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I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could do this alone, but I couldn’t get help until I found a phone to call someone, not that I had any numbers memorized.
Where was Malcolm?
I walked back to my car, got inside, and waited.
Who was I going to call? Louise and the sheriff’s department? The old warehouse was outside of Jackson Creek’s jurisdiction. Malcolm had no vested interest in this anymore if he’d been cleared of Eddie Johnson’s murder. Which meant maybe he wasn’t coming after all.
Was it wrong that I wanted him to show up anyway?
I didn’t get a chance to decide because seconds later a motorcycle roared its way into the parking lot. Malcolm parked behind my car, blocking me in. He turned off the engine and got off, then stalked over and opened my car door. “Get out.”
“Fuck off,” I snapped. “You can’t tell me what to do, Malcolm.”
“Only slightly more mature than you’re not the boss of me,” he said, reaching in and snatching my key fob out of the cup holder. “You can’t drive after four drinks in less than a half hour.”
“Maybe tell that to Petey the bodyguard and baldy at the door.”
“Ajax?”
“You can’t be serious,” I said with a bitter laugh. “His name is Ajax?” I shook my head. “Never mind, they kicked me out and I dropped my phone and broke it. I was trying to figure out what to do next.”
A deep scowl covered his face, but he didn’t call me a liar.
I got out and tossed the paper and the photo at him. “I got another love note. Two, actually. The photo after I talked to the chief. The instructions after I left the bar.”
He grabbed the note as it started to fall to the ground, then studied the photo. His gaze jerked up. “Have you told anyone about this?”
“You mean like the sheriff or the police?” I asked sarcastically. “I told Louise about the photo because I was talking to her when I found it. But the note about the showdown? No. And for what it’s worth, you were one of only two people on my call list, although in hindsight, I should have probably considered adding Hale.”
“So what was your plan?” he asked, holding out the paper.
I snatched it from him. “I may be drunk, but I’m not drunk enough to think I can really show up there on my own.”
He grunted.
“So let me guess,” I said. “You already have a plan.”
“No,” he said with a frown. “But I’ll come up with one.” He motioned to the other side of the car. “Get in.”
“What about your bike?” I asked, but he was already making a call.
“Ajax, get your ass out here in the parking lot,” he growled, then hung up before Ajax had a chance to respond.
Seconds later, the big bald man stalked toward us, glancing between me and Malcolm.
“First,” Malcolm said in a deadly calm voice. “You will apologize to Detective Adams. You compromised her safety by kicking her out into a dark parking lot with a dead phone and blood alcohol over the legal limit.”
Fear and anger vacillated over his face. “Petey said he kicked her out. He told me not to let her back in.”
“Why?”
Ajax swallowed. “He said she was lookin’ for you.”
Malcolm was quiet so long even I was becoming anxious. Finally, he said, “If Detective Adams is looking for me, you let me know. Is that clear?”
His eyes widened. “Yes, sir.”
“And you sure as hell better not be kicking any other women out into the parking lot by themselves, especially after a body was found out back less than twenty-four hours ago. The last thing we need is a rape, murder, or assault to occur out here. We have a reputation to maintain.”
