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There were text messages for him, on the virgin phone. The first was from Aaro. Short, succinct, rude. A phone number, and then:
Det. Sam Petrie, PPB. Knock yrslf out butthead
The next was from Kev. Even briefer.
WTF? call me now
And another, from Sean McCloud.
W8ting 4 news ??
Scariest call first. He hunkered down, pulled one of the new cell phones that Aaro had brought for him out, stuck in his own chip. True, once the cop had a warrant out for his arrest, he’d be able to identify where the signal had originated, but by that time, he and Lily would be long gone. And hopefully this whole situation would be already resolved.
He sucked in air, dialed the detective’s number.
It might be suicide, but damn it, he was not a criminal, and he would not behave like one. It was his civic duty to let the cops know how matters really stood. They were doing a tough job as best they could, protecting the citizens of Portland. It was the right thing to do.
Whether or not he was fucking himself up the ass by doing it was another matter entirely. His jaw twitched, clenching painfully.
The call connected, and the guy picked up. “Sam Petrie here.”
“Hello, Detective,” he said. “My name is Bruno Ranieri. I’m calling about one of your cases.”
There was a dead silent blank moment. “This iswho?”
“Ah, Bruno Ranieri,” he repeated. “I’m calling about the three dead guys behind Tony’s Diner on Sandy Boulevard this morning.”
There was another pause, and then, “I’m listening.”
“So, uh, I was coming out the door of the apartment building, and those men attacked me. In the process of defending myself, I, uh…”
“Killed them,” the cop finished, heavily. “And left them there. On the ground. For your neighbors to find.”
Oh, shit. This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. “It was legitimate self-defense,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm, even. “They were armed, I was not. There’s blood spattered around the scene, some of it’s mine. Vomit, too. Also mine. Just, ah, so you know.”
“Why didn’t you call us? Why didn’t you stay at the scene?”
Bruno forced the breath out trapped in his lungs. “I had reason to believe that we were still in danger,” he said tightly.
“We?” Petrie repeated, and waited. “Tell me about these reasons.”
“I don’t know much yet,” he hedged. “I wish I did, believe me.”
“Let’s take this a step at a time. Who is ‘we,’ Mr. Ranieri?”
Bruno decided there was no reason to be coy. Lily had claimed not to be in trouble with the law. And the bad guys already knew her identity. Maybe this guy could help find answers for her.
“Her name’s Lily Parr,” he said. “She’s from New York City. These people are trying to kill her. They’re highly skilled, and well organized. She’s been fleeing them for over a month.”
“Ah.” Petrie’s voice was relentlessly bland. “Who are these people? Can you identify them?”
He gritted his teeth. “No, I can’t. And neither can she.”
“Neither can she,” Petrie repeated slowly. “That’s fascinating. Does she know why they’re pursuing her?”
“No,” he said. And it sounded so very wrong to him. A big, fat, lie that only a pussy-whipped idiot like himself would believe.
Petrie grunted, clearly no idiot. “You’d think she’d have an idea.”
