Javier shifts in his seat to look at me.
“They sent me several photographs. Parts of her body that they cut off. Even some areas where they sliced off her skin. Would you like to see them?”
I don’t answer.
“No, I suppose that might be too gruesome, even for you. Regardless, she did eventually break. She told my men all about you and the two men you were with. The information didn’t help us, not right then, but shortly afterward we were contacted by an outside party.”
The driver veers off to the next exit. We take it to the top of the ramp, stop for the traffic light.
“This party apparently lost something of theirs, something they believed you were also responsible for. This party somehow knew you had been responsible for both incidents. And this party promised to reimburse us for everything we lost and even more if we were to bring you in.”
We turn right at the light and start down the road and immediately I know where we’re going. I’ve had an idea since we started driving, but now I’m certain.
“This party,” Javier says, “expects something out of you. To be honest, I don’t know what it is, nor do I care to know. I only care that my father and I have been wronged, and that worst of all we were wronged by a fucking puta.”
Down one street, down another. Into another residential area. The houses growing larger. The cars in the driveways becoming more expensive.
“Just so we’re clear, Miss Lin, despite what may happen between you and this other party, things are not done between us.”
The driver turns down a familiar street, past familiar houses and trees and mailboxes.
“Do you understand me, Miss Lin? Do you understand how you have shamed me and my family?”
Swallowing, my throat suddenly dry, I say, “Yes, I do.”
“Are you sorry?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Why do I not believe you?”
I don’t answer him. I don’t answer him because we’ve arrived.
The driver slows. He makes the turn into the driveway. He pulls to a stop in front of the garage. He places the Town Car in park, gets out.
“Now it is time for us to part ways, Miss Lin. Just remember what I told you. Remember what we did to Rosalina.”
The driver opens my door. I get out. The man in the passenger seat, the man with the deep brown eyes and the gun, gets out too. He has the weapon concealed but it’s clear he no longer needs it. I know it just as well as he does. I’m not going to fight them.
They take me to the back porch. They take me inside.
The kitchen is a mess. It’s clear a struggle took place. Some pots and pans are strewn across the floor. A chair is tipped over.
We walk out of the kitchen and into the living room.
Here Sylvia lies on the couch. Her wrists and ankles have been tied. Duct tape covers her mouth. There’s some dried blood on her forehead. She hears us enter the living room and opens her eyes and watches us as we pass through the living room and into the hallway.
Blood soaks the carpet outside of Walter’s office. What’s left of Baron lies beside it.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and step inside.
Someone is sitting at Walter’s desk. They’re in the chair, turned away from me so they can stare out into the backyard.
One of the wooden kitchen chairs has been brought into the room. It’s placed in front of the desk.
The men force me to sit down on it. With plastic ties they strap my ankles and wrists to the chair. The driver slaps duct tape over my mouth.
The entire thing takes less than ten seconds, and then they’re gone and it’s just me and the person in the chair.
After a moment, the chair swivels around and I find myself staring at a ghost.
“Hey, Holly,” Zane says. “Been a while, hasn’t it?”
Forty-Seven
“I guess you’re surprised to see me, which is understandable. After all, it’s been two years and … well, it’s complicated.”
Zane leans back in Walter’s chair, raises his arms and puts his hands behind his head.
“I wish this didn’t have to happen. I really do. But it was unavoidable.”
The last time I saw Zane he was on a yacht and had just been shot by my father. He had brown curly hair then. He had a silver ring hanging from his left ear.
“I’m sure you’re asking yourself a lot of questions right now. I wish I could answer those questions. I wish I could tell you this is all a dream. But it’s not. I’m just as real as you are. As real as”—he leans forward, raps his knuckles on the desktop—“this desk.”
Now his head is shaved to a crew cut. His face wears a couple days of growth. The silver earring is gone.
“Let me cut to the chase. The job you guys pulled in Las Vegas—that really fucked us over. That meeting Delano had scheduled for the next day, that was with my employer. He was going to purchase the flash drive.”
He pushes away from the desk, stands up. He appears taller than I remember, but I know that’s ridiculous. He’s the same size he’s always been; in my mind’s eye he’s just grown smaller.
“We need that flash drive, Holly.”
I sit there, staring back at him. I don’t move. I don’t make a sound.
Zane walks around the desk, taking his time, letting his finger graze along the side of the oak finishing. He comes to stand in front of me, leans back on the desk, crosses his arms.
“Now we know you have nothing to do with the flash drive. For you it was just a mission. You made your hit, grabbed your prize, and then you left. Only you didn’t leave, did you? You did an
