One to Save (One to Hold 6)
We love you more. Want us to stop by the office?
No. We’ll talk tonight. Be safe, okay?
This is Wilmington, babe. We’re good.
I exhale deeply. I can’t believe some new asshole is threatening my family. He’d better be ready for the hell he’s inviting.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the establishment. A few pool tables are situated in the back corner, and the usual cast of regulars in their faded jeans, leather vests, and bandanas are stationed around t
he center bar.
Lylah, the other Amy-Winehouse-looking waitress, is hanging on the polished wood separating them laughing and talking trash. It’s just after noon on a Tuesday.
We slide into a wooden booth and she calls back over her shoulder. “Toni! Got a couple of regulars in your section.”
Toni, a.k.a., “Star,” walks out, and I’m surprised to see she hasn’t changed her look since the last time we saw her. Instead of the blood-red lipstick, jet-black hair, and white tank showing off her matching sleeve tattoos, she’s wearing a navy shirt-dress and leopard print cardigan. Her hair is smooth and hanging down her back in chestnut waves, and while she still has the cat-eye makeup, her lips are a pale shade of glossy pink. She’s a ringer for Melissa. It’s the look we used to trap Sloan. The only thing missing is my fiancée’s sapphire-blue eyes.
“Thanks for driving up,” she says in her low smoker’s voice. “I know it’s a haul, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
“No worries, girl,” Patrick steps forward and kisses her cheek. “You look great. How’s school treating you?”
She slips in across from us and picks up a cardboard coaster. Lylah appears smacking gum and looking every bit the biker chick with her side ponytail, short shorts and tight tank. She’s still sporting the look—Priscilla Presley hair and red-velvet lips.
“What can I get you fellas today? The usual?”
“You bet.” Patrick drops a twenty on her tray. “And a little privacy.”
Lylah’s eyebrows rise. “When have I ever been a concern?”
Star cuts in. “Just get us the drinks, Lyle.”
Her friend spins around and swings her hips back to the center of the room. I turn my attention to the woman in front of us. “Show us what you’ve got.”
Her dark-brown eyes flicker slowly over mine, and her face flushes. I don’t know what that’s about, but she reaches into her sweater pocket. The letter is folded into a small square, and we watch as she spreads it open on the table then hands it to me.
Ms. Durango,
If you follow my instructions, your daughter will be safe, and you can return to your normal life. If you involve the authorities in any way, be sure my offer is null and void. I will make good on my threats.
You have one task: Let the big guy know I’m coming for him. Let him know if he tries to run or retaliate in any way, you and your daughter will suffer for his crimes.
It’s time to pay up, and revenge is a dish best served cold.
Signed,
A Friend
Anger fires in my chest at the nerve of this fucker. “This is about money.”
Star’s voice is soft. “It says revenge. And crimes.”
She’s looking pointedly at me like all that bullshit means anything. I’m ready to punch whoever this is in the face for harassing a mother and her child.
“It doesn’t make any damn sense,” Patrick interrupts. “I thought Sloan didn’t have any family left.”
“His parents died years ago,” I say. “Melissa was his only wife as far as I know, and they never had children.”
Leaning back in the seat, I try to think. “My job is putting criminals behind bars or turning bad guys over to the cops. It could be anybody.”