Antonio slowed as the construction alert flashing arrow on the interstate directed traffic over, narrowing down to one line. The construction, on top of not breaking down Drury’s alibi, kept his temper bubbling just beneath the surface. He hit the horn when an idiot in a Mercedes swerved in front of him at the last second, merging into the congested highway. Good thing his weapon was in the glove box, or he might’ve been sorely tempted to do a little target practice on the idiot’s tires.
“How’s Serena?”
“Doc Stevens says she’s good. They ran a couple more tests, and if she doesn’t have any problems, they’ll spring her first thing in the a.m.”
Antonio breathed a sigh of relief. He hated seeing her lying in the clinic’s bed, pale and bloody. When she’d finally opened her eyes, his whole world righted itself, where before it felt upside down and inside out. The entire ride in the back of the ambulance to the clinic, he’d prayed, begging for God to grant him a miracle and heal her, and his prayers had been answered.
“Williamson dropped by and talked to Serena,” Rafe added, his tone smug. “Gotta say, he wasn’t what I pictured. I thought all you FBI guys wore suits and ties, and acted all snooty.”
“Bite me.”
His brother’s laughter proved he’d taken his comeback in fun. “Seriously though, he seems to have a good head on his shoulders. Said he talked with Serena, and she mentioned something Drury said at the scene.”
“What?”
“Serena was his ticket to freedom and he meant to cash it in. Any idea what he meant?”
Antonio thought about the words. “Not a clue. You?”
“Nope. I’ve been reading up on the trial. Serena’s testimony was definitely the lynchpin to putting Berkley away. Without her testimony and the evidence she provided, he’d still be out instilling fear with his reign of terror.”
“Drury’s got several lawyers working with him on Big Jim’s case, but he’s the only one who’s personally visited Berkley in prison. Not unusual, I guess, but there’s something about this whole scenario that seems off. It stinks like rotten fish.”
Traffic stopped dead, cars idling in place, and Antonio was sorely tempted to get off the freeway and drive the service roads, but that would take just as long as inching along in bumper-to-bumper congestion, even with the sporadic stops and starts. He looked up at the beep of another incoming call, the screen showing an unknown number.
“Bro, I’ve got another call. Let me call you back.”
“No problem.”
Disconnecting from Rafe, he swiped to accept the other call, hoping it wasn’t some telemarketer who’d regret calling him. He was in the mood to tear somebody up one side and down the other, metaphorically speaking.
“Hello.”
“Is this Antonio Boudreau?” The voice was distorted and tinny-sounding, obviously filtered through a synthesizer of some sort. Who’d want to disguise their voice?
“Yes, who’s this?”
“I have information, dirt you’ll find very informative, on a case you’re working.”
Antonio sat straighter in his seat, his curiosity piqued. “What kind of information?”
“Answer a question for me, and I’ll give you everything you need.”
Great, another whack job. Wonder how he got my number?
“I’ll bite. What’s the question?”
“How’s Sharon?”
Antonio slammed on the brakes, barely missing rear-ending the car in front of him. “What did you say?”
“I know you’ve found her. Tell me she’s alright.”
“Who is this?” The command in his voice was absolute. He wasn’t going to tell whoever this was a thing about Serena, but he couldn’t help wondering how the caller knew he’d found her.
“I’m not an idiot, Mr. Boudreau. I know you’re in your car, so you can’t trace the call easily, and by the time you do, I’ll be long gone. I’m not stupid enough to stay on the line long anyway. This phone will be destroyed after I hang up, so don’t bother trying to find me. It’s a simple quid pro quo. Answer my question, and I’ll tell you where you can find enough dirt to keep Big Jim Berkley in prison, and ruin any chance he has for his upcoming appeal.”
Could he risk it? He didn’t have time to come up with a ploy, some way to keep the mysterious caller on the line. Out of options, he did the only thing he could.
“Sharon’s fine.”
“Mr. Boudreau, I know about the accident. How badly was she hurt?”
Antonio’s heartbeat sped up at the caller’s revelation. How could they know? Nobody outside of Shiloh Springs, except Williamson, knew they’d even found Serena, much less about the car accident. Unless the caller was Drury. It was the only explanation. Maybe he wanted the information so he could come back and finish what he’d started.
“I said she’s okay. She’s got a mild concussion, some cuts and bruises.”
“She’ll fully recover?”
“That’s right.”
Antonio heard a soft sigh over the speaker. It almost sounded like the caller was relieved, which would rule out Drury. Except Drury hadn’t wanted Serena dead. He’d said she was his ticket to freedom. If she died, he couldn’t use her for whatever he’d intended.
“You sound concerned. Do you know Sharon?”
There was a moment’s hesitation. “I do—did—a long time ago. I was glad when she got away from…all her family’s mess.” Antonio struggled to hear, as the call signal began cutting in and out. Not now! I have to find out who this is and what they know.
“If you care about her, tell me what you know. Help me keep her safe.”
“I’m texting you information for a safe deposit box. I’m also overnighting a notarized authorization to access the box, as well as the key. Inside, you’ll find what I promised.”
“Wait—”
Before he could say another word, the call disconnected. Antonio slammed his hand against the steering wheel, frustrated he hadn’t gotten more from the unidentified caller. Seconds later, the text alert dinged, again from the mystery caller. It gave
