“I was hired to.”
“By who?”
“None of your business.”
“He doesn’t have his phone?”
“No, genius. He doesn’t have his phone. He hasn’t had it for two weeks.”
“You gotta tell us when you find him,” he said.
“I do, huh?” I took a few steps closer, the gun still pointed at his crotch.
“Fuck.” He started to tremble.
I walked up to him and plucked his gun from the pavement. I dropped it in my purse.
“That’s…That’smine.” He said it like a two-year-old on the cusp of a temper tantrum.
I stood up and resumed my stance. “Here’s what I’m going to do,” I said. “I’m going to get in my car and drive away. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re not going to follow me.”
“What about my gun?” he said.
“I’ll give it to Desmond. If he thinks you deserve it, I’m sure you can have it back.” I offered up a cheery smile.
He said something I couldn’t hear. I could tell it wasn’t very nice. I turned and shot out one of his tires. “Watch the way you talk to a lady.”
His face reddened. “What the…”
“You’re lucky it’s just a tire.”
I held my gun on him as I eased into my car and closed the door. I kept it aimed at him when I started it up and drove away. It wasn’t until I was back in traffic again on Soldiers Field Drive, and both guns were safely in my purse, that I was finally able to start breathing.
Twenty
“I shouldn’t have put off the judo lesson,” Spike said.
“Hey, the gun worked out pretty well for me,” I said.
“I know, but knowing a martial art is a good backup if your gun jams or you run out of ammo,” he said. “Plus, it gives you confidence. Big-dick energy.”
“I’ve already got that,” I said.
“Yeah, you do,” Spike said.
It was late, and we were at my place, finishing our second glasses of wine. Spike had been the first person I called once I got home and fed Rosie. Not Richie, because I knew how he’d react. And when I’d told Spike everything that had happened to me today, he’d done exactly what I’d expected him to do. He’d listened without judgment. Without saying anythingreally, exceptCome to the restaurant. Bring Rosie. Dinner’s on me.
It was only then that I’d realized how exhausted I was, physically and emotionally. I’d told Spike I couldn’t imagine anything worse than leaving my apartment again. And again, as ever, he understood. Since it had been a slow evening at the restaurant (Mondays always were), he’d stayed just one more hour and tasked his manager with handling the rest of the night and closing up. Then he’d headed over to my place, with three bottles of his best cabernet and a soup bone for Rosie.
I didn’t deserve Spike. Lucky for me, he didn’t seem to know that.
“So let me get this straight,” Spike said. “You got a text today from this chemist guy…”
“Actually, it was Dylan Welch who got the text.”
“Dylan Welch. Who has been missing for two weeks. Without his phone. He’s somehow arranged to meet with this chemist today at the Gonzo factory, which is closed. And a couple hours after texting Welch, asking where he is, the chemist is found dead.”
“Yes.”
