going to like this at all.”
“Who were the two guards in charge of this operation?” I asked.
“Two punk little shites in their early twenties; that kid Jimmy, and… Colt, was the other one.”
“The buck stops with us, as the yanks say,” I said. “But Eddie’s going to want to know who, exactly, was responsible for leaving the feckin’ door open.”
I turned and took another glance at the door, still having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that they’d straight up forgotten to shut the damn thing. But what was done was done.
“Eddie’s going to blow his goddamn top,” Kellan said.
“Then it’s better he does it sooner than later. First step is we call Pussycats, get the word out that this little bird flew her cage. Once that’s done, we drive straight to Eddie’s and tell him what happened.”
Kellen’s expression was steely. “Yeah. Needs to be done. Not looking forward to what the boss is going to think about this, but the longer we put off telling him, the worse it’s going to be for us.”
“Right. Let’s move.”
With that, we left. In the car, Kellan gave Pussycats a ring, getting one of the managers on the line and asking if anyone had heard from Kiki. The manager called back ten minutes later, letting Kellan know that there was nothing to report.
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” I said. “If I were her, the last thing I’d do is contact anyone at my old place of employment.”
“Right. Damn good chance that she took the first bus south to New York or some such thing.”
He’d hinted at what we’d both been thinking—that the odds of finding her again were slim to none. The rest of the drive was silent as we headed to Eddie’s place. I’d never been the type to worry, but I couldn’t help but wonder how Eddie was going to take the news. My stomach clenched at the idea of the likely fates in store for the idiot guards who’d let her escape.
Eddie’s place was in North End, the oldest part of Boston. He owned a gorgeous three-story townhome that dated back to the earlytwentieth century, a mansion in the middle of the city.
As we pulled around the corner onto Prince, the street where his house was located, we saw the flashing red and white lights of an ambulance.
“What the hell?” Kellan leaned forward as he spoke.
The closer we drew, the more I could see that the ambulance was indeed parked in front of Eddie’s place.
Something had happened.
“This isn’t good, brother,” Kellan spoke.
I said nothing but agreed with him all the same.
“What if it was her?” Kellan asked. “What if the girl slipped out, made her way over here and got her revenge?”
“Not likely,” I said. “Last I saw her she looked like she barely had the energy to walk a mile, let alone pull an assassination. Let’s park and find out what the hell’s going on.”
I came to a stop a hundred or so feet from the house, Kellan and I wasting no time hopping out of the car and hurrying down the road. Two ambulances were parked in front of the house now, a team of EMTs standing in the yard, the front door wide open.
“No police cars,” I said. “That’s a good sign. Well, as good of a sign as we could hope for.”
Before Kellan could respond, a second team of EMTs burst out of the house pushing a stretcher, Eddie’s huge body lying on top of it.
