“I don’t know how you can think about that in the midst of everything else that’s going on.”
“Honestly? Neither can I. Except that it’s just so important to me, and I feel like my clock is ticking.”
“We’ve been through this before.”
“I know. I feel like I’m being selfish. I’m putting my needs before everything else. Before yours. Before Brock’s. Before our family’s. I mean, Mom and Dad’s livelihood just got destroyed in a fire, and I’m thinking about bringing another mouth to feed into the house.”
Callie says nothing. I can’t blame her. What can she say? Only that I’m right, and she knows it.
A few moments pass, and then Callie speaks.
“There’s nothing we can do about it now. You may be pregnant, and if that’s the case, we’ll deal with it. No use worrying, so I’m going to change the subject.”
“God, please do.”
“I’ve been thinking. If Pat still has those photos of me in his possession, we can get him on child porn charges. He doesn’t actually have to post them. Just to have them in his possession is illegal.”
“Cal… We have them in our possession.”
“I know. We need to destroy the ones of me.”
“And we don’t need to destroy the ones of me?”
“We’ll destroy all of them. Obviously. But I think we should get them fingerprinted first. See if we can find anything.”
“No. I don’t want to do that.”
“What if we find Lamone’s fingerprints on them?”
“We’ll also find yours, mine, and Jesse’s.”
“Yeah, but if we tell the fingerprint guy how we got them, that they’re not ours—”
“Callie, for a would-be lawyer, you’re missing an important point.”
She sighs. “You’re right, of course. We’ll destroy them.”
“Good. Let’s do it today.”
“I have to get to work,” she says.
“Tonight, then.”
She nods. “Tonight it is.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Brock
Jackhammer headache. I’m not unfamiliar with it.
Man, I know better than to drink tequila. That liquid fire gets me drunk to the point I don’t give a shit about whatever was bothering me, but I also pay for it in the morning.
It didn’t even work this time. Seven shots, and I still couldn’t get Rory off my mind.
And God, am I paying for it now.
I have vague recollections of the evening after I drank the tequila. Calling Rory. Dropping the phone. Throwing up. Falling. Sleeping on the kitchen floor.
Then Rory. Sweet Rory coming to my rescue. Throwing me into the shower and forcing me to brush my teeth.
Because of Rory, I’m not going to retch this morning because of the way my mouth tastes.
It still tastes pretty bad, though.
Tequila is not friendly.
It’s eight o’clock. I have another vague recollection of my alarm going off at five and then throwing my phone across the room.
Yup, sure enough, there it is next to the wall. Along with a dent. Between putting my fist through Dad’s office wall and now this? I’ll be doing chores around the house as soon as I can find the time.
Damn, damn, damn.
On top of that? Dad’s going to have my ass for not showing up to work on time.
Normally I’d care, but I’m so damned pissed at him.
Our conversation goes through my head again.
Someone tried to kill my mother. When? I’m not sure. Twenty-five years ago, when all this other stuff went down.
And now… It seems to be happening again.
Someone tried to kill Uncle Talon with the bullet that may have been meant for my father.
Tequila shots—despite the hammering in my brain—still look pretty good.
But I won’t go there.
I need coffee. I need another shower. I need to brush my teeth again and again.
And then…
I’m not sure. I guess I’m going to Wyoming to visit those other GPS sites. And I guess I’m going to take my father with me.
Turns out Dad didn’t go out on the grounds today either. He’s in his office when I hand him the GPS coordinates.
Then my phone buzzes.
My heart leaps. Rory.
Except it’s not Rory. It’s a number I don’t recognize.
“Brock Steel,” I say into the phone.
“Yeah, Mr. Steel. It’s Janine. J-Janine Murray.”
“Who?”
“The nurse. From Mr. Steel’s case.”
Right. Damn. The nurse who Donny and I met with a week ago. The one who poisoned Uncle Talon with atropine that was provided to her by way of her baby’s diaper. Could this get any more fucked up?
“I’m sorry. Can I help you with something?”
“Yeah, I tried to call the other Mr. Steel, but he didn’t answer.”
“Donny?”
“Yeah, Donny. He didn’t answer, so I called you. You gave me your number.”
“Right.” Man, is my mind fuzzy this morning.
“I’m frightened.”
“Did you call Monarch? Get round-the-clock security?”
“I did. But that person. He contacted me again.”
I nearly drop the phone. “What? When?”
“Sometime overnight. I found the voicemail this morning.”
“Do you have security installed?”
“Yeah. It was installed late last week. Plus there’s a guy in a car watching my mother and the baby at all times in the house, sent by Monarch.”