Bad Radio by Michael Langlois Read Free Book Online Page B

Patty started a vehicle.
    “Henry has one of those pieces of metal, doesn’t he?”
    “He might, if he kept it all these years.”
    “He has one of those goddamn pieces of metal, and he knows what’s going on just like you do. The both of you know all about these bait things or whatever, and you know why my grandfather was killed, don’t you? And you’re just going to sit there like an asshole and not tell me, is that it? So long, Anne! Thanks a lot for the ride!”
    “Anne—”
    “Hey, fuck you, okay? I’m not going to get a pat on the head and then drive home to be by myself in my apartment worried about smelling some smell that isn’t there, or if crazy men are going to kick my door down and stab me to death! I’m scared and I’m not …” She pressed her face into her hands. “I’m not going to be sent away to just hide in my apartment and not know what’s going on.”
    I guess I’m kind of thick sometimes. It had honestly not occurred to me that she was involved with this beyond the death of her grandfather. What was happening, and what had to be done felt private, part of a time and place that should have been long forgotten, just like those of us that had been there.
    The idea that she was part of it now didn’t sit well with me. Call it an offended sense that she was intruding on something personal, or even shame if you want, but I just wanted to get out of the car without another word. Part of it, too, was that she seemed so young and untouched by the world, that the last thing I wanted to do was destroy that innocence.
    I looked at her, sitting defiant and scared with her hands clenched together in her lap, and I realized that she didn’t want to be involved any more than I wanted her to be. I could see in her face that this was really about getting away from it. She needed to know that it was over, and not lingering over her forever, always waiting for something unknown to jump out around the next corner.
    How did I tell her that she was better off only knowing about the bags without exposing her to the fact that there was more to fear out there?
    “I’m coming with you to see Henry. Besides, you don’t even have a car, your truck is trashed.”
    “I can rent a car.”
    “I’m coming with you. If you’re going to go after those fuckers, then I want to be there. They killed my grandfather. I deserve to be there.”
    “You can’t, you have to go to Patrick’s funeral.”
    “The rest of my family can go and stand around a hole in the ground mourning an empty shell. I’m going to pay my respects by finishing what my grandfather started. I’m going to help you find what you’re looking for, just like he would have. I’m the only one left who can.”
    That’s when I did a really shitty thing. I’m not a particularly nice man at the best of times, but this was pretty low, even for me. I think I justified it at the time by thinking that I’d send her home soon, but I may not have even bothered with that.
    See, she was completely right. Without Anne, I didn’t have a tracker. I had to use her if I was going to have any chance of finding what I was looking for. I told myself that I could protect her, but I had been down this road before, and I knew that wasn’t true. Shadroe was proof of that. But I gave in anyway and gave her the lecture that she expected, because I knew that would seal the deal.
    “Fine. But when I tell you to go, then you’re going to get in this car and drive away. No arguments, no complaining. When I decide that it’s too dangerous for you, that’s it. You don’t have any idea how bad this will get.” She opened her mouth to speak. “No, you really don’t have any idea. I’m only going to take a yes or a no.”
    “Yes.”
    As if any other answer was possible for her now. I got out of the car feeling dirty. She was right. I
am
an asshole.

8

    M otels like the Sweet Pastures don’t generally see much traffic in the early-morning hours. The lobby was