Sting

She looked at him expectantly. “What did you get?”

“Rings. No answer. No voice mail. Just like the three times I’ve called it since then.” He showed her the history of his attempts, the most recent being that afternoon while she slept. “Maybe we’ll get lucky this time.” He tapped the screen and held the phone so she could hear the rings. Her heart thumped with fearful anticipation, but the call went unanswered.

After seven or eight rings, he disconnected. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved, but his scrutiny of her was unsettling.

“No one approached you in the bar except that idiot who slipped you the phone number.”

“He had nothing to do with anything,” she said. “It wasn’t him who called me.”

“How do you know?”

“Did he look trustworthy to you, or like someone who could carry out a dangerous mission for Josh?”

In spite of her scoffing, Shaw’s stare didn’t waver.

She added, “I think when he came over to me, he must’ve scared off the person who called. Which was the main reason I became so irritated with him.”

“He scared off the mysterious caller who was going to give

you information about Josh.”

This time she acknowledged his sarcasm. “You think I’m lying.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Your tone implied it.”

“First you complain about my innuendos, now my tone. Makes me wonder if I’ll ever be able to satisfy you. Ooops.” He exaggerated a wince. “Another innuendo.”

She came straight off the crate to her feet. “I think you scared him off.”

“When I shot Mickey? Wrong. Because by then you had realized you’d been stood up and had hightailed it out of there.”

“I hightailed it because I realized how irrational it was to have gone in the first place. When I got that call, I didn’t know Josh had escaped. I thought that perhaps someone would deliver a message from him, or give me a way to reach him. Something like that.”

She could tell he wasn’t buying it. Sighing, she returned to her seat on the crate and rubbed her temple. “Honestly, I don’t know what was going through my mind. I reacted without thinking. The moment I walked into that place, I realized how stupid it was to have gone streaking off into the night.

“The longer I sat there, fending off that creep, the more likely it seemed that the call had been a hoax, someone playing a cruel joke on me. I was still thinking it was a prank until I turned around, saw you and Mickey coming toward me, and realized that Billy Panella was behind the whole thing.”

“He was behind the hit, not the phone call.”

“Oh, right. My arrival was a shock. I showed up, and you had to scrub plan A.” She gestured with helplessness. “We’re back to where we started. I don’t know who called or why he sent me to that bar.”

He didn’t react for the longest time. Eventually he shrugged and said, “Okay,” but his flippancy suggested that it wasn’t at all okay.

“You’ve got to believe me!”

“I said okay.” Methodically he removed the battery from her phone before putting both in his front pocket. Encircling her biceps with his hand, he pulled her up off the crate and drew her toward the door. “It’s starting to rain. You need to go outside while you can.”

“Please, listen, I—”

“I was listening.”

“But I don’t think you believe me. Do you?”

When they reached the door, he pushed it open, then stood there, his breathing hard, his fingers growing steadily tighter around her arm.

“I’m not lying, I swear.”