Family Lies

The two men glared at one another. Sam Barrett was blond, clean-shaven and well dressed. “Well, Trent, you too good to come out of this stinking hole? I don’t know why Dodger insisted that I come tell you this in person. The phone is easier.”

Sergeant Sonny Cochran, AKA Mike Trent, watched his unwilling companion as he thumped a half-smoked cigarette onto the floor and ground it out. “No tellin’ what Deuce has in mind-never is, but he’s probably worried ‘bout your phone with all the crap that’s been going down.”

“You still could have come up to the house. Nobody’d think about it twice.” Sam crossed his arms over his chest.  “You’d have come if Barton had asked. In fact,” he hesitated. He never knew how the narcotics officer would react. “Barton’s the reason I’m here.”

“Bart?” Trent wheeled to face him. “Any word from him?” He was almost wistful.

Sam made a face. He could cheerfully strangle the pair and Dodger too, at this point. “No, but he would have insisted I tell you about this.” Impatiently, he pushed an errant lock of hair out of his eyes.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Trent dug in the pocket of his shirt for another cigarette.

“Same day you did.” Habit made him rub the bridge of his nose.

They eyed one another again as Trent lit the smoke. The looks were rueful as they shared a memory. They were of the same height, but Trent’s coloring and taste in clothing were markedly different. In fact, he looked like a refuge from the 60’s. His shaggy, brown hair hung to the collar of his camouflage t-shirt and straggled down into a pair of warm, brown eyes. His ragged jeans had a long tear in them that revealed a good section of muscular thigh. Tucked into the back of the jeans was a .38 revolver.

“Let’s quit wastin’ time. I left Rick holding down the fort,” Barrett snapped as his nerves suddenly became piano wire tight.

“That bastard is going to back-shoot you one of these days, just for the pure meanness of it.” Trent’s tone was mocking as he took a drag off the cigarette. “That little girl you foisted off on him ain’t gonna tame him none.”  He immediately regretted the statement, wishing Sam didn’t make an issue of baiting him when he was undercover. He couldn’t remember the last time they had just sat down and had a civil conversation. “What’d Deuce think was so important he sent you to be an errand boy?”

Sam glowered at him for a minute. “This was a mistake.” He headed for the door.

“Hey, Sam! I’m sorry.” Trent’s tone was regretful. Sam stopped with his hand on the knob. “Sometimes I forget you’re not in this position by choice, not yours anyway. Friends again?”

Sam hesitated before shaking the cop’s callused hand. “For now. Pete’s boys have been out beating the bushes and they turned up Taylor with some information. Your cover might not be good. There’s a hit list with you, me, Victoria, Bart and a couple of other folks on it, a couple which have already died or disappeared. Thing is, you’re on it as Trent and Cochran.”  Sam leaned against the door.

“That’s crazy, unless Bart. . .”

“Why would he put his own name on the list? We don’t even know where he is.” Sam shrugged, stood upright and opened the door.

“Don’t make any sense. You think Bart’s one of the dead ones?” Trent followed him into the narrow hall.

“No, we’d have heard…” Sam broke off as the first shot from the stairwell struck the wall by his head. The next three shots came in rapid succession, but both men had begun to move. Barrett turned to help Trent whose shoulder was already streaming blood, but was knocked down as Trent dove at him. As Barrett fell with the heavier body on top, he felt something strike his forehead. The shooting continued, seemingly in a new direction, but neither man moved.

Barrett’s last coherent thought was that he had finally broken his own first commandment and it had gotten him killed.