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At my words, his eyes changed ever so slightly. If I wasn't attuned to watching people for signs of lying, I might not have noticed. It was like he knew this wasn't a social call and he no longer had interest in teasing me. "Follow me, then. I'll take you."
We weaved through the tables towards the back of the restaurant. The place was all low lighting, fancy cutlery, white linen tablecloths, and wine lists longer than the menu. I had no qualms about blending in when I needed to, but these days, my work was mostly about being invisible. The less people saw of me, the more I could watch them.
And watch I did. Everything from missing persons cases to helping take down illegal trafficking rings, I'd done it all over the years. It wasn't because I felt some righteous need to make the world a better place. That was a benefit, sure, but it was more that I wanted something to fill my time with Dante's absence. I needed a purpose. Something to protect. Someone to care for.
Each case I worked on gave me that for a time. I could pretend I wasn't a shell of a person, while also helping others get the closure they needed.
"Here we are," Langford said. He pulled open a door to reveal a mostly empty space save for the two men seated at a single table. "This is where I leave you. Best of luck, Preacher. You'll always find an ally in The Kinderson."
Before I could think over his words, Tank was up and moving towards me. I greeted him in a brief hug, then nodded towards a scowling Memphis.
"Welcome, Preacher. I'm so glad you could make it," his voice boomed in the small space.
"I didn't have much choice. This is extortion."
He laughed as if I were making a joke, then he turned to move back to the table.
"Now then, before we get started, I would like to outline a few things. We can do this one of two ways. We can eat and then go over the items, like I originally planned. Or we can talk shop, then eat. Either way, you're getting through an entire meal of small talk."
I shook my head at Tank before looking over at Memphis. I knew the reason he was upset. The man was damn near attached at the hip to his partner, which meant he was very unhappy to not be with him.
"If you tell me the news first, does Memphis get to leave?" The I.T. wizard looked up at my question, his gaze pleading.
Tank shrugged. "Sure. That's fine with me. I don't much care if he stays since the other fuckers bailed on us."
"Deal. Done. I'll tell you everything you need to know," Memphis rushed to speak.
I waved my hand to indicate he should go on. He dove straight into the thick of it. Most of the intel was sparse. They had no clue where Dante went all those years ago, or if he appeared anywhere else during that time. What they did know was that he was back, and he had changed.
"You keep saying he's different now. What the hell does that mean? Did he get face tattoos or grow a third arm? Just fucking say what you mean."
Tank looks from Memphis to me before leaning forward on the table. "I know you tend to hear things in your line of work. Things that might be out of place or new information. Tell me, Preacher. Have you heard anything particularly out of the box lately? Maybe about a certain someone who's popped up in the city in the last few months?"
I paused to think it through. There wasn't much talk about people. Not really. The only thing of significance was —
"The Monster? Are you saying my boy has turned into a goddamn vigilante?" I seethed.
My old friend looked far too smug. I wanted to beat the look off his face. Then maybe throw in a few extra punches for him making this into such a fucking dramatic performance.
"Your boy and The Monster are the same. He has earned himself quite a reputation. In fact, if we trace back chatter about The Monster, we can trace it back a couple of years. Before that, he's a ghost. But from then to now, I could tell you what city he's been in and for about how long."
Thinking over his words, I wondered if it was possibly true. Tank seemed to think so. He claimed as much with tonight's conversation.
Yet my mind couldn't create the connection. It couldn't picture sweet, young Dante as this vicious killing machine the stories had said. Hell, there was a set of victims just a couple of nights ago who were found in an alleyway with their balls chopped off and the words rapist carved in their foreheads.
"How do I find him?" I demanded after shoving those thoughts away. If Dante and The Monster were the same person, then I'd do whatever it took to find him. It shouldn't be too hard given the number of victims The Monster had already racked up. Seems I just needed to prowl at night like he did for a chance of catching him.
Memphis pulled out a photo from his jacket pocket. "First, you'll need to get acquainted with what he looks like now. Based on old photos, the man you knew versus the new one are not the same."
I take the photo, then stare into the eyes I'd recognize anywhere. There's my boy.
Instead of the young version of Dante I loved all those years ago, I found a fierce image of a man I would definitely have passed on the street without realizing. If it weren't for the eyes, I might not have known. The picture is only from the waist up, but even so, I can see the changes clearly. He's packed on loads of muscle. His jaw is more defined, the short beard and mustache making him appear somehow darker. I can tell there's an edge to him even through the picture.
"You're right. I wouldn't have known this was him," I agreed. "What's the second thing to help me find him?"
Memphis pointed to the picture. "Flip it over. On the back is an address. He's not always there, but on occasions he's not off carving up rapists, this is his point of landing. Be warned, though, he's got someone living there too. I don't think it's a relationship. It appears to be a keeper, if you will. I hate the term babysitter, but that's as close as I can think."
"A keeper? What the fuck for?"
