Killing Monarchs by Cary J. Griffith

Author:Cary J. Griffith [Griffith, Cary J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781647551766
Published: 2023-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

DAY 3

Friday, May 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The school was in a residential neighborhood not far from the state fairgrounds. Domina cruised by the building’s front, noticed a flagpole and a curved walk and bushes lining the low brick walls, and continued driving to the next block. The time was nearing 5 a.m., when they were expecting to meet Tommy, Domina’s old juvie contact and the receiver of the next shipment from Las Monarcas.

“Quiet as a goddamn morgue,” Lockhart said. “Pull up near the school, but not in that loading zone. We don’t need any trouble.”

Domina turned around the block and drove by the front a second time, parking near the building’s corner.

It was too early for daylight. Beyond a field and playground, they could see the shadowed backyards of neighborhood homes, their windows dark. They approached the school’s corner and paused. Halfway down the school’s low brick outside wall, a steel door bar clicked and the door cracked open 2, maybe 3 inches.

Domina walked down the sidewalk adjacent to the building while Lockhart and Tiburon remained at the dark school corner. When Domina was close, the door swung open.

“Hey, Doms,” Tommy Cummins said, holding the door. “¿Qué pasa?”

The pair of them bumped knuckles. “Hey, Tommy. Been too long,” she said. Then she turned and motioned to Lockhart and Tiburon.

Domina went through the door and Tommy closed it a crack while the others approached. He watched through the narrow opening and when he saw them near, he swung the door open and let them in.

“It’s a damn convention,” Tommy said. The door closed behind them and they could hear it click shut.

“These are my associates,” Domina said.

“It’s cool,” was all he said, barely nodding in Lockhart and Tiburon’s direction. Tommy wore low-hung jeans that crumpled at the bottom over big work boots. He wore a black T-shirt with The Doors emblazoned in faded green lettering across the front. “We got the whole school to ourselves. Nobody’s here. Too damn early.”

Tommy turned the corner, and they entered a long shadowy hallway, partially lit by overhead bulbs that looked like night-lights.

“Heard from anyone?” Domina said.

“From the Still?” Tommy said.

Tommy and Domina had both served time in the juvenile detention center near Stillwater. Domina and Jerry had done time in the Arrowhead Center, so Tommy didn’t know Jerry or about any of the business that happened in Hopkins.

“Yeah,” Domina said. “Any of the old gang?”

“No one. Everyone’s trying to keep a low profile, know what I mean?” he said.

They continued talking about old times and former friends, while Tommy led them down the long, low-lit hallway and turned at the end. Then they walked down another hallway and down some stairs to a lower utility room, just like in Hopkins.

Lockhart didn’t like the easy familiarity between Domina and Tommy. Lockhart had never liked friendship, considering it a weakness. But for now he stayed behind them and waited.

Tommy took out his keys, opened the steel door, and stepped into the room, flipping on the light. Overhead fluorescents blinked on, white and intense.

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