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“So why aren’t you arresting us?”
Fordham grimaced. “Because word came down from the top that they’re closing the investigation.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“Since Eddie’s disappearance, we have nobody on the inside. We have no new intel coming through. We’re basically dead in the water.”
I tried to put it as delicately as I could. “Aren’t you… investigating his disappearance?”
“We’re doing what we can, but that isn’t much at the moment. The trail’s gone cold and we got no leads – and now the money’s run out. We’re supposed to wrap things up and charge whoever we’ve got shit on, which means Lou will go down for a long time… but we don’t have anything worthwhile on the Richards PD, and the Santa Muertes are way the fuck out of our reach.”
“How long do we have to wrap up?” Jack asked.
“A week.”
“It won’t take a week. Couple of days at most. And you’ll get the Santa Muertes and the Richards PD.”
“You better be right,” Fordham said with an unfriendly smile. “Because if the top brass comes gunning for me, I’m going to lay out a couple of sacrificial lambs. Four, to be exact.”
“Great,” Sid grumbled.
“We’re on it,” Jack reassured Fordham. “We’ve got this.”
“Did you find out anything about Eddie?” Fordham asked.
“No,” I said. “Although it was veeeery interesting that the whole time at the meth lab, Lou avoided mentioning the DEA even once. And he told Benjy that Ali betrayed the Riders by working with another gang.”
Fordham shrugged. “Maybe he really believes that.”
“No,” Jack said. “I was there when it all went down. Lou was convinced you guys were breathing down our necks. That’s why he had Ali killed. He’s not suddenly chilled out and relaxed about it.”
Fordham looked down at the floor. “And if he had your cousin killed for snitching…”
He didn’t have to include the second part of the sentence: God knows what he’d do to an actual DEA agent.
Fordham suddenly looked older. Tired.
“We’ve got this,” Jack reassured him. “Just a little more time.”
“It’s good all you need is just a little more time, because that’s all you’ve got,” Fordham said. “After that, I wrap up all loose ends – and you, my friends, are some of the loosest ends I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing. Use your time wisely before you all wind up in a federal penitentiary.”
“Unless we get Lou, Peters, and the Santa Muertes,” I said.
Fordham laughed darkly. “While you’re at it, get Keyser Soze, too. That guy’s a real bitch to catch.”
138
Lou
Capone, Doc, Gunner, and a half-dozen other Riders dug holes near the burned-out hulk of the barn. I smoked a cigar and watched as the sun started to go down over the hills.
These fuckers were strictly the B-team. Unfortunately, all my starters had died at Jack’s the other night, or were pretty much smeared across the ground a hundred yards away.
Gunner’s shovel hit something. Thunk.
“I think we got somethin’ here, Lou,” he yelled.
“Well haul it out, asshole,” I barked.
