Vinnie was silent. One of the officers searched his pockets and found a wallet. He handed it to the sergeant. He opened it and looked. His expression changed. “Vincent Kovacs?” Vinnie nodded. The sergeant pulled out his radio. “Dispatch, run a check.”
“Vincent Kovacs, DOB 1978.” A pause. Static on the radio. A voice came through. “Kovacs has an active warrant. 2006 armed robbery. Alert issued today.” The sergeant turned to Vinnie. “You’re under arrest. Stand up!”
Vinnie rose, swaying. They unchained him and cuffed him. They led him out of the barn. Greg stood by the door, watching. Vinnie passed by and stopped. He looked Greg in the eye. There was no anger, only emptiness. “You won,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t win anything,” Greg replied. “You just lost yourself.” They took Vinnie away and put him in the cruiser. The sergeant walked up to Greg. “We’ll need a statement. You want to come down now or tomorrow morning?” “I’ll come in tomorrow.” “Fine.
Leave your number, we’ll be in touch.” Greg gave him the number, the sergeant wrote it down and nodded. The police got in their cars and left. The sirens faded into the night. Greg was alone. Silence returned. He locked the barn and went inside.
He sat at the table. His hands weren’t shaking. His heart was steady. Everything had gone as it should. The snitch was caught, the lesson was taught. But he felt hollow. He knew. The quiet life was over. Now there would be questions. The police would wonder how a senior citizen managed to tie up a young, healthy man.
The neighbors would hear that the police were at Greg’s. They’d start asking questions. The anonymity he’d kept for six years was cracked. But there was no other way. Vinnie had come to him. Greg had only defended himself. By the law, he was right. By the code, too.
The next day, Greg went to the station. He gave his statement. He told them what happened. Three guys showed up, demanded money, threatened him. He defended himself, tied one up, the others fled. It was clean. The detective took it down and let him go. Said they’d call if they needed an ID.
He returned to town. The neighbors looked at him differently. With caution. Mr. Henderson came by that evening and asked. “Greg, is it true those punks came by?” “It is.” “And you took them on yourself?” “I did.” Henderson was silent for a moment. Then he nodded.
“Good for you. They were seen around town. They went to Mrs. Gable’s, took her money. She was terrified.” “And you weren’t?” “I wasn’t.” Henderson patted him on the shoulder and left. But Greg saw it; in his eyes wasn’t just respect—there was fear.
People realized that quiet Greg the gardener wasn’t so simple. A week later, Monty called. “Ghost, I got news. Kovacs was sent back to the city. The trial was fast; the old case was solid. He got another eight years. They sent him to Blackwood.”
“You know that facility?” “I do. Max security. Old School.” “Exactly. The word’s already out. The elders know he snitched at Stateville. And they know he tried to tax a Chairman. He won’t last long there.” Greg was silent.
Monty continued. “Zip and Slim popped up too. Zip went to a hospital in Ohio, said he fell. The doctors didn’t buy it, but they couldn’t prove anything. He’s living with relatives now. Slim went to Kentucky, got a job at a warehouse, I heard. Both are keeping their heads down.”
“Good.” “You okay, Ghost?” “I’m okay.” “Take care of yourself.” Greg hung up, sat on the porch, lit a cigarette, and thought about Vinnie. He was inside now. He knew his days were numbered. The elders had already decided. It was just a matter of time. A month, two, maybe three.
But the end was the same. Greg didn’t regret it. Vinnie chose his path—snitching, breaking the code, thinking he’d get away with it. He didn’t. Now he was paying. August passed quietly. September. Greg worked in the garden, harvesting his crops. The neighbors nodded, but they didn’t come close.
They respected him, but they were afraid. It was inevitable. Once people know you aren’t like them, they pull away. In late September, Monty called again. “Ghost, Kovacs is dead.” Greg wasn’t surprised. “How?” “In his cell, at night. Found him in the morning…”
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