Read Online Tick Tock by James Patterson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Patterson
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Was that a little crazy? It was. But then again, so was I by that point.
Their house was on the Rockaway Inlet side of the Point about ten blocks away. I drove straight there.
They really did have a pit bull chained in their front yard. It went mad as I stepped out of my car and made my way up the rickety steps.
It wasn’t madder than me, though. I actually smiled at it. After today and everything that I had seen, I was in a man-bites-dog sort of mood.
I pounded on the door.
“Oh, this better be good,” said the bald guy who answered it.
The guy was big. He was also shirtless and in damn good shape, I could see: huge bowling-ball shoulders, six-pack abs, prison-yard pumped. There was another man, just as big and mean-looking and covered in tattoos, standing behind him.
I should have been cautious then. I knew a violent criminal mobster asshole when I saw one. But I guess I was through giving a shit for the day.
“You Flaherty?” I said.
“Yeah. Who the fuck are you?”
“My name’s Bennett. You have a kid?”
“I got five of ’em. At least. Which one we talkin’ about here?”
“Fat, freckles, about fourteen. Did I say
fat?
”
“You talking about my Seany? What’s up?”
“Yeah, well, your Seany split my eleven-year-old’s chin open today is what’s up,” I said, staring into Flaherty’s soulless doll’s eyes. “He had to go to the hospital.”
“That can’t be right,” the man said, stone-faced. He smiled coldly. “We went fishing today. All day. It was sweet. Got some blues. Hey, Billy, remember when Sean caught that blowfish today?”
“Oh, yeah,” the thug behind him said with a guffaw. “Blowfish. That was the puffy balloon thing, right? That shit was funny.”
“See. Guess you made a mistake,” Flaherty senior said. “Wait a second. Bennett. I know you. You got all those rainbow-coalition crumb crunchers, right? You’re a cop, too. Look, Billy. It’s the Octo-cop in the flesh.”
“I do have a gun,” I said with a grin. “You want me to show it to you?”
I really did feel like showing it to him. In fact, I actually felt like giving him a taste of my Glock.
“I know what they look like, but thanks, anyway,” Flaherty said, cold as ice. “If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to get back to the ballgame. Mets might even win one for a change. Have a nice night, Officer.”
That’s when he slammed the door in my face. I felt like kicking it in. The pit was in a frenzy. So was I. But even in my stress-induced hysteria, I knew that wasn’t a good idea. I chose to retreat.
An empty Miller High Life can landed beside me as I was coming down the steps.
Young Flaherty himself waved to me from the rattletrap’s second-story window.
“Gee, Officer, I apologize. Must have slipped out of my hand.”
Even over the dog’s apoplexy, I heard raucous laughter from inside.
Death all day and ridicule for dessert. What a day. I crushed the can and hit the stairs before I could take my gun out.
Chapter 25
RETURNING TO THE HOUSE with a full head of steam, I decided I needed some alone time. Wanting to make it both relaxing and constructive, I opted for doing what any angry, overworked cop in my situation would do. Inside the garage, I tossed down some old newspaper on a workbench and began field-stripping my Glock 21.
For half an hour, I went to town, cleaning the barrel and slide until everything was ship shape and shining like a brand-new penny. I’m not proud to admit that as I went through the motions meticulously, some un-Christian thoughts went through my mind concerning certain Breezy Point residents. As I reloaded the semiauto’s magazine and slapped it home with a well-oiled snick, I made a mental note to set up a confession the next time I saw Seamus.
I discovered a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label on a shelf behind a bolt-filled coffee can as I was cleaning up. One of my cousins must have left it there after his ownClark W. Griswold family vacation
Their house was on the Rockaway Inlet side of the Point about ten blocks away. I drove straight there.
They really did have a pit bull chained in their front yard. It went mad as I stepped out of my car and made my way up the rickety steps.
It wasn’t madder than me, though. I actually smiled at it. After today and everything that I had seen, I was in a man-bites-dog sort of mood.
I pounded on the door.
“Oh, this better be good,” said the bald guy who answered it.
The guy was big. He was also shirtless and in damn good shape, I could see: huge bowling-ball shoulders, six-pack abs, prison-yard pumped. There was another man, just as big and mean-looking and covered in tattoos, standing behind him.
I should have been cautious then. I knew a violent criminal mobster asshole when I saw one. But I guess I was through giving a shit for the day.
“You Flaherty?” I said.
“Yeah. Who the fuck are you?”
“My name’s Bennett. You have a kid?”
“I got five of ’em. At least. Which one we talkin’ about here?”
“Fat, freckles, about fourteen. Did I say
fat?
”
“You talking about my Seany? What’s up?”
“Yeah, well, your Seany split my eleven-year-old’s chin open today is what’s up,” I said, staring into Flaherty’s soulless doll’s eyes. “He had to go to the hospital.”
“That can’t be right,” the man said, stone-faced. He smiled coldly. “We went fishing today. All day. It was sweet. Got some blues. Hey, Billy, remember when Sean caught that blowfish today?”
“Oh, yeah,” the thug behind him said with a guffaw. “Blowfish. That was the puffy balloon thing, right? That shit was funny.”
“See. Guess you made a mistake,” Flaherty senior said. “Wait a second. Bennett. I know you. You got all those rainbow-coalition crumb crunchers, right? You’re a cop, too. Look, Billy. It’s the Octo-cop in the flesh.”
“I do have a gun,” I said with a grin. “You want me to show it to you?”
I really did feel like showing it to him. In fact, I actually felt like giving him a taste of my Glock.
“I know what they look like, but thanks, anyway,” Flaherty said, cold as ice. “If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to get back to the ballgame. Mets might even win one for a change. Have a nice night, Officer.”
That’s when he slammed the door in my face. I felt like kicking it in. The pit was in a frenzy. So was I. But even in my stress-induced hysteria, I knew that wasn’t a good idea. I chose to retreat.
An empty Miller High Life can landed beside me as I was coming down the steps.
Young Flaherty himself waved to me from the rattletrap’s second-story window.
“Gee, Officer, I apologize. Must have slipped out of my hand.”
Even over the dog’s apoplexy, I heard raucous laughter from inside.
Death all day and ridicule for dessert. What a day. I crushed the can and hit the stairs before I could take my gun out.
Chapter 25
RETURNING TO THE HOUSE with a full head of steam, I decided I needed some alone time. Wanting to make it both relaxing and constructive, I opted for doing what any angry, overworked cop in my situation would do. Inside the garage, I tossed down some old newspaper on a workbench and began field-stripping my Glock 21.
For half an hour, I went to town, cleaning the barrel and slide until everything was ship shape and shining like a brand-new penny. I’m not proud to admit that as I went through the motions meticulously, some un-Christian thoughts went through my mind concerning certain Breezy Point residents. As I reloaded the semiauto’s magazine and slapped it home with a well-oiled snick, I made a mental note to set up a confession the next time I saw Seamus.
I discovered a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label on a shelf behind a bolt-filled coffee can as I was cleaning up. One of my cousins must have left it there after his ownClark W. Griswold family vacation
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