“Don’t let up yet.”
Milo closed one eye as the impact approached.
“Now, brake!” Again Calvin pulled up on the handbrake as Milo stomped on the pedal. The Mercedes still crashed into the front end of the cop car as it backed into the pole, but the damage was minimal.
Calvin swung open his door and fired two shots at the left front tire only a few feet away from him. The cops inside ducked. The tire popped and hissed.
“Now get us out of here,” he said as he slammed the door.
Milo reversed, spun the wheel and moved into drive as he raced away from the supermarket towards home.
A mile away, Calvin spotted another car parked along the curb on a slow residential street. They parked the Mercedes, got out and Tucker bent over a bush in the front yard and threw up.
While Tucker puked, Calvin broke into the Buick. Not his first choice but at least it was American.
32
Three generations of McGraws entered the house of the fourth, missing, generation. They stumbled inside a little like soldiers returning from the front line and a little like frat boys after an all-nighter.
“How long do you think we have?” Tucker asked.
Calvin sucked in a deep breath, thinking it over. “I think we’re okay on time. They don’t seem to have guessed we’re staying here. Your house is already burned down. Plus, I think we left a hell of a mess to clean up back there. I think Hugh isn’t going to be making any decisions anytime soon. If he even makes it, that is.”
Tucker eyed the couch, but wouldn’t let himself sit. Too much to do.
“Who wants some breakfast?”
“Me,” Milo said. He helped his dad make scrambled eggs and bacon. The men ate in near silence, each one planning their next move. Picking up and leaving town forever wasn’t as simple as Tucker had thought it would be.
He made some phone calls to Annabelle and broke the news that he would be shutting down the office. He asked her to box up his documents and he would send for them at a later date. She sounded highly suspicious of everything he said, but she let him go without any questions. Also without a formal goodbye since she thought there was no way he could actually be leaving for good.
Calvin placed a single suitcase by the door. He took the keys to The Bandit down from the hook.
“It’ll be good to feel the old girl grab my ass cheeks again.”
Tucker smiled. The list of unfinished business grew every time he thought about it. He stopped himself before he spiraled into doubt. He thought very hard and nearly everything fell away from the list.
Business? Check. House? Not a problem. He’d have a new address to send the insurance check soon. Car? He’d just inherited Webb’s.
His son was with him. His dad’s killer had been found, and dealt with.
One nagging thing stuck with him. He found Milo in the kitchen making peanut butter sandwiches for the road. He spoke to him quietly, so Calvin wouldn’t hear.
“Did your Mom leave you a phone number?”
“A cell phone, Dad. She asked me not to even tell you about it.”
Tucker nodded. “But, she said she’d be in touch?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s good. You shouldn’t lose her forever. And, Milo, don’t blame her. She did what she thought was right.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Trust me. I can speak from experience. Now, anyway.”
They all met at the front door.
“So we’re taking three cars?” Milo asked.
“I’m in the Bandit,” Calvin said. “Tuck, what are you driving?”
“I guess I’ll take the Barracuda and Milo can take the GSX.”
“Sweet.”
“And you better appreciate it, boy. I don’t want you fantasizing about a damn European car or something.”
Tucker turned and took in the living room of his childhood home for the last time.
“You know, I have to say, and please don’t give me any crap for this.” Tucker turned back to Calvin and Milo. “I’m feeling like burning all that money wasn’t the smartest move. I’ll get a decent settlement from the house, but it sure would be nice to have the cash right about now when everything is so uncertain.”
Calvin and Milo exchanged a look. They both tried to hide slight smiles. Tucker caught their conspiracy. “What?”
“Well, Tuck, we didn’t exactly burn all the money.”
Tucker stared them down like a scolding parent.
“We kinda kept some of it.”
“How much?” Tucker directed the question at Milo, knowing he would be more likely to get a straight answer.
Calvin bent down and thumbed open the latch on his suitcase. “Two million,” he said and let the case drop open exposing one half packed with socks and boxer shorts and the other half filled with tidy rows of cash.
“How did you…?”
“We took a few stacks out of each box. That way there were still eleven boxes left and Hugh, and you, wouldn’t know there was any missing.”
Tucker looked at Milo, accusing. “And you knew about this?”
“Kinda.”
Tucker shook his head, a smile growing on his face. “Jesus Christ. Granddad, how many times in all this did you save me from myself?”
“Hey now, you saved my ass plenty. You really proved you were a McGraw after all.” Calvin put a hand on Milo’s shoulder. “And this one saved all our asses. The boy’s got a gift. We need to nurture it.”
“Nurture it right into college you mean. You can consider a big chunk of that money already spent.”
“You’re gonna let all that natural talent go to waste?”
“He can drive you to the store for beer.”
“Then it’s not a complete waste.”
The men shared a laugh. Tucker lifted the handle on his suitcase first. Calvin shut his and hefted the heavy case. Milo held his modest bag.
“To Omaha?” Tucker asked.
“For now,” Calvin answered.
Tucker pulled on the door and opened it to find a figure on the stoop. He jumped a little at the man standing before him.
Ambrose.
Six feet behind him on the lawn were two of his cousins, one with a hand wrapped in thick bandages. They took a slight step back when the door opened.
“You. What the hell do you want?”
Calvin dropped his suitcase and filled the doorframe next to Tucker. “We don’t have your car anymore, man. You need to get the fuck out of here.”
Ambrose held up his open palms in surrender. “I’m not here about the car. I don’t want any trouble.”
“Then what the fuck are you here for?”
Tucker braced for a gunshot or the click of a switchblade being pulled.
“I want to hire you.”
Tucker and Calvin blinked. “What?”
“I have some people who owe me money. When you came to collect from me I tried to collect from them, but they wouldn’t give me what they owed me. I thought, perhaps, you could get it for me.”
Tucker looked over Ambrose’s shoulder to the two figures on the lawn. “What about your cousins there?”
“I’ve come to the opinion that you are more…persuasive than they are.”
Tucker turned to Calvin. They thought for a moment. Calvin turned back to Ambrose. “Hang on a minute.”
He closed the door. The two men stood in the entryway with Milo looking on, again in the role of wondering what was going to happen.
“What did you say?” Calvin asked. “One more job?”
“But, we’re not collectors or whatever. I told you before, I’m not a criminal.”
Calvin placed his hand on Tucker’s shoulder, dropped his eyes and spoke to him slow and low. “Tuck, you got to can it with that shit. You are what you are and what you are is a McGraw. No, we ain’t criminals.” He paused, waiting for Tucker to fill the gap.
“We’re outlaws.” Tucker turned to Milo. “Unpack. We’re staying
a while longer.”
Calvin smiled, feeling younger than he had in decades.
Back to TOC
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A huge thank you to Eric Campbell and Lance Wright from Down & Out Books who saved this book. I am in your debt but you have to promise not to make me work it off like the McGraws.
So many people have said kind things about this book and the McGraws. Thanks to Gar Anthony Haywood, Stuart MacBride, Steph Post, Samuel W. Gailey, Grant Jerkins, Sean Doolittle, Owen Laukkanen, Paul Bishop, and Chris Rhatigan.
Thank you to 280 Steps who originally published this book.
She might never see this but to Marie—thank you for all the times you let me run off with my crazy writer pals and chase down my dreams. Without you steering the ship I’d surely run aground.
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Eric Beetner has been called “Noir’s James Brown—the hardest working man in crime fiction.” (Crime Fiction Lover) and “The 21st Century’s answer to Jim Thompson.” (LitReactor). He is the author of nearly two dozen novels and novellas including Rumrunners, Leadfoot, The Devil Doesn’t Want Me, The Year I Died Seven Times, Dig Two Graves and Criminal Economics as well as over a hundred short stories. In all his free time he manages to co-host the podcast Writer Types (with author SW Lauden) and host the Noir at the Bar reading series in Los Angeles where he is a TV editor by trade, contributing to the erosion of reading in America.
Eric has designed over one hundred book covers for crime and mystery novels including the one in your hand.
Learn more at EricBeetner.com; on Twitter @ericbeetner.
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OTHER BOOKS BY ERIC BEETNER
McGraw Crime Series
Rumrunners
Leadfoot
Lars and Shane Series
The Devil Doesn’t Want Me (*)
The Devil Comes to Call (*)
The Devil at Your Door (*)
Stand Alones
The Year I Died Seven Times
Criminal Economics
Dig Two Graves
White Hot Pistol
Stripper Pole at the End of the World
A Bouquet of Bullets (stories)
The Fightcard Series
Fightcard: Split Decision
Fightcard: A Mouth Full of Blood
The List Series (with Frank Zafiro)
The Backlist
The Short List
The Getaway List (*)
With JB Kohl
Over Their Heads
Borrowed Time
One Too Many Blows to the Head
(*) Coming Soon from Down & Out Books
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OTHER TITLES FROM DOWN & OUT BOOKS
AND ITS IMPRINTS
See DownAndOutBooks.com for a complete list
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Catching Water in a Net
Clutching at Straws
Counting to Infinity
Gravesend
Chasing Charlie Chan
Circling the Runway
Brooklyn Justice
Coney Island Avenue
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Hard Bite
Bite Harder
By Jonathan Ashley
South of Cincinnati
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2,000 Miles to Open Road
Road Gig: A Novella
Exit Blood
Death is Not Forever
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The Innocents
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Lost
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Unloaded
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Falling
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Murder at the Beach: Bouchercon Anthology 2014
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