As I walked down my block, the sound of tires turning onto my street startled me. I half turned and saw it: that same black van coming slowly toward me. My heart started to race and sweat climbed onto my body. I knew it was the same one. I was absolutely positive. I definitely wasn’t making it up: the van was following me. I stopped and bent over, pretending to tie my shoe, and watched as the van slowly crawled down my street, going right by me. I watched as it made a left at the next street, disappearing around the corner.
My heart was pounding as I quickly walked to the end of the block, crossed the street, and jogged over to my stoop. I climbed up the stairs and turned around, my back to the door, and watched down the street. I didn’t have to wait long. About two minutes later, the black van turned the corner and started slowly driving down my street.
I was freaking out. That van was definitely driving around my neighborhood, and I was beyond sure that I had seen it sitting around, parked near my apartment, at least a few times over the last few days. It appeared right around when I saw those guys dumping those weird packages in the river. Could they be the ones driving the van? I was suddenly terrified as I remembered the guy running after me.
I ran upstairs, unlocked my front door as fast as I could, and slammed it shut behind me, banging the deadbolt shut. Petey looked up quizzically and barked twice. I shushed him as I ran into my kitchen and looked out the window. I nervously glanced up and down the street, waiting for it. Two minutes passed, three minutes passed, and nothing. I stood there for five minutes but didn’t see anything.
Maybe it was a coincidence. All those black vans did look alike. Maybe it was just some guy who was lost. Or maybe it was just a neighbor I had never met. I really needed to get myself together.
As I was about to give up, my hands releasing the windowsill and my mind already beginning to think about the rest of my night, I saw it.
The van, the same fucking van, slowly drove down my street. It stopped a few houses away from my apartment and stayed there, idling in the middle of the one-way street. Nobody got in or out. It just sat there as I watched it for what felt like an hour.
Finally, terror pulsing through my body in waves, I pulled out my phone and dialed 9-1-1.
Chapter Nine: Liam
I groaned, rolling over on the stinking cold couch I had pressed up against the wall of my office. The whisky hangover pulsed through my skull as I sat up, looking around the room. It spun briefly, and I pressed my hand against my forehead, annoyed that I had let myself get so drunk and had slept so terribly. My whole body was aching from squeezing myself onto the tiny cushions.
I needed to keep myself together; I couldn’t try to drown my problems. It never helped, and never would help. I had seen too many men destroy themselves with drink because they couldn’t face their demons.
Although, in my defense, most of them didn’t have demons like Colm Brennan.
Snippets of memory from the night before came back to me. Sitting on my computer, drinking way too many glasses of whisky, and the plan. The stupid fucking plan, the plan that will never, ever work. I had filled almost an entire notebook with ideas and thoughts before finally coming up with it. Plus the stack of papers I sifted through to find the data I needed. Last night, the plan definitely seemed a lot more possible, and I remember lying down on my couch with a smile on my face. In the morning, though, that plan didn’t look so great anymore, not without my whisky-tinted glasses.
The stupid plan, the insane plan, that’s also my only option.
I got up, a little shaky, and walked out my door. I pushed the door to the kitchen open and walk inside.
“Hey, boss,” Luis said, looking at me.
“Eggs and bacon and avocado. Please. I feel like shit.”
“You look like shit,” Luis said, moving away from his prep work and starting on my breakfast. “Did you sleep here last night?”
“I wouldn’t say I slept, but I did pass out at some point.”
He laughed, but I could tell he was worried. Luis was pretty intuitive about these things. I was willing to bet he could tell something was up, and that meant any trouble was potentially dangerous for him. He had worked for me from the start, about a few years ago, and we knew each other pretty well. I went to his wedding, and if I ever got married, he would come to mine. Although I couldn’t imagine getting married, let alone being alive for more than a few weeks.
“Anything you need help with, boss?”
“No, it’s all good, Luis. I’ll be at the bar.”
I pushed back out and moved down the corridor and into the main room. It was empty, which I was thankful for, and I went behind the bar to make some coffee. I really didn’t feel like dealing with Colin, especially hungover, and especially when he’d pester me about what was happening with Colm. I cracked my neck, letting the drip machine slowly brew, and looked at myself in the mirror.