and just sat there for a moment, bathed by the alternating red-and-green flicker of the store’s Christmas lights, taking stock of the situation.
They were here already. Waiting for him. Had to be.
How?
He quickly segued back to Bellinger’s abduction. They must have been watching Bellinger. Maybe even listening to his calls. And if they were, they knew about his call to Matt. And if this was about Danny, then they knew all about Matt already.
And Matt had obviously become a problem for them.
Wonderful.
He gave his immediate surroundings a quick scan but didn’t notice anything that jarred. They had to be waiting for him near his garage. He put himself in their place and could almost picture the perfect spot where they’d have parked, out of sight, ready to ambush him on his return. Bastards. How could they react so quickly? It had only been, what, not even an hour since he’d leapt out of their van?
They weren’t short of resources.
Which wasn’t helping on the worrisome front.
He switched the engine off, pulled up his coat collar, and climbed out of the car, his eyes stealthily alert for any movement. He took a few quick steps over to the store and huddled under its awning, using the pause to give the area another quick once-over.
Nothing.
Just the single set of tracks headed down the alleyway to the side of the 7-Eleven, disappearing into the darkness, taunting him.
He stepped inside, triggering a two-toned electronic chime that brought him to the attention of Sanjay, the store’s congenial owner, who was busy restocking the hot dog grill.
Sanjay smiled, “Hey, Matt,” then noted the dusting of snow on Matt’s head with a bemused expression and said, “It’s really coming down, isn’t it?” In mid-sentence, his forehead crinkled with confusion as he registered Matt’s battered condition.
Matt just nodded absently, his mind still processing the situation while he made sure there was no one else around. “Sure is,” he finally replied after the distracted beat, then his face darkened and he said, “Sanjay, I need to go out the back way.”
Sanjay stared at him for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “Whatever you need, Matt.” They’d known each other ever since Matt had taken over the lease on the garage down the road. Matt had been a good customer and a reliable neighbor, and by now, Sanjay knew him well enough to know that Matt wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.
He led him to the back of the store and unlocked the door.
Matt paused at the doorway. “Don’t lock it just yet, will you? I won’t be long.”
Sanjay nodded hesitatingly. “Okay.” He glanced away, then turned back and added, “You sure you’re okay?”
“Not really,” Matt shrugged, then slipped out the door.
There were no cars around. He stayed low and close to the wall of the back lot and headed away from the main road, making his way past Sanjay’s car and the Dumpsters. Any light from the store quickly petered out, and he was soon in total darkness with only a diffused moon glow to guide him. He ducked into a patch of trees and over to a low, single-story brick structure that housed a small law firm. As expected, all of its lights were out, and no cars were around. With his left leg and hip blazing with pain with every step, he scuttled along the back wall of the building quietly until it ran out.
He bent down and chanced a peek around the corner. He’d read it right. A dark Chrysler 300C was parked in one of the law firm’s spots, huddled behind the far side of the building, about twenty yards from the entrance to his shop. He could just about make out the silhouettes of two figures inside.
They were waiting for him. Either that, or they were about eight hours early for their appointment with their lawyer, and no one was that enthusiastic about meeting a lawyer.
Matt inched back into cover, his mind racing through his options. His first instinct was to charge in, beat them to a pulp, and pound the truth out of them. A few years back, he might have done just that, despite the odds. But right now, the odds weren’t good, and much as he was desperate to take them on, he grudgingly forced himself to accept that it would be the wrong move. He was hurting all over, and his left leg was barely holding him up. He wouldn’t stand a chance, and he knew it.