She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,154

away, and I regretted saying them out loud the moment they left my lips. I caught a quick glance from Reid to the large guy Dunk called Truck.

The smile fell from Dunk’s face, and he slouched back in his chair. “You still blame me for the diner, don’t you? For the shit Alonzo pulled? I told you I had nothing to do with it. Alonzo wanted Crocket dead, simple as that. I took five fucking bullets that day and nearly died. He turned me into a fucking cripple. If that was all part of some elaborate plan, it sure as shit wasn’t a very good one. If I wanted to take out Crocket, I would have done it myself. I would have knifed him, I would have wanted to watch the life leave his face, up close. None of that cowardly Godfather’s tommy-gun execution bullshit. Killing innocent people, people I loved, my friends. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t sanction that. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Alonzo was a shit,” Reid muttered. “Not a smart one, either. He was screwing with Crocket, dipping into funds and lining his own pockets. Crocket found out, planned on going after him. Alonzo panicked and acted first. Acted stupidly.”

Dunk leaned forward, looked me directly in the eye. “I. Wouldn’t. Do. That.”

My stomach churned, and my mouth filled with the taste of Jack Daniel’s from earlier. I should have brought the bottle with me. I couldn’t look at him. My eyes dropped to the poster of Stella.

“Where is she?”

Dunk sighed. “Tell me you believe me.”

“I believe you. Where is she?”

“That didn’t sound very sincere, Jack.”

I shook my head, stood, and nearly knocked the table over with my knees. “I’m not doing this.”

Truck dropped a hand on my shoulder before I could take a step. He pushed me back down into the chair. “Sit.”

Dunk waved a hand at him, and the large man released my shoulder. “Fine, Jack. You don’t have to say it right now, but think about it. Spend a little time on it, and you’ll figure out the truth. You’re a smart guy, and you know me. You know me better than anyone else.”

At one point, that was probably true. Not anymore, though. This wasn’t the kid I grew up with. He became some kind of thug. I followed enough of the local news to know he took over all of Crocket’s endeavors, just like the detectives said he would. He ran the local drug trade, probably prostitution and gambling, too. Even if what he said were true, and Alonzo Seppala had killed Crocket on his own, only Dunk benefited. More importantly, Gerdy, Krendal, and the others would still be alive if Dunk hadn’t gotten wrapped up in this world in the first place. Whether or not he pulled the trigger, their deaths were the result of his decisions and actions.

“You look like you need a drink,” Dunk said. “Somebody get him something.”

“I’m fine.”

His grin returned. “Like I said, we’ve all got our demons. You can either hide from them or embrace them. Either way, though, they’re right there, one step behind, maybe, but always on our heels.”

“Cut the shit, Dunk. If you know where she is, tell me. If not, I’m leaving.”

Dunk placed both hands on top of his father’s gun and folded his fingers. “We’re going to try a little experiment first.”

Dunk popped out the .38’s cylinder with his thumb, then turned the gun to the side. The bullets spilled out onto the table. He replaced one, gave the cylinder a spin, and locked it back in place.

“You can’t be serious.”

Dunk’s grin narrowed. “You want that drink now?”

Truck was smiling, Reid was not. The other guys were unreadable, stone statues.

Dunk set the gun back down in the center of the table. “He who cannot die, my hero.”

I glared at him. I wouldn’t look down at the gun. “Not a chance.”

“Crocket taught me many things before he died, but you know what my first lesson was? The very first thing he told me? Everything is a commodity. Booze, drugs, cigarettes, girls, gambling. If somebody wants something, you can attach a price tag to it. That price may vary by consumer, but everyone will pay. He also told me information can be one of the most lucrative commodities because it can be gotten for very little and offered at top dollar, to the right buyer, of course. Unlike some of the other items I mentioned—booze, drugs, cigarettes, girls—the core of Crocket’s original