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“I can’t.”
Stepping through, she shuts the door behind her and comes to stand behind the chairs in front of Julia’s desk.
“Still waiting?”
“Yeah.”
“It will come. But in the meantime, try to eat something.”
My indifferent shrug earns me a silent reprimand.
“Can I wait with you?” She makes her way to the plush chair across from me and sits. We wait for the call to come in silence.
My whole body is vibrating in anticipation. Knowing you’re able to take action and taking those steps are two very different things. My body knows the difference. With the first, I’m on edge, and everything still feels out of control. But the second momentum starts, the anxiety falls away. The initial push is the hardest part. Inertia and all that.
When the phone rings, my whole world stands still. I reach for it.
It’s a blocked number.
Rosie looks at me meaningfully as I answer.
“Hello?”
As expected, the address they provide is outside the city in the middle of nowhere. We immediately jump into the provided unmarked car and drive for what feels like hours. Though it surely can’t be since we haven’t passed a Buc-ee’s yet.
Driving through the wilderness and dirt roads of Texas is different than you would imagine. Everything is so flat it doesn’t feel ominous in the way a thick forest might. Instead, you can see for such a distance in the dim moonlight, and everything feels massive. You start to feel so small and insignificant. The sheer scale of everything makes it terrifying.
Driving towards a dilapidated barn in the middle of nowhere doesn’t help with the unease I feel.
“Rosie, you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to. I can do this myself. You can stay in the car. Or better yet, leave. I’ll drive you back even,” I say.
“Jay Bird, she’s my friend too. I’m good right here.”
“Okay, but you know this isn’t going to be pretty.”
An unfortunate truth. But from the little we learned about John Higley from the police report Rosie got her hands on by flirting with a cop who came into the club, it seems the man never made a good decision in his young life. Everything he’s involved in has at least a few shady characters or dealings attached. He has several arrests. Yet before he’s dragged into a courtroom, everything disappears. Never a good sign.
A part of me is scared of what might happen next. Anyone would be an idiot not to be a little scared. But mostly I am afraid of how this will change me. Will it change how Julia sees me? Will she love me if she learns the lengths I will go to for her?
These are the questions haunting me as Rosie and I get out of the car.
The barn is dimly lit with only a few flickering bulbs. Walking farther in, we finally see him. He’s tied up and slumped over in a chair underneath a single light, looking a little worse for wear than when I’d seen him outside the bar. Looks like someone already roughed him up a bit. I guess Rosie’s new friends felt the need to help us out. A courtesy, really.
I look around the room and take in the space around us, noticing the complete set of tools off to the side. My fingers twitch eagerly. Walking over, my eyes widen as I take in each piece lying on the table.
Evidently, our questionnaire told them we needed everything under the sun.
Sure, I have no experience in this kind of thing. Even without it, there’s a deeply buried and long unacknowledged part of me that craves the violence and bloodshed that awaits. I pick up a pair of pliers, and calm settles upon me. It feels right to be holding these. To be here for this specific task.
“Rosie, is there a bucket anywhere?”
“Not sure. I’ll look around.”
“If you find one, fill it up with water.”
I look down at the pliers in my hand, and a peace settles over me. I’m not doing this for myself, but I relish how capable I feel with these tools.
Turning on my boot heel, I face a soon-to-be dead man.
