Loose Ends by D. D. Vandyke Read Free Book Online Page A

backhanded pass as a compliment. If he’d been off the juice I might have even given him a shot. Like I said, I don’t mind a bit of age on a man. Some things get better with time: a fine whiskey, a good cigar, a classic car. But my own addictions writhed beneath the surface too close to want to deal with anyone else’s.
    Demons, I’d found, are best faced alone. If you get help beating them, you never know if it was really you that won. Eventually, when you’re all by yourself, they’ll jump you from the shadows. On that day you’d better be ready to throw down and win.
    Eventually Bill spoke in answer to my earlier question. “After Sandy died, I crawled even farther into the bottle…but you already figured that.”
    I nodded.
    “They put me on a desk for a while. Mandatory counseling, weekly shrink sessions. It didn’t take. They eased me off the force. Retired me. I understood. They had to do it. I was useless. By that time it was too late, though. My wife had left me. Couldn’t blame her. She was ten years younger…pretty. Full of life. Deserved a second chance.” His words slurred slightly, and the next time he lifted the flask I reached over to stop its motion toward his lips.
    “Give it a break, Bill.” He wiggled the flask under my hand but I clamped down firmly and held his eyes. “You’ve had enough for now, Lieutenant. I need you upright and operating.”
    Slowly his hand relaxed under mine, his eyes clearing as he capped the container and slid it into a breast pocket. “Okay. I’m good.”
    Another hour of silence passed, broken only by the occasional exchange of remarks, before Bill said, “I’m gonna take a walk. Drain the monster.”
    “Right.” That was one concrete advantage men had over women – the ability to pee standing up. Must be nice. Me, between rallying, stakeouts and marathon poker sessions I’d developed the bladder of a camel so I just held it.
    “Give me the flask first.”
    “I’m not that far gone.”
    “Flask,” I said in a voice of stone.
    Bill raised an eyebrow, but took out the container and handed it to me before he exited and walked around the corner, probably heading for a small park half a block back. As long as he picked a good shadowed tree he’d be all right. I thought about pouring his liquor onto the street but that seemed rude, an insult tantamount to throwing poker chips in the trash.
    Just then the first large vehicle in a while rounded the opposite corner, its lights illuminating the street. I slouched down as low as I could while keeping an eye on it. We’d figured they’d bring some kind of truck for the cargo capacity. With an inside job and no need for smash-and-grab hurry, the more they carried away, the bigger their take.
    The vehicle turned out to be a white heavy-duty panel van, an extended model perfect for a heist like this. It didn’t turn in to the warehouse drive, though. Rather, it cruised slowly down the block. I ducked, squeezing my small frame sideways under the steering wheel and lowered my head to cover the lighter skin of my face, my black hair forming a concealing canopy.
    I realized they were checking the parked cars as a spotlight washed over Molly. Lucky Bill had left the vehicle. He’d never have been able to hide from a good once-over sitting inside. As long as the perps didn’t get out to look closer I should be all right.
    The van passed by, engine revs increasing as it turned the corner and accelerated away. I rose carefully and waited until it showed up again at the other end of the street, having circled the block. Hopefully Bill had stayed well out of sight and wouldn’t blow the stakeout.
    This time the van turned crisply into the warehouse drive, and then a hand reached out the driver’s window to buzz at the gate. The metal barrier immediately rolled out of the way, Lattimer’s doing for sure. The vehicle surged in, turning off its lights and parking quickly by the steel personnel door to the windowless