Sophie Rosatti cleaned up the mess that Alyssa had left in her room.  She had a bit of a tantrum when she woke to find herself in unfamiliar quarters.  Sophie felt bad for her as she thought about all the young girl had gone through that day, poor thing.  Initially, she wanted to wake the little brat up, slap her around, and make her clean up her own mess.  As she attempted to put herself in Alyssa’s situation, her animosity toward the young girl lessened.  The brat had made quite a mess though, quite a mess indeed.

Sophie was scrubbing soda out of the carpet when Alyssa woke.  The heavy odor of bleach in the air disturbed her slumber.  The room was very poorly ventilated.  There were no windows and no fans or vents in the main room.  The bathroom had a small vent fan in the shower.  Its low hum was the only disruption to the silence, aside from Sophie’s labored breathing as she scrubbed.  Unfortunately, the small fan in the bathroom did more to disrupt the silence than clear the air.  Alyssa really could have used more sleep.  She woke in quite a mood.

Alyssa looked over at Sophie, “Where the hell am I?  What is this place?”  She was tired, disoriented, and well beyond scared.  All of the shock and confusion filling her mind left her not caring what happened.  Right at that moment, she didn’t even care if she died.

Sophie didn’t look up from her scrubbing, “You are safe and you will stay that way as long as you are in my care.”  Then she added, “I would sincerely appreciate if you wouldn’t take advantage of my hospitality by destroying my home anymore.  I have much better things to do with my time than clean up after your tantrums.”

Alyssa didn’t respond at first.  She just stared at the blank screen of the television.  She may as well have been watching the events of the prior day.  They played back again and again in her head.  It was all so much like a bad dream.  When would she wake up for good?  Maybe she wouldn’t.  Maybe she was stuck in a nightmare that would never end.

When Alyssa finally spoke again, her tone was pointed.  “Why am I here?  What did we do to deserve this?  What do you people want from us?”  Then it occurred to her that she had no idea where the other member of we was.  “Where’s my brother?”

Sophie stopped scrubbing, took a deep breath to collect her thoughts, and spoke calmly, almost sweetly.  “The first question, ‘Why are you here?’ is very simple.  You’re bait.  You didn’t do anything to deserve this.  How much do you know about your mother?”

Alyssa looked confused, “What do you mean?”

“What do you know about what she does for a living?  I should say what she did for a living.”  Sophie’s smile was sweet and her tone polite.

Alyssa quickly became irritated with the conversation, “Look lady…”

“Sophie,” she interrupted.  “Call me Sophie, sweetheart.”

Alyssa clenched her teeth and continued, “Fine.  Sophie.  I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.  Why don’t you just answer my questions?  Is this some kind of game?  What did my mom do to you people that was so terrible?”

The sweet smile never left Sophie’s face.  “Your mother’s real name is Stiletto Rose.  She’s a killer, a hit man.  Well, hit woman I suppose.  She was a very lethal and effective assassin.  That is until she messed around with the wrong family, my family.”

Alyssa smirked and shook her head, “You expect me to believe that my mom,” she pointed at her chest, “my mom, killed somebody?  That’s ridiculous.  Seriously, is this some kind of joke?  Am I on some sick reality show here?”  She put her hands up next to her face and tried her best to sound like a television announcer.  “Da, da, dum…It’s ‘Surprise, You’ve Been Kidnapped’.  Don’t miss one action packed minute.”  She continued to shake her head.

“It’s no joke Alyssa.  Your mother spent a year working for my grandfather.  He always said she was the best.  Then she got involved with my brother.  It’s a big no-no for the hired help to mess around with the family.  That’s when…”

The door opened and a well-dressed man with dark, slicked-back hair walked in the room.  He glanced at Alyssa and smiled.  It wasn’t a casual smile though.  There was a weird familiarity to it.  She refused to smile back as she looked him over.  He appeared to be in his fifties, but she was terrible at judging age.  His hair didn’t have any gray in it, but he did have a few wrinkles on his face.  He looked to be pretty athletic though.  She could see his muscles flex under his suit as he crossed his arms over his chest.  His smiled faded into an angry glare as he turned his gaze toward Sophie.

“Sophie,” he raised his voice a bit.  “What have you been talking to our guest about?”

“She had questions.”  Sophie fired back.  “What difference does it make what she knows?”

The gentleman’s expression softened a bit, “Ah, my sweet Sophie, your time would be better spent finding a good man to make a family with and give me some grandchildren rather than giving up family secrets.”

Sophie stood, stormed past him to the door, and then turned back, “I don’t like men, daddy and you won’t let me adopt.  I guess you’re out of luck.”  She slammed the door behind her as she left.

The gentleman humphed at the door.  Then he turned his attention back to Alyssa, “So many questions in your pretty, little head.  Don’t worry about them now.  For now, you should get some sleep.  You’ve had a rough couple of days and you could use some rest.  You’ll get your answers in due time.”

“Whatever,” Alyssa sighed.  “Who the hell are you now?  I figured out that you’re Sophie’s dad.  You must be the big boss man, right?  This is like a soap opera.  What the hell is going on here?”

He laughed, “You are just like your father was.  You’re full of fire and spunk and you need to know everything about everything and everyone.  It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Alyssa.”  Then he extended his hand out to her, “I’m Mario.”

Alyssa looked at his hand and crossed her arms as she squinted at him, “What do you know about my dad?  Is he really dead?”  Her eyes became hot as she thought about what Vinny had said to her.  They were tingling again.  She wasn’t going to cry.  She wasn’t going to give this jerk the satisfaction.

Mario shrugged, “Are we talking about your dad or your step-dad?”

Alyssa slumped and looked confused.  Her voice lost its defiant tone.  “What?”

Mario shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  I’m sorry to say that either way the answer is yes.  We’ll talk more later on.  Get some rest and then I’ll give you some answers.  You have to behave though.  Quit wrecking my house.”  He winked at her as he turned and left the room.

Alyssa tried to respond but he was already gone.  She didn’t have a step-dad.  What the hell was he talking about?  The answer was yes though, either way, whatever that meant.  She let the tears come.  They soaked the couch as she drifted off to sleep.

Matt sat in what he thought looked like a small living room.  It was probably the size of his bedroom but it had a couch, a chair, and an entertainment center.  There were two doors in the room.  One led to a bathroom and he figured that the other must lead to a hallway.  The place was a lot better than the basement that he had been in.  The guys coming in and out of the room were a lot nicer too.  They didn’t tie him up or anything.  They just locked him in this room.  He could watch TV or play video games.  There was a little fridge full of soda with a bunch of snacks piled on top of it.  It was actually pretty cool.  One of the guys came in to check on him pretty often.  Matt didn’t know the dude’s name, but he was pretty cool too.  He told him that he could do whatever he wanted as long as he didn’t scream or try to leave.

Matt paused “Rocky” and got up to go to the bathroom.  When he came back out, the dude was back.  He was crouched in front of the tiny fridge next to a case of Mountain Dew, transporting cans from the box to the fridge.  Then Matt noticed the Taco Bell bag on the table.  He even had room service.  It was like staying at a fancy hotel except for the fact that he couldn’t leave.  This place certainly wasn’t scary, not like that basement.  That Vinny guy was a jerk.  Could he have been telling the truth about shooting his dad?  Matt’s fingers moved to his cheek as he thought about Vinny and that basement.  It still stung a little.

Then the dude looked over and said, “Hey little man.  How are you doing?”

Matt smiled and said, “Okay, I guess.  How are you?”

“Oh, I’m having a busy day,” he began.  “You sure do drink a lot of soda.  You know that crap rots your teeth, right?”

Matt shrugged, “My mom never lets us drink that stuff.”  He paused for a moment and then continued sheepishly, “Am I ever gonna’ see her again?”

The dude walked over to Matt, gently took him by the shoulders, and then knelt down in front of him so they were eye to eye with each other.  “Of course you will.”  He smiled, “Your mom just has some business with my friend.  Once they get that all worked out, I’ll take you home.  Until then, you’ve got to hang out here with me.  It’s not so bad, is it?”

Matt shook his head, “No.  I like it here, but I miss my mom though.”  His eyes watered just a bit.  Not enough to spill over, but enough that dude noticed.

“Hey little man, it’s gonna’ be alright.  Trust me.”  Dude still wore a big smile.  “I’ve got to get back to work.  I brought you some tacos and I’ll come back to check on you again in a couple of hours.  Just take it easy.”

Matt nodded.  Then he cautiously asked, “Is my dad really dead?  That guy that was beating me and Alyssa up, I think the other guy called him Vinny, he said that he shot my dad in the head.  Is that true?  Is my dad really dead?”  A couple of tears made it passed his eyelids as his lower lip began to quiver.

The dude shook his head and rubbed a hand over Matt’s head, “That Vinny Heart was a big asshole.  Pardon my language.”  He paused.  “Look kid, I don’t know anything about your dad, but I can tell you that Vinny Heart is a big, fat liar.  And you can’t trust him.  It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d make something like that up just to see you cry.  Do you want to know what a big jerk he is?”

Matt shrugged.

“Well I’ll tell you.  His real name was Vincent Valentino.  He just called himself Vinny Heart.  He thought that made him sound important, like a gangster or something.  Isn’t that ridiculous?”

Matt nodded.  The tears were still trickling down, but he managed to chuckle a little through them.

“Alright kid,” the dude started, “I really have to get back to work.  I’ll be back to talk to you later though.  Eat your lunch.  You’ll feel better after you eat something.”

Then Matt spoke up again, “What’s your name?  I don’t know what to call you.  In my head I’ve been calling you dude.”

“Dude?” the dude chuckled.  “You’ve been calling me dude?  What kind of name is dude?”  The way he said dude was goofy enough to make Matt laugh, so he kept doing it.  “Hi, my name is…Dude.  That’s ridiculous!  Huh.  Dude.  You’re crazy kid.  I’ll tell you what.  I think that we’re pretty much friends now.  All of my other friends call me Wiggles.  Why don’t you call me that?”

“Wiggles?”  Matt giggled.  “Why do they call you Wiggles?”

“Well this is kind of embarrassing, but I really love to bowl.  And my bowling buddies say that I wiggle my butt when I’m on my approach.  I think they’re full of crap, but that’s what they tell me and that’s what they call me.”

Matt giggled again and then became serious.  “Wiggles, where’s Alyssa?”

Wiggles stood and started walking toward the door.  “She’s in a room just like this one.  She’s doing just fine.  Don’t worry, little man.  You guys will be together soon.”  With that, he left the room.

Matt felt a little better about everything.  He liked Wiggles.  That was a cool name.  It was kind of funny that they call him that because he wiggles his butt when he bowls.  He went over to the couch and turned “Rocky” back on.  Then he ate his tacos.

In the hallway, Wiggles let out a long sigh.  He had two kids of his own and it took everything he had not to break down and cry right along with Matt, poor kid.  He hated this job.  Whacking punks was one thing, but messing with kids just wasn’t cool.  He really liked that Matt kid too.  The kid kind of reminded him of his own son at that age, what a little personality.  A tingling started behind his eyes as he rubbed his forehead.  He wouldn’t let himself cry.  It was a hard fight though.  That Matt really liked him too.  What would the kid think of him if he knew the real reason they called him Wiggles?  What if he knew that they called him Wiggles because he liked to tie his victims up, wrap plastic bags around their heads, and then watch them writhe in agony as they died?  What if the kid knew that he called that little dance of death the wiggles and that’s why everybody called him Wiggles?  What would that kid think of him then?  He shook his head, not really wanting to know the answer to any of those questions.  This job sucked.  No amount of money was worth it.  Killing punks was easy.  Being Matt’s buddy, looking into his eyes and lying to him that everything was going to be okay, those things weren’t so easy.  They weighed on him, made him feel half his size.  On top of all of that, gnawing at the back of his brain was the knowledge that after the thing was over, after Stiletto had been dealt with, he’d have to kill him.  Would he be able to do it when the time came?  He shrugged slightly to himself as he started slowly down the hall, barely noticing his own movement.

Shelia sat in the black, Dodge van, parked in a rest area on Hwy 41.  Minutes were drifting into hours as she felt the time slipping away from her.  It was as if the minutes were tangible and someone was tugging them out of her hand one by one.  She had no leads and Rufus wouldn't help her anymore.  What the hell happened to him?  He had never been afraid of anything.  Her dad wouldn't have had a partner that had even an ounce of fear in them.  “This is a dangerous business baby.  You gotta’ be real choosy about who got watching your back.”  That’s what her dad always said.  That’s why Rufus was his partner, because he wasn't afraid of anything.  He would lay down his life to protect his own.  So what happened to that man?

In the dark quiet of the van, her thoughts drifted to the past.  Rufus used to tell her stories about him and her dad, Jack Rose.  Rufus loved Jack.  He was the closest thing to a brother he ever had.  He would say, “Your daddy done saved my ass just as many times as I saved his.  Lightenin’, that’s what I called him.  That’s how he did his thing.  He’d strike like lightenin’.  Them sucka’s would never see it comin’.  That’s what we was, Thunder and Lightenin’.  I’d be bringing the boom, boom, boom and he be bringing the flash, baby.”

Once Jack had passed away, Rufus told Stiletto all of the stories about her dad.  He died when she was just twelve years old and Rufus promised him that he would finish raising her and take care of her.  Jack didn't want her to know about his life style, but she wouldn't let Rufus get away with not telling her.  She wanted to know it all.  Jack Rose was a mystery to her.  He was like two people.  One was her father and the other was a cold-blooded killer.  He was always distant, like part of him was somewhere else.  She needed to know who that other man was.  Rufus told her.

Jack Rose was a small time hustler that had been living on the streets of Chicago from his twelfth birthday on.  That’s the day he ran away from home.  He would never tell Rufus anything earlier than that.  According to Jack, that was the day his life began.  Nothing before that day mattered.  He was hanging around alleys and keeping himself fed by snatching purses.  One day a man approached him and offered him a place to stay.  The fellow owned a restaurant, a Japanese steak house.  He lived above it.  Jack said the guy was Irish, but he was fascinated with Asia; the food, the cultures, everything.  He was a real secretive guy.  He had a manager for the restaurant named Kyoto who acted as the owner.  It was a real weird situation.  Jack did odd jobs for Miles to earn his keep.  In turn, Miles gave Jack a place to stay, taught him all of the book stuff that he wasn't learning by not being in school, and taught him everything he could ever want to know about self-defense.  Jack knew about five hundred different ways to kill a person with his bare hands.

Though Jack didn't want for anything while in the care of Miles Blaney, he couldn't stay away from the hustling.  He started doing odd jobs for some of the local, small-time muscle.  He kept his nose out of the big stuff, but he ran some drugs and broke a few noses.  Jack kept all of that business away from Miles but Miles probably knew about it.  Miles knew about everything.

When Jack was seventeen years old, he met Tasha.  She blew his mind.  Tasha had blonde hair, deep brown eyes, and a body that could stop a freight train dead in its tracks.  Jack said that her pouty lips were always begging to be kissed and she always smelled like this tropical perfume.  He didn't know the name of it, but it drove him nuts.  The first time he met her, he was dropping off a package for her, heroin.  She came to the door in nothing but a sheer robe and invited him in.  He was hooked from the moment he saw her.  He said that he never knew exactly how old she was, but she must have been around twenty-five.  The age difference didn't bother him any.  In fact, he thought it was kind of cool that an older woman showed an interest in him.  She shot up and then she rocked his world.  It was his first time and he fell hard.  Jack was in love immediately.  It was probably more lust than anything, but he knew it was love.  Tasha fell too.  They couldn't get enough of each other.  Jack eventually moved in with her.

Miles was pretty upset when Jack told him he was moving in with an older woman.  He didn't write him off though.  A man has to go where his heart calls him and he has to make his own mistakes.  He warned him that some of the best lessons are the hardest learned, and he told him that he’d always have a place to stay if he ended up falling on his face.  Then he told him never to touch that crap she puts in her veins.  Jack was pretty surprised that Miles knew about that, but then again, Miles knew just about everything.  Jack never did touch any drugs.  He smoked a little reefer now and then, but that doesn't count.  That stuff shouldn't even be illegal.

Jack and Tasha spent most of their time loving each other.  Jack kept up the hustling bit and did his best to get Tasha of the juice.  She was hooked though.  Before long, they found out she was pregnant.  Jack didn't have to push anymore.  She stopped shooting up on her own.  Something about another life depending on her to survive made all the difference.  She quit the stuff cold turkey.  Jack tried to talk her into going to rehab to help with the withdrawals, but she wouldn't have it.  She was sure that they would make her give up her baby.  Nobody was going to do that.

Tasha’s withdrawals were tough on the both of them, but Jack stayed right by her side.  He weathered the storm.  After a month, she said she still craved it, but it didn't consume her thoughts anymore.  Jack kept working.  He was going to have a family to support.  He was beginning to feel like he had a purpose.  Life was going to be great.

On Jack’s eighteenth birthday, he had the biggest payday of his life, one thousand dollars, a grand, for an easy delivery.  The job went off without a hitch.  Things were getting good.  He was getting regular work and his paydays were getting bigger.  He was even toying with the idea of buying a house.  It was time to celebrate.  He stopped by the restaurant and had Kyoto cook him up some steaks to go.  He even picked up some sparkling grape juice.  He would have gotten the good stuff, but there would be no alcohol for the mother of his child.  She was totally clean since giving up the heroin.  This birthday would be the best day of his life up to that point.

He raced home.  When he got to the apartment door, he heard a baby crying.  He almost dropped dinner on the floor.  The excitement swelling in his chest kept him from getting his key in the lock.  His baby had been born.  He was too excited to even be upset that he missed the birth.  She must have had it right there in the apartment.  Fumbling around with the key, he couldn’t even make his hand work.  He just wanted to hold his child in his arms and kiss it and hug it and he couldn’t get in the damn room.  Hysterical laughter began pouring out of him.  It was like a dream.  He just wanted to shout out at the top of his lungs, “Hey everybody, I’m somebody’s daddy!”

The key finally turned and he busted into the room.  Immediately, the thrill was gone.  He dropped dinner on the floor.  He barely noticed the sound of the fake bubbly smashing as it crashed onto the tiles.  Tasha was hanging from the ceiling by a belt.  Her mouth was open and her tongue was hanging out.  She was naked except for the robe that she had been wearing the first time Jack saw her.  Her legs were covered in blood that still dripped from her toes.  The puddle beneath her was huge, probably three feet in diameter.  Instantly, Jack tasted bile in the back of his throat.  He turned, put a hand on the wall to brace himself, and threw up.  As his body convulsed, he began sobbing.  He looked over at the table and saw all of Tasha’s gear.  She shot up.  Damn it Tasha!  She had been clean for a little over six months.  The baby was going to change her life.  The baby!

As tears rained down his cheeks, his ears finally focused back on the screaming.  His baby needed him.  It was on the bed, wrapped in towels.  He didn't even know if he had a son or a daughter yet.  He ran to the bed and picked the baby up, doing his best to quiet it down.  There was hunger in that cry though.  How the hell was he going to feed this kid?  He called Miles.  Miles would know what to do.  He knew everything.

While Jack waited for Miles, he did a little searching and found out that he had a daughter.  He let her suck on his pinky and it calmed her down a little bit.  Her face was beat red from crying for who knows how long, but she was beautiful.  She was the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen.  She looked just like her mother.  That was the second time Jack fell in love.  He looked in her eyes and said, “Welcome to the world Stiletto Rose.  That’s what I’m gonna’ call you.  You’re my Stiletto Rose.”

Shelia’s phone rang, abruptly waking her from her daydream.  Vinny said that he’d be calling her again, but Vinny was dead.  She looked at the display to catch the number.  Nothing. She wasn't dealing with the amateurs anymore.  Who was on the phone?  Who’s got my kids?  She took a deep breath and answered the call.

“Hello,” her voice totally sober, no emotion at all.  Never let them know that they’re getting to you.  Never lose control.  Always be in charge.  She did her best.

The response came in a thick German accent, “Stiletto Rose, my beautiful, deadly flower, I have something that you seek.  I am not interested in a game of cat and mouse with you.  You have seen my handiwork at the cottage.  That should be indication enough that I am not playing games with you.”

Shelia didn't respond.  She knew that she was speaking with the man they called The Blitzkrieg, and she knew that he had her children.  She also knew that his pause was for effect.  He wanted her to start sobbing and begging him not to hurt her babies.  She would have done it if she thought it would help the kids, but it wouldn't.  Keeping her cool was the only way to find out what the game was.  What was this German freak looking for?  What did he want?

After a long silence, the voice continued, “I can tell you that your children are safe with me and will remain so as long as you do exactly as you are told.  No more investigations or they will be dead when you find them, and you will find them.”

Shelia kept control of her tone, “Okay, whatever you say.  What’s the game?  What do you want me to do?”

“You will meet with my associates.  They will have further instructions for you.  If you contact anyone or call the police or any such nonsense, I will kill your children.  I know that I have a reputation for being swift and efficient when I work, but I promise you that I will kill them slowly.  They will feel much pain and will be happy to die when I’m finished with them.  I will videotape this for you and you will watch their suffering before you die.  Do you understand me?”

It was a struggle to hold her tongue, but she did.  Her reply was calm and polite, “I understand.  Where will I meet your associates?”

“They will come to you.  You are on Highway 41 correct.  They will be with you within the hour.”

They were tracking her, but how?  She hadn't been followed.  They must have gotten to the van.  He knew that she’d been at the cottage.  They could be there right at that moment, watching her every move.  A slight chill crawled down her spine.  She wasn't use to being prey.  She had always been the predator.  Her eyes scanned the area surrounding her.  Despite all of the lights, the rest area boasted many shadowy corners.  On top of that, it was surrounded by trees.  These weren’t just a few trees either.  It was more like a forest.

“Good-bye Stiletto,” the German’s voice snapped Shelia back to the conversation.

She tried to keep it to good-bye, but she couldn't stop herself, “Wait.  Can I talk to my children?”  Damn!  He would love that.  That was the fear he wanted to hear.  That’s what this freak got off on.

His tone become sharp and intense, “How dare you?  Do you take me for some amateur holding a prize for ransom?  I’m offended!  Take care in our future conversations Stiletto.  I am a man with very little patience and this project has already pushed me to my limit.  Do not push me beyond that point.”

The phone went dead.  Damn it!  She knew better than to show emotion.  She had to get her head on straight.  At least the amateurs were out of the game.  Professionals followed rules.  They were somewhat predictable.  The kids were just bait.  The Blitzkrieg wanted her not them.  As long as she could keep herself alive, he would need her kids.  How was she going to find them?  She couldn't call Rufus.  The only thing that she was completely sure of was that she didn't want to be in the van when the “associates” arrived.  They wouldn't have instructions for her.  They would have bullets.  The rules of the game changed when Vinny screwed up and shot Mark.  That wasn't part of the plan.  No, Vinny was supposed to get the kids without drawing a whole lot of attention.  That would be why he’s dead now.  Shelia knew that whomever the top dog on this hit was had originally wanted to make her suffer.  That’s why they needed the kids as bait.  With the cops obviously involved now, they wouldn't have time for that.  Now they just wanted her dead.  They’d keep the kids alive long enough to make sure that happened.  Then they’d kill them too.

Shelia grabbed everything she could carry out of the van and then headed off into the woods.  She had no idea what to expect, but she was pretty sure that they would strike fast.  Stiletto Rose had quite a reputation, and they knew that she and Shelia Ramsey were one and the same.  They wouldn't want to give her a chance to fight back.  ‘I’ll show him a deadly flower,’ she thought, as she found a good spot to hide.

Pat let himself into the Valentino house.  What would he do if he ran into Vinny?  He’d have to act like he didn’t know anything.  It didn’t take him long to determine that he wouldn’t be running into anybody.  It looked like someone had been and gone in quite a hurry.  The house had a funky smell to it too, like it had been closed up too long in the heat.  He would have opened the windows to get some fresh air in the place, but he didn’t want to disturb anything.  West Allis would be coming with a search warrant and he didn’t want to mess up their investigation.  He shook his head and sighed.  He still couldn’t believe that Vinny had killed somebody.

Pat went to the garage.  He opened the door slowly, adrenaline racing through his veins.  There could be some big, case breaking evidence behind that door.  This case was huge and he was a part of it.  Somewhere deep in the back of his mind he felt bad about the level of excitement he was feeling, but he couldn’t help himself.  It was exciting, even with his close connection to the case.  He had never been on anything this big before.  The most exciting cases he ever worked were related to some form of disorderly conduct.  This case was miles away from disorderly conduct.

Before the door was completely open, a faint coppery smell drifted out of the garage.  ‘Old blood,’ he thought.  The felt hair on his head stood up as something very close to fear shot through him and danced around with all of that adrenaline.  He was losing control of his excitement.  It was quickly turning into something else.  His left ear rose.  Whenever he was nervous or scared, he completely lost control of his frontails.  The idea of stepping into that garage, into that coppery smell that he knew was old blood, had him scared.  What if there was a dead body in there?  Logic told him that a rotting carcass would smell much stronger than the faint odor out of the garage.  However, his imagination had an entirely different story to tell.  He gathered himself up and pushed the door the rest of the way open.

The squeak of the hinges startled him enough to make him jump.  He stopped and scolded himself out loud.  “Damn it Pat, you’ve been a cop for coming on twenty-five years.  Get your balls out of your pocket and be a cop.”  He stepped into the darkness.  The Caddy was there.  It was dark as a moonless night in that garage, but he knew that the silhouette he was looking at was Vinny’s car.  After some fumbling along the wall to his left, he finally found the light switch.  The fluorescent bulbs that blazed to life when he flipped that switch might as well have been the glaring, desert sun.  Pat had been standing there in the darkness much longer than he realized.  He was squinting like Clint Eastwood in his Dirty Harry days.  He gathered himself again and walked slowly over to the car.

He walked around it first, making mental notes of every ding and discoloration.  The front, left fender was busted up pretty good and the dent was streaked with silver paint, silver paint from Shelia Ramsey’s minivan.  That confirmed the connection he had made earlier.  If Shelia Ramsey had anything to do with the murder of her husband, it was Pat’s fault for letting her go.  As that idea began to sink in more deeply, he almost slipped into to full self damning mode.  Luckily, the cop in him took over.  If she had hired Vinny to whack her husband, why would he have run her off the road?  No, that didn’t make any sense.  None of it did though.  Why would you whack a guy in broad daylight with witnesses all over the place, and then kidnap his children?  What the hell are you doing Vinny?

Pat looked at the driver side window of the Caddy.  The windows were tinted.  He couldn’t see in.  It was an illegal tint too.  He’d written enough tickets for that in his career that he could tell they were too dark without even testing them.  Of course he’d have to test them to write the tickets, but he always knew who to pull over.  He slipped his hand up into his sleeve to protect his fingerprints and pulled the door handle.  It was unlocked. He held his breath as he pulled it open and looked inside.  No bodies.  Thank God.  There was dry blood all over the seats though.  It didn’t look like a massacre or anything, but more than one of the occupants of the vehicle had been bleeding fairly heavily.  He searched around the floor of the car for a trunk release.  With his hand still pulled up into his sleeve, he pulled that too.

His left ear rose up again as he walked around the car to the trunk.  Nobody would leave a rotting carcass in the trunk of their own car, but…  He stepped around the back end and peered into the trunk.  There was nothing but some more dried blood.  Again, it wasn’t a massacre, but there was plenty of blood.  It certainly didn’t look like the vehicle was used to haul carcasses.  Pat scratched his head.  Vinny must have dumped the Caddy after grabbing the kids and used his parent’s van to take them somewhere else.  Hopefully they were still alive, for their sake and for Vinny’s.

Pat closed the Caddy back up and went back into the house.  His mind was racing, trying to work everything out.  Why would Vinny do something like that?  That was the biggest question.  The only good answer would be money, but if he needed money so bad he could get it from his parents.  Maybe it wasn’t money.  Maybe the kid had something to prove.  That would make more sense.  Or maybe it was money and he was just too proud to ask his parents for help.  Then again, maybe Pat just didn’t know the kid so well anymore.  Whatever Vinny’s reason was, what was done was done and Pat felt like it was his investigation.  The where should be easier to figure out than the why.  If a kidnapper were trying to hide out with some kids, they would want someplace that wasn’t easy to find.  He must have taken them to his parent’s cottage.  That’s where Pat would go next.  He knew exactly where it was.  He and Suzy had spent many a lost weekend there with their neighbors.  He just hoped he could get there before Vinny did anything else stupid, if he hadn’t already.

“Hey Huft,” Cheeks hollered across the office as he stormed towards Steve Huft’s desk.  “I’ve got a lead on the Ramsey case, an address on his parents.  They live in Brookfield.”

Steve didn’t look up from his desk, “Cool.  Vinny let the lease run out on his place in Milwaukee a couple of months ago.  His parent’s house is the only lead we’ve got right now.  Where did you get it?”

Cheeks averted his eyes, even though he didn’t need to.  Steve wasn’t looking at him anyway.  “Anonymous tip, the caller wouldn’t give their name.”

Now Steve looked up, “Anonymous tip my ass.  Where’d you get it?”

“I’m telling you, anonymous tip.”  He shifted slightly from foot to foot, a nervous habit he was aware of but couldn’t remedy.  The shifting was nearly imperceptible, but Steve noticed.

“Come on.  Where’d you get it?  Why’s it such a big secret?” annoyance slipped into Steve’s tone.  He didn’t like games and he didn’t like members of his team concealing information.  A team needed to move as a unit, one interconnected being.  When people start concealing information from each other, the team loses strength and eventually falls apart.  Individuals become cowboys chasing glory and they lose sight of the goal.

John Kominski piped in from his desk, “What’s the damn difference where he got it?  If he says it was an anonymous tip, then it was an anonymous tip.  Who the hell cares?  The important thing is that he’s got it.  Instead of interrogating him, you should be getting somebody on the search warrant.”

Steve shifted his gaze from Cheeks to John.  “First of all, if we’re going to get anywhere, we need to move as a unit.  The right hand needs to know what the left hand is doing.  Right now, I’m the right hand and I don’t know what the fuck the left hand is doing.  I don’t have time for people on my team dicking around and playing pocket pool.  Second, don’t tell me how to handle my team.  This is my investigation and I’m running the show here.”  He paused for effect before continuing.  “Now I know that none of you are happy about that fact, but it is a fact.  If you don’t want to be part of this team and act as a team, I’ll see about having you pulled off the case.  There are always tickets to write.”

John didn’t respond.  He just rolled his eyes and fumbled with some papers on his desk.  It was a poor attempt at trying to look like he was done with the conversation and getting back to work.  He wanted to jump across his desk and show that little punk Huft just exactly what he was in charge of.  That wouldn’t do him any good though.

Steve shifted his gaze back to Cheeks, “Now, where’d you get it?”

The scolding had cured his nervousness and replaced it with irritation, “I told you.  It was an anonymous tip.  I can’t give you info I don’t have.”

Steve shook his head and sighed, “Fine.  Get me the fucking search warrant.  I don’t want to see your face again until it’s in your hand.”

John chuckled and – under his breath – said, “Sending the left hand to jerk off, boss?”

“Fuck you!”  The case had him tense.  Normally he could let the jibes slide off.  He was used to them.  The lack of progress was too damn frustrating though.  The jibes weren’t sliding off so easy.  “What have you got, Chuckles?  Do you have any leads?”

John stopped laughing and shifted gears, “No, nothing yet.”

“Well I guess you’ve got work to do then.  I’m going to lunch.”

“It’s only ten thirty.”

“Yeah, well I’ve been here since four fifteen.  I’m going to lunch.  I’ll be back later.”

Pat sat with the phone against his ear chewing on the end of his pen like it was a candy cane, absent-mindedly spitting bits of the cap out as they came off in his teeth.  He had quit smoking five years prior.  A two pack a day habit from the time he was sixteen years old and he quit cold turkey.  He never really missed it, except when he had a lot on his mind.  Except when situations like thinking he allowed a murder to happen popped up.  Those were the times he mercilessly tore pens up with his teeth.  It was the habit part that he really missed.  When his nerves started acting up, he needed to do something with his mouth.  The pens paid.

Finally, a voice on the other end of the phone, “Thanks for holding.  This is Detective Cheeks.  How can I help you?”  Cheeks sounded like he had a mouthful of food.  William Cheeks had been Pat’s best friend since high school.  They both grew up in Winnetka, Illinois, both wound up enrolled at Marquette University, and both – to the chagrin of their parents – pursued careers in law enforcement.  Big Willy, as he liked to be called, ended up in West Allis while Pat found himself in Brookfield.  They never lost touch with each other. 

“Big Willy!” Pat tried to sound more excited than upset.  The effort was less than stellar.  “How have you been?” 

Willy still had a mouthful of doughnut that he was having a hard time getting down.  “What’s on your mind, Pat?  I know you didn’t call me at work just to see how I’m doing.  What’s going on?”

If Pat didn’t have so much on his mind he might have laughed and pimped his old friend out about the doughnut habit.  As much as both men hated when people cracked jokes about doughnut eating pigs, neither could break the habit.  Instead, he got directly to the point, “I need to know all you can tell me about the Ramsey murder.  I need some names.  I need to know who’s being looked at in this case.  A plate number off of the vehicle that was used during the kidnapping would be helpful too.  You know what I’m looking for.”

Willy cleared his throat.  He had finally managed to work the rest of the doughnut down.  “You know I can’t give you any of that.  Why are you so interested anyway?”

Pat ignored the question.  “Is Huft running the investigation?  He had his name all over the paper, so I’m assuming that he’s the man in charge.  How many years does he have in your department?”

“Sorry, bud.  I know what you’re trying to do and it ain’t gonna’ work.  Yes, he does happen to be my superior on this case and yes it does bother me.  In fact, it really pisses me off that he’s got no time in and he gets all the good cases.  But he does get them.  That’s the way it is and giving me a hard time about it isn’t going to make me do anything stupid.”  He asked again, “Why are you so interested in this case?”

Pat’s sigh was a loud one.  “I think the car that the perps were driving when they did the hit is the same car that ran a woman off the road in my neck of the woods the day before.  The wife is missing right?”

Silence.

Pat continued, “I’ll take that as a yes.  Anyway, I think that she may be involved somehow.  I don’t know how yet.  That’s why I need info.  This is tearing me up man.  She looked right in my eyes and lied to me.  Worse than that, I bought it.  I let her go.  If I could have brought her in on anything, maybe Mark Ramsey would still be alive and you wouldn’t be searching for two missing kids.  Can you help me out?”

“Shit man, I’m sorry but…” he paused for a moment.  “Hell, it will be all over the news in the next couple of days anyway. Look, I’ll give you a name and only because we’ve been friends for so long. I don’t think I need to mention that you didn’t get this name from me.  The owner of the car is Vincent Valentino.  They call him Vinny Heart on the street.  He’s got a pretty big rep in Milwaukee.  That’s all I can give you.  You know how Captain French is.  I’d get a nice, fat suspension if he found out I was leaking information about a case this big.  I hope that helps.”

Pat was silent for a moment as he processed the information.

“You there, Pat?”

“Did you say Vincent Valentino, Vinny?” shock dripped from Pat’s voice.

“You know him?”

“Know him, the kid’s my neighbor.  I watched him grow up.  He was always causing little bits of drama here and there.  But murder?  No way.  His mom’s gonna’ be crushed.  Are you sure about that?”

A bit of excitement crept into Willy’s voice, “You live next door to the punk’s parents?  I guess I don’t have to search for their address now.  I just need to get a search warrant.  Thanks for the tip, Pat.  I hope Huft will take it from me without asking how I got it.”

Pat was still a bit stunned, “No problem.  Thanks for the name.  You didn’t tell me how you’re sure it was him.”

“Oh.  All the witnesses questioned agreed on the description of the vehicle.  It was a black Cadillac; license number “VNY HRT”.  That’s your boy, Pat.  Sorry.”

“Yeah, that’s his car.  Thanks Willy.  Talk to you later.”

Pat slowly hung up the phone as his gaze drifted out the window and beyond.  The scent of chocolate chip cookies wafting from the kitchen distracted him from his thoughts, but just barely.  Suzy was a quite a good baker, the best as far as Pat was concerned.  That’s probably what kept him so round.  That woman sure was a demon cat in the kitchen.  Too many other thoughts were vying for his attention just then to focus too much on the deliciousness she was pulling out of the oven.  The Valentino’s had asked him to watch the house while they were on vacation in Miami.  Vinny had been around, in and out though.  Every winter since they had bought the place in Miami, they would mention to him that Vinny would be watching the place but asked that he “just keep an eye on things” for them.  So far all he’d done was take the mail from the box on the road and drop it on the kitchen counter.  There wasn’t much, they had all of the important stuff forwarded to their condo on the beach.  Most of what Pat brought in was junk.  On his next visit he would do more than just drop the mail off.  He would look around a bit.  He didn’t need to wait for a search warrant.

“Hey Suz,” he hollered into the kitchen.  “I’m running next door to take the mail up.  I’ll be back in a bit.”

“The mail won’t be here for a couple of hours,” she replied, distracted.  It didn’t matter.  He was already gone.

Rufus jumped out of bed.  He had his two-way radio hooked up to a horn that could make your ears bleed.  Stiletto must be calling.  He quickly shook off the cobwebs and grabbed the receiver.  “This is Thunder.  Go ahead”

Shelia was on the other end.  She didn’t bother with hello.  “What have you got on a cat they call Wiggles and some German hit man they call The Blitzkrieg?”

Rufus waited a second to respond, she was getting too close.  “Did you say Wiggles and the Blitzkrieg?  What the hell kinda’ names are those?  You’ve been hittin’ them comic books again?”  As much as he attempted to feign confusion, his tone gave him away.

“Why are you messing with me?”  Shelia’s tone dripped irritation, “I don’t have time for games Rufus.  They have my kids and these guys are pros.  The bums that did Mark were just patsies.  All four of them are dead.  Three were killed by whoever this Blitzkrieg is and the fourth bled out on the floor before I could finish questioning him.  I almost feel bad about the fourth one.  I might have let him go but he bled out before I could get back down to him.  That kid took a bullet trying to protect my kids.  Anyway, you gotta’ help me here Thunder.  I know these guys are pros.  They had a cleaner come in and everything.”

Rufus sounded distracted, “What happened to the cleaner?”

“I slit his fuckin’ throat!  What difference does it make?  What am I dealing with here?”  Her voice took on a pleading tone, “Come on man.  Where can I find these punks?”

He sighed, “Baby, you gotta’ come home.  You can’t win this one.  You’re right, they are pros and they will kill ya’.  And if you get to the kids, they’ll kill them and make you watch before they kill you.  You can’t save ‘em.  Just come home.  I warned you about baggage.”

“What?”  She screamed into the phone, “Am I hearing you right?  Are you telling me to forget my kids, just walk away and act like they never happened?  Are you fucking kidding me? These are my kids we’re talking about, Rufus.  And quit calling them baggage!  They are my kids, not baggage!  I’m not the same person I was fifteen years ago!  I carried that baggage – both bags, fucker – for nine months.  They’re part of me.  I can’t believe you.  What the hell happened to you?  Are you that afraid of the bums that you won’t even help me?  Do you want to know what I did after I killed that fuckin’ cleaner?  I puked my guts out.  This isn’t me anymore.  That baggage, as you so eloquently call it, is my life now!  They’ve already taken my husband.  They can’t have my kids too, not without a fight.”

Rufus’s voice was somber and monotone, “I know you’re not the same person.  That’s why you can’t win.  I’m not the same person either.  That’s why I can’t help you.”

Shelia couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “Fuck you Rufus!  What would my Dad say if he were alive to hear you call his grandchildren baggage?  What if it were him asking you for help because some slugs had kidnapped me?  I’ll tell you what if.  You would have stopped the earth from spinning if you had to.  I don’t even know you anymore.”

Tears welled up in his eyes and a couple slipped over his quivering lids, “I’m sorry baby.”  His words were barely a whisper, but she was gone anyway.

“Damn it man!”  He slammed his fist down on the nightstand next to his bed.  She was right.  She didn’t know why and he couldn’t tell her, but she was right.

Rufus dropped his head into his hands and hated himself for while.  He let the tears come as thoughts of Jack paraded around his head.  “I let ya’ down brotha’,” he said out loud.  Jack was the closest thing to a brother that he’d ever had and Stiletto was the closest thing to a daughter that he’d ever have.  He was letting them both down.  Stiletto’s problems were all his fault and he was too scared to help her.

He stayed like that for the better part of two hours, hating himself.  Then he rose and walked to the bathroom.  He took a good, long look at himself in the mirror, scowling at his reflection as it scowled back at him.  The stare down with his reflection lasted a solid fifteen minutes.  Then he balled his right hand up into a tight fist and pounded the mirror, smashing it into little sparkling bits.  They seemed to hover, weightless, shining light all over the walls before falling in slow motion to the ground.  As his knuckles connected with the mirror, he shouted with all of the might he had left, “Fuck you!”

He spent the next half of an hour picking tiny bits of glass out of his hand and then wrapping it with gauze.  He ran both hands across the top of his head and clasped them behind it.  Then he took a deep breath and held it for what seemed like eternity.  “Don’t worry Jack.  I ain’t goin’ out like no pussy.  I made you a promise man, and I aim to keep it.  Live or die baby, I’m gonna’ get those kids and I’m gonna’ keep our girl alive.”

Patrick O’Malley sat at his small kitchen table, drinking reheated, day old coffee and reading the morning paper.  His eyes snapped to the headline of the front page.  In a massive font it read, “Milwaukee Man Gunned Down in Front of West Allis School.”  He’d been off the day before and couldn’t stand watching the news anymore.  Even in quiet Brookfield he saw enough of the evil people do that he got more than his fill without watching “The Gloom and Doom Show”.  That’s what he called the news.  It didn’t matter what channel, it was all the same sensationalized crap.  The paper really wasn’t any better, but he couldn’t bring himself to give up that part of his routine.

He quickly scanned the article, ignoring the liberal slant the local rag always managed to put on every story.  All he wanted were the facts; names, dates and places.  Something stuck out.  The fellow that ended up on the wrong end of the gun was named Ramsey.  ‘Ramsey,’ he thought.  ‘Where do I know that name from?’  He read further, half of his attention on the rest of the article and the other half searching his memory for that name.  Something about that name was familiar.  It was fresh too, within the past few days.

“Hey Suz,” he hollered into the den where his wife was crocheting.  “Where do I know the name Ramsey from?  Who’s Ramsey?”

Susan O’Malley was a forty five year old beauty.  Close friends always joked that she and Pat were like Beauty and the Beast.  Pat at forty-seven looked his age or better, Susan could pass for mid thirties easy.  Her figure had expanded a bit, but she still had it, and her prom queen good looks.  The only real maintenance she ever had to do was on her hair.  She refused to go gray.  It wasn’t vanity; she just couldn’t bear to part with her golden curls.  “Is that the fellow that subbed on your bowling team that time, that friend of Les?”

Pat shook his head and kept reading while he talked, “No, that was Ramos and he’s a permanent on the team now.”

“Sorry honey,” her voice was soft like gentle rain.  “I can’t keep up with you and the boys.”

Then he found it, the perps were driving a late model, black Cadillac.  Ramsey was the name of that woman that wrapped her van around a tree two days ago.  That caused him some overtime.  How could he forget that?  The plates on her van were registered in her husband’s name, Mark Ramsey.  There goes her story about a drunk driver.  Further along in the article it stated that the victim’s wife and two children were missing.  Witnesses stated that two children – matching the description of the Ramsey kids – had been abducted from the scene, but they didn’t have any leads on the wife.

Pat stared out the window to his left and let everything process for a moment.  She had fed him a line and he bought it.  He had always fancied himself an excellent judge of character, great at reading people.  She never flinched.  Maybe he could have done something to stop the murder.  Maybe she had something to do with it.  “Damn!” he said out loud as he rolled the paper up and slapped it on the table.

“What’s the matter baby?”  Suzy called from the den.

“Aw nothin’,” he replied, almost to himself.

“Are you okay?”  Suzy walked in from the den and began rubbing Pat’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” he sighed.  “Do you remember that lady that wrapped her car around the tree the other day?  I told you about it.  Probably a drunk driver, remember?”

She cocked her head to the side and squinted a bit, “Yeah, I remember.  You said there was something about her eyes, something familiar.  You couldn’t place her face, but you were sure that you knew her somehow.  It sounded to me like you might have been a bit sweet on her.  You got it bad, don’t ya’?”  She finished with a small giggle and squeezed his shoulders almost to the point of pinching.

He shook his head and sighed, “Oh knock it off.  I think she may have something to do with a murder and I let her go.  She lied right to my face.  Me.  And I bought it hook, line, and sinker.  Nobody does that to me.  I can see right through people.”

She kept rubbing his shoulders, “Take it easy big guy.  Even the best pilots crash a plane now and then.”

“What?” he actually chuckled a little, “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Well, it made you laugh.”

“It did.”  He shook his head again, “You’re an angel.  What did you ever see in a bum like me?  You could have had any man, any man you wanted.  Why’d you pick me?  I know it wasn’t for my good looks.”  He patted the paunch above his belt as he finished the statement.

“Because you had big arms, a big heart, and you made me laugh.”  She bent down and kissed him on the cheek.

“I still have big arms.”

“And a big heart and you still make me laugh.”

“I gotta’ call cheeks.”  He turned toward her, rose from his chair, and kissed her cheek.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, “Why do you need to call him?”

“The shooting was in West Allis.  They’re covering the case and I have info that may be helpful.  Besides, I want to see if they’re willing to share information with me.”

“Why?” she shrugged, only slightly irritated.  “If the murder happened in West Allis, it’s their problem.  It’s not even your case.  It’s not even your jurisdiction.  Can’t these kinds of things be dangerous?  What if you get shot or something?  The only reason I agreed to the police thing was because it was Brookfield and I wouldn’t have to worry so much…”

“Relax,” he gently held her by the shoulder and looked into her eyes.  “I’m not going to get hurt.  I have to know if this woman had anything to do with her husband’s death. On top of that, those kids were abducted.  If they’re still alive, I may be able to help find them.  Don’t you realize that if she had anything to do with it, this could all be my fault?  I let her go.  I had her and I let her go.  Now somebody’s dead and two kids are missing.”

“And so what if you find out that she did, then what?”

“Then I won’t be able to live with myself.”

“And how am I supposed to live with you if you can’t live with yourself?”

He looked passed her to someplace far beyond the kitchen window, “I don’t know.  I gotta’ call cheeks.”

The room came slowly into focus for Danny.  It wasn’t spinning so much, more like shifting, rolling slightly and then snapping back into focus.  For the briefest moment he thought of his grandmother’s old phone.  When he was young he would sit and spin the dial over and over again, turning it and watching the numbers roll back into place.  There wasn’t anything quite like the sound it made, the buzz and then the click, click, click, click, click.  Grandma would always end up hollering, but he just couldn’t keep himself from doing it anyway.  The ceiling was doing that just then, but without the sound.

As Danny slowly came to, he realized that he was lying on his back in the middle of the basement floor.  Then he noticed the face above his head.  Blonde hair hung all around it, almost touching his face.  Soft brown eyes stared down at him.  He was still having a hard time focusing and began to think that he might be dead.  Perhaps the face above him belonged to an angel that had come to take him to heaven.  He wondered if they’d let him stay or send him right off to hell.

“Where are my kids Danny?”  Shelia’s tone was all business.

All at once, the grogginess was gone.  That face belonged to an angel all right, the angel of death.  Danny tried to move but his arms were all taped up.  The myth, Stiletto Rose was sitting on his chest ready to kill him, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.  Even if she didn’t have him tied up there wouldn’t be a thing that he could do about it.  She was the baddest of the bad.  He never should have listened to Jimmy.  Getting mixed up with Vinny Heart was the dumbest thing he ever did.  He was just about to beg for mercy when Shelia broke the silence again.

“Talk to me punk.”  Her tone was still all business.  “Who has my kids and where the hell are they?”

Danny started to speak but his voice wasn’t much more than a hoarse whisper, “Please…please don’t…”

“Look, if I’m going to kill you, I’m going to kill you.  Nothing you could say would sway me in the least.  Begging like a scared dog isn’t going to help you at all. That will just irritate me and make me want to kill you slow.  I don’t have time for that right now and I don’t have time to listen to you whimper.  Now where are my kids?”  Her tone remained completely calm.  She was like ice.

Danny cleared his throat.  “The German was supposed to come for them.  I heard gunshots.  I was hiding.  Somebody took them but I don’t know who.”

“What German?”

Danny cleared his throat again.  “They call him The Blitzkrieg.  He’s a pro, some dude from Germany.  You know, an assassin.”

The name wasn’t familiar.  “The Blitzkrieg?  What’s his real name?  If you were hiding when the shots were fired, how’d you get shot?”

“Vinny shot me.  He woulda’ killed me, but that German dude showed up I think.”

“You think?”

“Well the door bell rang and he went upstairs.  He said he was gonna’ kill me later but he never came back.”  Danny was looking at the ceiling, too scared to make eye contact with the legend.

She sighed, “He’s dead.  So is everybody else up there, all three of them.  There’s a fourth one too.  He’s not part of your crew though.  I knew that because he was the only one without ID on him.  He had a scissors sticking out of his eye.  Judging from your profiles, I’m guessing Lenny surprised him.  You guys are real amateurs.  What were you thinking taking on a job like this?  And why did Vinny shoot you?”

Danny’s head was swimming and not just from being dizzy.  The whole job was bad from the beginning.  It was all a set up.  He should have never listened to his brother and got involved with Vinny Heart.  “Vinny set it all up.  This was his job.  He just hired us to help him pull it off.  Jimmy said it would be a big payday for us.  I guess he got his payday.”  He was too scared and confused to mourn his brother’s loss just then, so he continued.  “Vinny shot me because I was sticking up for them kids.  He was gonna’ do something bad to that girl.  The boy was sticking up for her, so Vinny started beating on him.  I couldn’t stand to watch it, so I stopped him.  I woulda’ kicked his ass too, but he shot me.”

Shelia clenched her jaw tight, “He was beating on my kids?  You said that he was doing something bad to the girl.  What was he doing to my daughter?”

Danny shook his head.  “He didn’t get a chance to do anything to her.  That boy was sticking up for her and took the beating so she didn’t have to.  Those are some brave kids you’ve got there.”

Shelia’s jaw remained clenched.  “What was he going to do to my daughter?”

“I don’t know.  He had her by the hair and he was pulling his dick out.  I guess you can figure where he was going with that.  Like I said though, he never got the chance.”

“Where were they taking my kids?”

“I don’t know.  The only one who talked to the German at all was Vinny, but I don’t think that he knew anything either.  We was just supposed to bring ‘em here and wait for that dude to show up.”

Before Shelia could respond again, she heard the front door upstairs open.  She quickly clamped her hand over Danny’s mouth to keep him quiet.  Then she quietly put her index finger up to her lip.  She slipped off Danny and crept over to the stairs, peeking around the doorway just enough to see what was going on up there.  Two legs walked backwards with a body dragging behind them.  They hired a cleaner.  They were pros.  No wonder they left the place such a mess and didn’t manage to kill Danny.  They didn’t even bother to look for him.  Somebody else would be cleaning up their mess.

Shelia waited for the cleaner to get out the door and then moved quickly but quietly up the stairs.  She needed to find out what the cleaner knew.  There should only be one.  People in that line of work normally like to work alone.  Somebody who would take a job like that probably gets along better with the corpses they haul than the guys that hire them.  She waited beside the door.

When the cleaner came back in, she let him walk two steps passed her before she snapped a quick sidekick to the side of his knee.  He howled as fell to the ground reaching inside his jacket.  It had been awhile and Shelia was a little rusty. She expected him to go for a weapon though.  She followed him to the ground and slammed his head into the floor with one hand as she fished the gun out of his jacket with the other.  Before the little fellow could get his bearings, Shelia was pulling him to his feet by the little bit of hair he had on his head.  Then she slammed his face into the counter to ensure his complete and undivided attention.  Before he could even think about struggling she had spun him around, dropped him onto a chair, and cuffed his arms to it.  Then she took a good long look at him.

He was short, maybe five foot six on a good day.  A ring of gray hair surrounded the smooth top of his head.  His face looked weathered, but his eyes were keen.  He was definitely a smoker.  Smoking had a way of aging a person.  Looking at his skin he could have been sixty, but Shelia figured him to be no more than forty-five.  He had a round build, soft.  That would be why he was a cleaner and not doing hits.  Fear danced around in his cold blue eyes.  That was good.  She wanted him to be scared.  She wanted him to talk.

“Who hired you?”  Her tone was as direct and businesslike as it had been with Danny.  She believed in giving people a chance to give info up on their own before putting the squeeze on them.

He tried like hell to keep his tone calm, but his voice betrayed him with the slightest tremble.  “Just a voice on the phone, I’ve got no names.”  His voice carried a gruffness that hinted at a taste for whiskey.

Shelia clamped a hand around his throat and squeezed.  Her thin arms were deceptively strong.  “Don’t lie to me.  Give me a name or I’ll have to give your family a reason to get together.”

“I don’t have any family and I don’t have a name for you.”  He could barely squeak the words out through Shelia’s grip.

She slapped him.  Normally she’d take more time on an interrogation, but she didn’t have any to take.  “Don’t fuck with me.  I need a name.”  She slapped him again, harder this time.

He still had the slightest tremble in his voice, but he continued to play the hard line.  “I can’t give you what I haven’t got.  I’ve got no name for you.”

Shelia’s fist pounded into his nose.  She could tell it broke by the way it gave under the weight of her knuckles.  It stung a little bit.  She hadn’t hit anyone in years.  It was all coming back to her though.  She punched him again.  The blood pouring out of his nose had already made it down to his chin and was beginning to drip off of it.  She punched him again, hoping to jar his memory and loosen up his tongue.

“Give me a name.”

“Please.  I didn’t get a name.”

“Bullshit.”  She hit him again.

“Please stop!  Please stop!”  He was crying as his words came out in a wet whimper amidst the drool and blood draining into his throat.

“Alright,” she said, her tone settling back into something more businesslike.  “I won’t hit you anymore.  I’ll just take your pinky.”

In a flash Shelia slipped a knife out of her belt.  The light danced off of the blade shooting bright flashes across the walls.  The cleaner’s eyes looked close to popping out of his head when Shelia brought it into view.  A gasp slipped passed his lips.  The blood and phlegm he inhaled because of it sent him into a mad coughing fit.  Shelia took a step back to let him clear it out without coating her with it.  Once he calmed down she brought the knife back into his view and then gently dragged it down his cheek.

“Give me a name.”  Shelia’s tone remained completely calm.

The cleaner’s clogged sinuses made his response a hoarse whisper, “I told ya’ lady, I’ve got no name.”

“Open your hand.”

“Fuck you lady.  You ain’t cutting off my finger.  You want to kill me, kill me.  But you ain’t cutting parts of me off.”

“Open your hand.”

The cleaner just shook his head.  Sweat started to bead up on his forehead as his whole body began trembling.  He didn’t know anything about those kids or this lady threatening to cut off his digits.  He had a name, but he wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.  Part of him was pretty sure that this pretty little thing was bluffing.  One thing he did know for sure was that he was still more afraid of the guy who owned the name she wanted than he was of her.  That wouldn’t last.

Shelia grabbed the back of the cleaner’s hair and gave it a yank as she slammed the handle of her knife down on his clenched fist.  “Open your fuckin’ hand!”  Her voice had lost the calm serenity that it had just moments prior.

He couldn’t keep his hand closed any longer.  Once the handle of the knife hit the back of it, arrows of pain shot straight up his arm and into his shoulder.  The bones in his hand made a crunching sound.  He couldn’t keep his grip.  It loosened and Shelia grabbed a hold of his pinky.  She stretched it out away from his other fingers, not wasting any time.  In a moment the edge of her blade was sitting up against the base of his pinky.

“This might hurt a little,” she smiled.

“No!”  The cleaner screamed.

“A name,” she pushed a little harder with the blade, just enough to break the first layer of skin.

“Please don’t!  They’ll kill me!”  He didn’t think she was bluffing anymore.

“You think I won’t?  Give me a name.”  She pushed harder still, this time slicing slightly downward earning a thin trickle of blood and a healthy scream from the cleaner.

“Okay, okay,” he screamed, “I’ll give you the fuckin’ name!  Just stop cutting me you bitch!”

She eased up on the pressure.  “What’s the name?  Who hired you?”

The cleaner had tears streaming down his cheeks but managed to keep himself at a point just short of sobbing.  “They call him Wiggles.”  He choked the words out between sniffles.  “I don’t know why they call him that and I don’t know his real name.  Wiggles is all I know.  I never met him.  I just talked to him on the phone.  He was putting the money in an account for me so I wouldn’t see his face or know who he was.  He gave me an address and a time.  That’s all I know.  I swear to god that’s all I know.”

“Good,” Shelia said as she turned around.  “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The cleaner was beginning to calm down, “Maybe not for you bitch, but I’m a dead man.  They’re gonna’ kill me and you know it.  They won’t make it quick either.  They’ll torture me and dump me in the fucking lake.  You know how these fuckers work.  They make you look like a sweet little princess.  I’m a dead man.  They’re gonna’ kill me for…”

“No they won’t.”  Shelia whispered as she spun and slit the cleaner’s throat from his right ear to his left ear.  She stopped him in mid-sentence and left an odd look of surprise on his face.  He didn’t make another sound.  Shelia continued, “They won’t get the chance.  Sorry little fella’, but I can’t leave you alive to tell them that I’m coming.  And never call me bitch.”