“I know.”
He's quiet for a second.
“Don't do anything that puts you back in a police report, Maddox. I can't fix that one.”
“I'm not going to touch anybody, Harlan. I'm going to stand on a lawn.”
A horn sounds behind him. He ignores it.
“Stand on a lawn. Copy. I'll keep the notary on call. Your flight is seven-ten tomorrow out of Frosthaven. Do not miss it.”
“I won't.”
He hangs up.
I sit on the counter and look at the papers he emails me and I read every line of a contract for a twenty-year-old I have no legal right to sign anything on behalf of, and my hands are steady, and I think,okay. Now.
Phoenix gets home at five.
He takes one look at me and nods.
“We’ll take my truck. Mine's less recognized than yours. I'll drop you and circle the block.”
“Phoenix…”
“No. Not alone. Not tonight. I'm circling and if it goes bad I'm pulling you out. Don't argue.”
I don't argue.
Theo's house is dark out front and lit in the back.
Phoenix pulls up the block and puts it in neutral and nods at the house.
“One guard. Polo. Clipboard. Same guy from last night?”
“Different guy.”
The one on the lawn is leaner, younger. Buzz cut. Earpiece. Callahan's brand, not a Laurent-family hire. I figured. Paul probably called off his once he cooled down. Callahan put one on to keep his Monday press release clean. I file it then let it stop mattering.
“I'll walk.”
“Maddox.”
I look at him.
“The kid,” Phoenix says. His jaw is going. “You get him or you don't. Either way I'm thirty seconds away.”
“Yeah.”
“Go.”
I get out.
The walk from the curb to the lawn is twelve feet.
The lawn is brown at the edges, winter-dead, a few patches of old snow still stuck along the cedar hedge. The porch light is on. Paul's Audi is in the driveway. A second car, red, hatchback, bumper sticker with a turtle on it, is in the driveway behind Paul's. Diane's. Good.
The guard clocks me at about ten feet out.
