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“I pulled off at the Gas ’N’ Sip and called Sheriff Dooley. Told him the compound was gonna be in trouble. That Dustin’s guys were headed over there. But that we were gone for good. I just wanted to make sure he got there first, to head them off.”
“That's pretty good thinking there,” I have to admit.
“Whoa, a compliment? From you? Wow.”
“Oh, give it a rest, Owen. Don’t you get enough affirmation in your life?”
“Hey, Angel, maybe you need to write this down. On this day, Silas acknowledged that I can do something useful with my life!” Owen crows.
Angel chuckles deep in her chest, slapping us each lightly on our legs. “Yeah, I guess you guys really are brothers after all, huh? You sure bicker like brothers.”
“So anyway,” Owen continues, “I had a feeling that Melissa had some kind of thing going with the Sheriff. I had seen her a couple of times sneaking around in the middle of the night, going to meet somebody. And once, I saw his lights come on his cruiser when
he went to go to a call. Sort of put two and two together.”
“Mama? Was going out to meet somebody?” Angel wonders aloud. “That’s… amazing. I never even suspected.”
“Don't you ever sleep?” I ask.
“Wow, Silas, you really think you're the only one who cares about the Family, don't you?”
I shift uncomfortably. Maybe he’s got a point. Maybe I haven't always relied on him like I should, or given him the respect he deserves. He may have just saved everyone’s bacon tonight.
“Well, I hope he still has a few more brilliant ideas,” I say, shaking my head. “I only picked up about six hundred dollars at the bar, and that is not going to get us very far.”
“Yeah, you're probably right,” he sighs. He hauls himself off the mattress and walks back to the door in the darkness, stretching and yawning. He pulls off his shirt and folds it neatly on the dresser before picking up the satchel next to his boots.
“I got what I could out of your desk drawer —”
“— my what?”
“Oh, you know, the fake desk drawer bottom you don't think anybody knows about? Yeah. I found it. I got all the crap out of there.”
“Well that's good, I guess. Thank you?”
“Yeah, you should be thanking me,” he quips. “I left the deed for Melissa and took the money and other goodies, and then another envelope of papers —”
“Show me that envelope!”
With a sigh, he stuffs his hand into the satchel and pulls out an envelope. The paper is brown and brittle, stained with mysterious splotches from maybe coffee cups or other sources of moisture.
I flip open the metal tab and plunge my hand inside, drawing out the sheaf of papers. Birth certificates, that sort of thing. Not for Angel, but for me and Owen. I have to figure out how to get Angel an ID and that sort of thing some other time.
But in with the papers, there’s a set of house keys. And another deed.
“Are you the only person who knows about the drawer?” I ask him slowly.
He shrugs, scratching sleepily at the hair that covers his belly.
“Yeah, probably. Not like anybody else would ever dare go through your stuff, Silas.”
“And how do you feel about LA?”
Owen raises his eyebrows at me. Angel shifts, raising her chin to stare at me and blinking, wide-eyed.
“What is an LA?”
“Los Angeles, baby,” I tell her softly. “The city of Angels. You want to go?”
