By the time I was done, she looked angry and scared.
“That man never leaves me alone,” she groaned, but her face went serious a moment later. “But something that doesn’t make sense…Errol wouldn’t have let us know that he was here. He would’ve only shown his face when he was ready. He was into dog fighting back home, sure, but he was never caught. Everyone just knew he was in to it. Mackey told me when we found out that I was pregnant that Errol only liked the betting aspect. That was why he quit the CIA. They gave him an ultimatum: quit gambling or find a new job.” She grew more serious. “He wouldn’t have been stupid enough to use credit cards that could trace him back to here. Plus, when he was done with that trial and given community service and parole, the Dixie Wardens took his patch. How would he have gotten another one? Did this Holly person give a sketch of what this man looked like?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure she saw him all that well. It was dark, but he was wearing a Dixie Wardens cut. That was why we knew where to start looking. Though, our national club president, Silas, was the one to come back with the information. Apollo, our computer nerd friend, only confirmed it by finding his credit card records and seeing that he was checked into one of the resorts in town.”
She was already shaking her head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s here, Odin. But whoever your friend saw? That wasn’t Errol. He’s very good. Better than anyone you could ever imagine. And he’s extremely paranoid. He would’ve known that your friend was there and known that there were people looking for her. He would’ve never been caught dead somewhere that could get him discovered.”
That was the same thing I’d been thinking when Apollo had originally shared all this information with me.
Something wasn’t right here, and I had a feeling Constance was right in the middle of it.
Twelve
Angry masturbation isn’t as fun as angry sex.
—Constance’s secret thoughts
Constance
I slept fitfully the night before, my brain turned up to eleven.
But the more time that I spent thinking about what Odin had shared, the more I realized that whatever they thought was happening wasn’t.
I mean, sure, it was possible that Errol was here.
But the Errol that I knew wouldn’t have been caught using his actual name in a place where he was doing illegal things.
And like I’d told Odin last night, Errol was smart. He’d gotten out of going to jail for beating Mackey to within an inch of his life. There’d been camera footage, he’d done it in public in front of several witnesses, and he’d admitted to it.
He’d still gotten off with probation.
The man was insanely smart, vindictive, and sneaky.
What he was not was stupid.
If he was here, we wouldn’t know.
Which meant only one thing to me.
Someone was here impersonating Errol.
That was the only viable excuse to what was going on.
Plus, I would know if he was here.
Errol left calling cards.
I may not see him, but he wouldn’t be able to resist leaving me what he called “presents.”
And honestly, the things that he left me could be considered presents to most women. Purses. Jewelry. Chocolate. Food from my favorite places.
But to me, it was terrifying. Because I’d never told him that I liked chocolate. I’d never shared with him that I liked gold jewelry over silver. I’d never shared where my favorite places to eat were.
Yet, he knew it all.
But I hadn’t gotten anything from him since I’d moved here.
Hell, I hadn’t gotten anything from him since his trial had concluded.
