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Damian darts to the side of the house while I duck behind a backyard shed, drawing my pistol. Henry shoots once, clumsily, I might add, and runs off. I’m determined not to let him get away. I’m in pursuit when out of nowhere, Damian tackles the guy, bringing him down to the ground.
Seconds later, the cuffs are on and I’m picking up the gun as evidence. Whether he’s involved with Cameron or not, this guy’s heading back to the pen. Damian drags him up to his feet, and that’s when I get a good look at the guy. He’s a user. He’s high, and he’s disheveled. The stench is awful, like he hasn’t bathed since he’s been out.
“You can thank your old friend Cameron for your ride back to jail,” I tell him.
“I ain’t saying nothing,” he spits out, with actual spittle spraying out of his mouth. Christ, this makes me wonder what happened in this man’s life to make him take the turn he did.
“Well, now we know you have something that needs to be said,” I say. He looks at me, bewildered, clearly realizing that he’s been found out.
* * *
While Damian is processingHenry and putting him in a holding cell, I decide to check in with Mason.
“Hey, man. How’s my girl?” I ask.
“She’s good. You’re a lucky man. Sabrina’s too sweet. Big heart, that girl,” Mason says, dropping his tone. I hear him take a few steps away. “How are things on your end?”
“Zeke found a recently paroled con, and his tip paid off. Guy took off as soon as he saw us. He took a shot too, which means he’s heading back inside. He’s so wasted that he let it slip that he knows more. We’re letting him stew for a bit before we go back in to question him.”
“Right on. That’s good news,” Mason says.
I see Caleb coming in the door. He gives me a stare that means he wants to talk to me. “Got to go. Caleb just got back.”
“Later,” Mason says, but I’m already walking toward Caleb. As I get closer, he leads me to his office and shuts the door behind me. Definitely not a good sign.
“What is it?” I ask. I hate waiting and not knowing. I’ve always been that way. Even as a kid, I would ask a million questions and want to know answers.
“Good news and bad news.”
“Bad first,” I say. That way, it can only go up from there.
“That pissant Cameron is a nasty piece of work, and he’s not talking, but I know deep in my gut he’s got someone on the outside and he’s planning revenge.”
“We caught a guy we believe is involved,” I say.
“Zeke filled me in on the way back. But it’s bigger. This guy better talk, because Cameron won’t.”
“What’s the good news?” I can clearly use some about now.
“Cameron’s got another two years tacked onto his sentence with the death threats. The warden has him in solitary confinement at the moment. He’s also personally doing a deep search of his cell. Whatever he finds, he’s hand delivering here,” Caleb says. He senses my anger and grasps my shoulder. “We’ve got this. It’s all unraveling for them. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Yeah, I know.” I say it, but all I can think about is Sabrina and hope she can hold it together that long. How much can one person take? Caleb’s phone rings. He snaps it up.
“Where was it?” Caleb asks the caller. “No fucking kidding.” Then I hear the mumbled voice on the other end. Caleb picks up a pen. “Give it to me.” He jots down a phone number. “Mr. Black? You sure about that?” There’s a pause before he says, “Got it. Oh yeah, I’ll be in touch. I plan on having that fucker rot in that cell. Thanks for getting on that so fast and sending over the rest.”
“What?”
“The guards found a note with the name Mr. Black and this number.” He holds up the number he copied down.
Zeke bursts through the door without knocking and sees the paper Caleb is holding up. His surprise is obvious. “Do you know what that is?” he asks us, moving his gaze between the two of us.
“Not yet,” I say. “Are you going to tell me?”
“It’s the same number Cameron’s been calling for the past month. The only other number he called besides Sabrina’s that day,” he tells us.
“Who does it belong to?” I ask.
“Mr. Black.”
