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Which isn’t a lot.
The information-sharing ends in less than a minute, but Bolton seems satisfied.
“Alright,” he drawls, “give me five days and I’ll get back to you with an address.”
“Don’t you think you’re underestimating the task? I did a Google search and couldn’t find any traces of Alexa online.”
“I’m going to do a hell of a lot more than a Google search.”
“That’s a given, but—”
“Rest assured, Harrison. It won’t take me more than a week.”
He sounds confident, which makes me think that hiring him was the right choice.
I’m about to thank him when a door bangs on his end of the line.
“Daddy, I had a bad dream!”
“Alright, butterfly. Just a minute…”
“There was a flying dragon and it spit fire and it tried to barbecue me!”
I smile at the kid’s imaginative descriptions.
Bolton sighs. “I told your brother to stop watchingLord Of The Ringswith you.”
“I’m scared.”
“Just climb in there and I’ll protect you.”
“You have kids?” I say without really thinking it through. I’ve never seen Bolton before but, given the grumpiness in his voice and the shortness of his answers, I imagined that he lived alone. Probably in some underground bunker. With a mahogany log for a bed and a carpet of nails that he walked on every morning.
The other end of the line goes deathly silent.
Then Bolton says warily, “I’ll send the bill when I find her.”
“Go ahead and send me the bill now.”
“After.” He insists. “I’m charging you by our platinum package. Since you want this to stay discreet, it comes with an extra cost.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“Figured it wasn’t. Darrel doesn’t keep broke friends.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
Bolton proves he doesn’t expect an answer because the line goes dead immediately.
Alright then.
I glance at the to-do list and pick up my pen. Now for the best part and, admittedly, the reason why Nova likes writing lists.
With great aplomb, I strike a line through the first task and grin.
Done.
Then I slide my gaze down to the other two tasks and my joy putters out like a cold winter wind snapping out a candle.
