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“What’s with all the questions? I’ve got a little free time and want to spend some with my nephew while I can.” I leaned on the reception desk. “You know as well as I do, the privilege could disappear at any moment.”
“I can’t believe she stood me up.”
“It’s my fault. And believe me, she was none too happy.” Holt gave me a sympathetic look. “No offense, but I hope she takes out the brunt of it on you.”
“Offense taken.” I smirked and reluctantly pushed the stroller toward him. “Tell her to call me.”
“Sure thing, man.” He shifted on his feet.
“Are you sure she’s okay?”
“This is my sister we’re talking about. Who the hell knows?”
I had to concede that point to him. I rapped the desk twice, gave a quick kiss to Blake, and took off.
It had been maybe forty-five minutes since the lunch order texts had started. Holt was a shit liar.
I stopped and turned back toward the garage, my gut telling me to go back and get Blake.He doesn’t belong to you.
I pressed my phone to my ear. It rang through to Wicked’s voicemail. I hung up without leaving a message.
It trilled in my hand. I stuffed down the disappointment when I saw it was the reminder of the appointment I had in forty-five minutes. To hell with it. I tried Marlow again. Voicemail once more.
You stood me up. I ate everything.
No dots indicated she was responding to my text. Much as I wanted to, I couldn’t stand there and look at the phone all day.
“Thank you, Mr. Whitley.”The man grasped my hand with both of his.
“Have a seat, Mr. Addis.” I motioned toward the sitting area in my office.
“Call me, Sidney. Please.”
“Would you care for coffee?”
“No, thank you.”
I took one of the two club chairs and nodded toward the one beside it.
“Where is your son?”
“Abraham is in the state penitentiary. Rikers Island.”
“What’s the charge?”
“Kidnapping and first degree murder.” Murder. Always murder. It always shocked me even though I’d been around killers more than I cared to admit.
“Does he know the victim?”
“She lived next door to him. He’s a good boy. He didn’t do this.” Once again this man’s devotion to his son got to me.
“Who is his counsel at the present time?”
“He’s representing himself. The court appointed lawyer did nothing to help him.”
“Has a trial date been set?”
“Three weeks from yesterday.”
