“Me neither,” said Marco.
But Teddy and Mick knew that name. He was Cleo’s old man for several years. “Do we bring him in dead or alive, Pop?” Teddy asked him.
“Alive,” said Mick. “At all costs, alive. I want to hear his side of the story too.”
But Sal could tell there was something more. “What aren’t you telling us?” he asked Mick.
Mick exhaled. “I got a note.”
“From who?”
“I don’t know.”
Now Teddy was worried. “What did it say, Pop?”
Mick pulled out the note and handed it to Teddy. He, Sal, Marco, and Robby read the note. Then Teddy looked at Mick. “He knows what you did? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“And it was signed Your Past,” said Sal. “What that mean?”
Mick exhaled again. “I have no idea.” He took the note from Teddy. “But I keep feeling like it has something to do with Cleo’s disappearance. I don’t know why, but I feel it.”
“Maybe we should twist her arm a little more,” said Teddy. “Maybe she knows more than she’s telling us.”
But Mick shook his head. “She’s not at the center of whatever’s going on. She wouldn’t know any more than we do. But Ricardo might. That’s why I want his ass alive.”
Teddy. “And that’s how you’ll get him,” he said.
Mick nodded, and then he walked to his SUV, got in, and took off.
They all looked at Sal. “Wonder who would send Big Pop a note like that, Uncle Sal?” Marco asked.
“Hell if I know.”
“And what does Cleo have over Pop, Uncle Sal?” Teddy asked.
“What you meanoverhim? He loves her,” Sal said. “Ever heard of that?” Then he thumped Robby on his stomach. “Let’s get out of here. I got some business to take care of.” And they left too.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ninety minutes outside of Philadelphia, as Roz was driving through a small town she’d never even heard of before, she was being pulled over by the local police.
Not that they didn’t have a reason. She was speeding. They had a reason. With her car’s convertible top down and her macchiato-beige bucket seats with the matching steering wheel and gear shift sparkling in the Pennsylvania sun, with her sunglasses over her eyes to shield that sun, she was on her own time and was taking it fast or slow, however she felt. But damn. She didn’t see any cops until they were right behind her with their sirens blaring. Where did they come from? But she pulled her Maybach over to the side of the road all the same.
Two white, youngish-looking cops got out. What was strange to Roz was that they both walked over to her driver side door. Usually one was on the passenger side as a just in case. But not with these hicks. Did they know what they were doing? She only hoped they would give her a warning to slow her ass down, and let her go.
But she quickly realized how wishful she was thinking. “Please step out ma’am,” the taller officer said.
Now Roz was immediately suspicious. “For a speeding ticket? Why would I have to step out of my car? Just give me the ticket.”
The shorter one grabbed her doorknob, but it was locked. “We said step out!” he demanded and tried to reach into her car to find the lock to pull it up.
But it didn’t have those kinds of locks. And Roz was too stunned. “What am I supposed to have done, Officers?”
“Ma’am, if you don’t get out of this car I’m going to drag you out.”
Now Roz was frowned too. “But what did I do? At least tell me that.”
“This car is stolen,” the shorter cop said.
