Page 46 of The Triangle

“Me,” I snarl.

“Well, that’s a new look for you. The Danny Fortnight I knew was a bargain.”

Christine sighs. “Do we have to do this now? I have a headache.”

“Uh, yeah,” I say. “Because he’s the whole reason you have a headache.”

She turns away from me, shutting me out. Alec reaches over and places a hand on her leg. “Nunu, are the details of what happened fuzzy?”

“A little.” She shrugs. “I mean, not like they were yesterday. I was coming off the sedation drugs or something. Somebody sedated me, right?”

“I presume so,” Alec says, taking a right turn off the main road. If you can call this narrow path a main road, that is. “You did take a tumble. But we got you fixed up OK, yeah?”

I watch him squeeze her leg, fuming with anger.

“I don’t remember what happened. Where was I?”

Alec withdraws his hand and places it back on the steering wheel to navigate the even narrower, even less traveled mountain road.

I watch him formulate his answer in the rearview. His eyes dart to mine, then away just as fast. He’s about to lie, but what else is new?

“You know what?” I say. “I’m not in the mood for the fairy tale you’re about to spin. So save it. With any luck Christine and I will be on our way soon. Twenty-four hours from now you’ll just be a bad taste in our mouths.”

“What?” Christine says.

“You can’t leave,” Alec says. “Not until we’re all safe.”

“I can take care of Christine.”

Alec slams on the brakes, stopping in the middle of the road—pulling on the e-brake for effect—and then turns in his seat to look me in the eyes. “You can’t even take care of yourself, Fortnight. You’re the reason she’s in this mess, not me.”

I laugh so loud, Christine turns in her seat too. “No,” I say. “This has ‘evil Alec van den Berg plan’ written all over it. Who did you send her to kill? I want a name.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then how the fuck did you know she needed help? How the fuck did you know to call me to go save her?”

“I didn’t need saving,” Christine protests. “Jesus Christ. Fucking men.”

“You didn’t need saving?” I blurt. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“I was fine. I was safe. I was—”

“You didn’t even know who you were, Christine!”

“And my memory came back, OK? So drop it.”

“I’ll drop it when he fills in the missing pieces. Who did she kill, Alec?” And then I make a decision. I take a stand. Because the gun in my pocket is pressed up to Alec’s forehead. Right between his eyes. “Who. The fuck. Did you send her to kill?”

“Fucking Danny!” Christine screams.

But I just press the barrel of my gun into his skin harder. “Answer me. Or I’m gonna fuck up the interior of this Range Rover with your bloody brains and then bill your estate for the detailing job it’ll need afterward.”

“You were always so dramatic, Danny.”

“Answer me.”

“Fine,” he says, pushing the gun away from his head and looking at Christine. “It was an oke named Jimmy, OK? Jimmy Sotoro. He stole from me and—”