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I barked out a laugh and sat back, staring at the ceiling. “No kidding. They got a death wish?”
“Yeah, poor sucker is at the bottom of the harbor now or somethin’, since Tello sent a fish emoji,” Daniel said with a flash of a grin. Then it vanished. “But what’s really fucked is the FBI isactually on his ass, trailing him and shit. Tello’s gotta look every inch the Boston cop for a few months.”
I sat up and gave my cousin a wary look. “Should we be talking to him?”
Daniel shot me acome-the-fuck-onlook in return. “Give me some credit, Ty.” I nodded, and my cousin continued. “Anyway, Tello began to wonder if maybe a Boston cop was giving them tips. Why else would they look at Tello? He’s supposed to be untouchable, like Switzerland.”
“Great. A flag-waver cop with a white knight death wish,” I groaned and rubbed my forehead. “Just… great. Did Tello say if Dean was right about it being Mickey Weiss?”
“Yeah, it’s Weiss,” Daniel said. “Tello said he was waiting for us to reach out, too.”
“How ominous,” I commented.
“Looks like Mickey Weiss has been workin’ for years on every crime family but most of his shit is on Hendrix and us. What’s really scary is that Weiss has shit from when your dad was running the business.”
“Wait.” I sat up, my heart pounding and looked sidelong at Daniel. I could survive prison. Daniel, on the other hand… “What does he have on you?” I asked and gripped Daniel’sshoulder. “Should you fly out tonight? Go to Italy, lay low with Luca.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Daniel said in a detached tone as he tensed under my grip. “He doesn’t have much on me. Most of it is onyou, Ty — enough to put you away forever.”
I digested this and nodded, then asked in a quiet voice, “You lying to me about what Weiss has on you, Danny?”
“I know better than to lie to you,cugino.”
“You better,” I said and let out a relieved breath. “Wait, am I the only one he’s got dirt on?”
“No,” Daniel said, and I saw a grin curve up onto his face. “Like I said, Weiss has enough to take out every family, but especially Hendrix.”
I grinned now. “And you said there wasn’t any good news...”
“Oh, Tello sent a picture,” Daniel said. On his computer, I saw a JPG file appear in the chatroom, and then Daniel opened it. Tello had sent us a copy of what appeared to be an employee photo ID of a balding, middle-aged, nondescript cop — save for the stern set of his jaw — and the name on the bottom readMickey Weiss.
Alright, maybe Tello could keep his balls after asking for two hundred grand.
“Well,” I stood up and re-buttoned my jacket, “let’s go pay Mickey a visit and thank him for all his hard work.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Lia
The last place I expected to end up was a few streets over from where I’d grown up. Curled up on a bench in one of those small neighborhood parks that defined the North Brookline neighborhood of Boston, I gazed up at the sky, wondering again how I hadn’t realized howcloseit was to the old neighborhood.
Somehow, it hadn’t hit me the first time I’d been here, four days ago.
It wasn’t until last night when I was walking towards theTand glanced down the busy main road that the storefronts and trees had rearranged into a familiar pattern.
So, naturally, I’d gone home and thrown up a few times.
Now, I tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. After all, it wasn’t like I’d spent much time over the past year or so thinking about the past, never mind the blue house I’d grown up in or, God forbid, my mother. But it was different when I was on the streets that I’d walked with her, rode my bike up with my friends and explored.
Knots weaved in my stomach as I tried to adjust on the bench, pretending to peer at my phone when, in reality, I was trying to view Mickey Weiss’s house from under my hood.
I needed to steal the cop’s information on Tyler Michaelson as fast as possible and get the hell out of here.
At least White’s information on Mickey and his schedule had been pretty accurate. He lived on Lawton Street, right across from this little park, number fifty-two. The house was mostly brick but it had a shingled middle strip. For some reason, it made it look a little sad. It wasn’t falling down but it was dated, clearly from the 70s or something. Plus, it was a little too small for the cop, who was a big and no-nonsense dude, but perfectly square.
I mean, Mickey parked his cruiser at a perfect right angle in his driveway. He always beeped to lock it twice and carried in his duffel bag like it was part of his immaculate uniform.
I’d thought I’d need all five days to figure this guy out, but Mickey left every day at 6:45 a.m. and got home around 4:30 p.m. Then he vanished inside until about seven o’clock before he came back out and went for a walk, always returning with take-out that alternated between a sub and something from a Thai place.
