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The man didn’t even like ice cream.
“That might be his only flaw,” I admitted to myself.
“What was that?”
I squeaked and twisted, my eyes wide, as the man I was just thinking about suddenly appeared.
I was halfway between his food trailer and our bus and had been heading for him.
Seems like we’d both had the same idea.
“Shit, Coffey.” I placed a hand over my heart. “The sheriff broke out and is probably heading straight for us, and you scare me half to death?”
His face lost its amusement as he said, “Repeat that?”
I gave him everything that Folsom had just shared with me.
“Fuck.” He narrowed his eyes. “So are we going off the fact that he’s in the sheriff’s vehicle or a different one?”
I shook my head as I said, “I don’t know.”
“Let’s go,” he caught my hand and led me back to the bus. “Maybe she’s still on the phone.”
She was.
And she was talking about things that Coffey hadn’t shared with me yet.
“…has an excellent 401(k), has about seven mil in the bank, and just because he’s a contract killer, doesn’t make him sensitive, okay?” Folsom was heard saying.
I froze, my eyes wide.
The man holding my hand paused, then turned and said, “I can explain everything.”
I waved him away. “Time for that is later. I know you have a past, Coffey. I’m more than aware you did some not-very-savory things. But that’s also not going to color my opinion of the man that I know now.”
He sighed and pressed his hand into his forehead. “I was going to tell you.”
“I know,” I said.
“It’s just not something that I talk about easily. I truly hate that part of me, and it’s not something that I want to revisit ever.” He paused. “I heard there was a file on me.”
I nodded.
“If you ask Folsom for it again…will you read it?” he asked, sounding, for once, very unsure.
I blinked at him, feeling my stomach drop out. If he couldn’t even talk about it…how bad was it?
“At this point, it sounds like that might be the easier situation,” he let go of my hand to press his hand against his chest and rub. As if there was a physical ache there at the remembrance of what he’d once done. “I’ll answer any and all questions you have... if you have any.”
I nodded. “I can do that.”
If it was what he wanted, I could do anything.
“I can get you a new one,” Folsom called.
I blinked and turned to find them once again, all standing there, listening to every word we said.
“When you do that,” Coffey said. “Send me everything you have on Sheriff Bright. I want to know where he went to school in elementary.”
Folsom snickered. “It’s very nice to finally meet you, Coffey.”
“I’d say it’s nice to meet you,” Coffey said. “But I’m not quite sure if it is.”
Folsom laughed.
“I would also like to know what everyone is tracking Bright on,” I said. “Does he have his phone? What about the LoJack on the company cruiser? Do we know if he stole a vehicle? Does he have access to his bank account? Logically, I know that the man probably knows what not to do and what to do to get tracked. So if he’s working on all brainpower, he’s not just going to announce that he’s headed this way.”
“He took nothing,” Folsom said. “I’ve been trying to find the vehicle since he left the hospital, but other than that first probably three minutes it took for him to drive out of town, park, and then disable the LoJack, I haven’t been able to find him since. Though he did steal a nurse’s wallet, at least we think it’s him. He withdrew five hundred dollars at the first ATM he came to about five minutes outside of the hospital. He could get pretty much anywhere he wants off of five hundred dollars and a stolen vehicle. Though, by now, he’s for sure switched from the cruiser. That’s too easy to spot.”
“That would be my thought process as well,” Coffey muttered. “Did he have the chick’s pin number or something? That’s generally a thing you can’t do—withdraw cash—without that. At least not easily.”
“She said it was a brand-new card, and she had the pin number stupidly written on a Post-It note on the front of it,” Folsom explained.
“Sounds like possibly she’s too naive to be owning a debit card if it’s a new one,” I heard Val mutter. “But also, probably, she shouldn’t be a nurse, either, if she can’t even manage to handle a debit card.”
I, for once, agreed with Val.
This woman sounded kind of airhead-esque.
“By my best guess, if he were to be heading this way, it would take him at least four hours,” Keene said. “Though I think we need to prepare, I also hate to admit this, but we still have a job to do. One that has already started. Val, go. You’re late for your booth. Simi, if you’re okay with it, I can have Melinda tag along behind you.”
