Unwritten Laws 01(307)

“In a word? Family. My father’s safety means more to me than some black guys who died thirty years ago. Nothing’s going to bring those men back. But this deal can keep my father alive.”

I almost believed this when I said it, to the point that it worries me. How far would I go to protect my father?

Royal considers my words, then chuckles with recognition. “Ain’t it something? When it comes down to family, a man’s basically got no choices. Everything else goes by the board. Blood trumps all.”

“We’re agreed, then?”

He cocks his head to one side, and again I see the raptor in him. “How do I know that once I give you what you want, your girlfriend won’t throw me to the dogs?”

“All I can give you is my word. But Caitlin loves my father, too. Even more than her career, and that’s saying something. She knows I’m here, and why I came. I can’t promise you that the FBI won’t eventually pick up on something and come after you, but you and Forrest ought to be able to blame those old murders on the older Double Eagles. Maybe even dead ones. Hell, blame Norris and Pooky Wilson on Frank Knox.”

After a long last look, Royal holds out his hand to shake, but I can’t bring myself to go that far. “I’ll give you my cell number,” I tell him.

The old man gives me a haughty look and withdraws his arm. “Don’t worry about it. I can find you anytime I need you.”

“I hope so. The clock’s ticking.”

As I turn to make my exit, the door flies open and slams against the wall. Randall Regan fills the doorway, a large purple bruise covering his throat. He looks like he rear-ended someone and slammed into the steering wheel.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demands, starting toward me.

For the first time I remember the straight razor in my back pocket.

“Easy, Randall!” Brody barks, raising his hand to stop the charge. “Mayor, I believe you know Randall Regan, my son-in-law.”

“We’ve met.”

“Screw this,” Regan hisses. “I’m done playing with this guy, Brody.”

Regan takes another step toward me and reaches for my throat, but just then a soft yet commanding voice says, “Hold it, ace. Listen up a sec.”

Regan’s hand stops within inches of my throat, and he turns his head enough to locate the speaker. “Who the fuck are you?” he asks Kirk.

“Just an interested bystander.” Kirk faces Regan from an angle, as though prepared to throw him across the room if necessary. “But I’m not going to let you hurt anybody. Strictly for informational purposes, if you touch the mayor, you’re going to wake up in the ICU next to your wife.”

Regan’s eyes rake up and down Kirk Boisseau’s frame, estimating his speed and power.

“Randall?” Brody says, “I appreciate you coming to check on me, but you ought to get back with Katy. The mayor and I have come to an understanding.”

Regan straightens his jacket, his jaw working as he tries to ratchet down his fury. He’s had a hell of a day, and the idea of beating me senseless must be tempting. But Kirk looks a little too much like a spoiler to risk that. Regan holds his ground for a few face-saving seconds, his left cheek twitching, but at last he turns and stalks out, leaving the door wide open.

Brody is looking intently at Kirk. “I know you,” he says at length. “You’re Marguerite Boisseau’s boy.”

“That’s right.”

Royal laughs softly. “You owe me for a bulldozer, don’t you?”

Kirk rolls his eyes with resignation.

“Don’t worry about it, son. Seeing that little standoff was worth the balance of your loan. Now, you boys get out of here and let me tend to my daughter.” He points his forefinger at my chest. “I’ll call you later. Don’t let your girlfriend do anything stupid before you hear from me. I’m not the forgiving type.”



OUTSIDE THE HOSPITAL, KIRK and I stop between our vehicles, each digging for our keys. I’m glad I decided not to show Pithy Nolan’s straight razor to Brody after all. The last thing that old woman needs is that bastard angry at her.

“I feel like I need a shower after that,” Kirk says. “I knew a son of a bitch like Royal in the corps. A colonel. He covered up a blatant rape by a buddy of his. Buried the whole mess, and the girl was really messed up, too. But they never even thought twice about it.”

“The world’s full of bastards like him,” I mutter, just wanting to get away from this place. “Hopefully they’re dying off. Can you follow me to the newspaper office?”

“No problem.”