Chapter Twelve
Mace
I had nowhere to be. It was fucking seven in the morning on a Friday.
I just couldn’t stand being in that room with her any longer, knowing how much she hated me right then. I had to get out of there and clear my head. I needed to speak to Dad. I thought I could handle this on my own, but I was fucking everything up royally, and as much as I hated to admit it, I needed his help.
I turned onto the freeway and headed toward the state prison, thirty miles east. Pulling off the freeway and into a roadhouse to fill up with gas, I decided that I might as well have something to eat and a coffee. It was either that or wait outside the prison until they opened for visitors.
I walked inside, the smell of bacon and eggs frying making my mouth water. The place was empty, aside from a couple of truckers enjoying some breakfast, and an older waitress slumped behind the counter. She perked up as I approached.
“What can I get ya?” she asked.
“A coffee, back thanks. And a plate of bacon and eggs.” I handed her a twenty, waving at her to keep the change.
I wandered through the restaurant over to one of the corner booths, and sat down. Sighing, I rested my head in my hands. What was I doing? This had to be the stupidest idea ever. How could I possibly see this ending well? Not only had I well and truly fucked things up with Leet, but my chances of finding the guys who raped Anna were slipping away.
I smiled at the waitress as she dumped my breakfast in front of me.
“Call me if you want a refill,” she muttered.
I tucked into my undercooked eggs, and burnt bacon—so well done I almost broke a tooth—washing it down with the coffee.
Shit. Finn. I winced as I pulled out my phone and found his number.
Dude, sorry not well. Won’t be in today. Just do what you can and leave me a list.
Getting to my feet, I nodded at the waitress and headed out to my car. What I needed to do was stop being such a pussy and focus on what needs to be done. I was going to catch these cunts. No question.
I just have to pray that I’m getting closer. So long as I can remain in the loop, eventually they’re going to fuck up, and I’ll find them. So help me God when I do find them.
They’re going to wish they were dead.
#
Dad saw me approaching the visitors’ area as I walked through the gates. His eyes widened in shock. Not that surprising, considering I visited him maybe once every six months—unless I needed something. He crossed his arms and waited for me to approach his table.
The visitors’ area was outside, with a large section undercover. Bolted down steel tables were scattered around the area. It was depressing, but you’d expect that from a maximum-security prison. I studied Dad as I sat down. He looked older. Tired. His dark hair had begun to pepper with grey in the past few months.
“Mace.” No how are you, or good to see you. It was typical Dad.
“Hi,” I muttered, sliding onto the bench seat. I rested my arms on the table.
“Didn’t expect to see you anytime soon,” he said. That was probably as close to a positive comment as I was going to get. I sighed.
I didn’t have time for small talk. And when he found out what I’d done . . . well, let’s just say he was going to be pissed.
See, Dad had it in his mind that I was better than him and Cash. Knowing I was messed up in something like this, whatever the reason, was going to crush his perception that maybe he wasn’t that bad a father.
“You here for a reason?” he asked, lighting a cigarette. I nodded. We didn’t beat around the bush.
“I’m in some trouble.”
He stiffened, as if he hadn’t been expecting that. Wait till he hears the full story.
“Yeah? How’s that?” he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
“Things are pretty messed up. I think you know me well enough to know I wouldn’t come to you unless it was bad.”