Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
WREN
Isqueeze Sly’s hand tightly as he leads us into the diner. My eyes dart everywhere. Even if Max and Troy have been dealt with, it doesn’t mean Robert will stop looking for me. He found me once; I’m sure he can do it again.
It’s not until we’re finally settled into a big curved booth, with me in the center between Sly and Jagger, that I finally ask, “How did they find me?”
All eyes move to me as I grip the menu tightly, trying to get a hold of my worry.
“We’re not sure,” Sly says, looking upset at the idea of not knowing.
Jagger raises his hands and signs, “The car.”
Sly nods, “Perhaps.”
“Or the phone,” he signs again.
“We should ditch both,” Dex says, then shrugs when everyone looks at him. “Why not? Then we know they won’t find us.”
“If this town has a shopping centre, let’s get phones for all of us so we can track one another and stay in contact,” Sly says, turning his attention to the menu, which is a white piece of paper that seems to double as our place mat.
“And you guys need new clothes, right?” I ask, wondering how they managed to kill those guys without getting any blood on them.
Practice.
“Let’s grab everything we need, so we don’t have to spend multiple nights in the same place again.”
“Then what? We just keep running? Forever?” I ask, hating the idea of them being in danger because of me.
“Not forever, just until we can catch our bearings and make a plan,” Sly tells me, placing his hand on my thigh and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Good morning, welcome to The Flashback Diner. Can I get y’all something to drink to get started?” The bubbly waitress, who looks to be in her mid-fifties, asks as she steps up to our table, pen and pad at the ready.
Sly looks at me in question, and I shrug in response. I still haven’t figured out what I prefer to drink yet.
Turning to the waitress, he orders, “Four coffees, a chocolate milk, an orange juice, and a cup of tea.”
“Coming right up!” She bustles off, and I turn my attention to the menu. The choices are practically endless, but what catches my attention is the entire section filled with different types of eggs Benedict. I’ve always wanted to try it.
“Jagger?” I whisper as I lean toward him. He lowers his head in question. “I can really order anything on here?” I gesture to the menu, and he frowns at me.
He drops his menu and pulls out the phone to type his response this time. I read it silently as he places his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side.
Little flame, you can always eat, order, or buy whatever you want. Not only is it YOUR body, but we’re using your money to pay for it. Get the entire menu if you wish.
I give him a strained smile as I look back at the menu. It’s hard not to feel stupid, not knowing I was allowed to order anything. It’s becoming so obvious how much Robert had trained me to believe his lies.
When the waitress comes back with our drinks, I order a classic Eggs Benedict, and the guys order a pile of food. I imagine since they're so big, they need a lot of food to fuel those big muscles.
When she leaves, I reach for a crayon. I spot it in a cup in the center of the table and flip my menu over to the blank side.
“What are you drawing?” Dex asks, leaning forward as he holds his coffee cup in his giant hands.
“I‘m not drawing,” I say, taking a sip of what Sly called chocolate milk. “I’m—”
I freeze, my wide eyes turning back to the cup I’m still holding.
“Dios mio! What is this? I mean, I know what it is, but…” I stop talking so I can take another sip, and quickly down half the glass.
It’s creamy and sweet, and the most perfect thing I’ve ever drank in my life.
“This is amazing! Why aren’t you guys drinking this all the time? ”
“Now I know how much you like it, I will be,” Dex says with a smirk.
“Me, too,” Pete grins, then points to my hand still holding the crayon. “If you’re not drawing, what are you doing with that?”
“Oh, right.” I look back down at the blank page. “We need to make a plan.”
“For what?”
“Your freedom.” I don’t look at them as I write their names across the top, giving each their own column.
I take a minute to remember what each has told me about their arrest through their letters and decide to start with the information I already know.
“Jagger,” I say, pointing the crayon at him.
“You said you were trying to get rid of Conte Noir’s men, right?
His gang was ruining your neighborhood?” He nods, and I continue.
“He was on to you, and you were arrested for a man’s murder that you’d never even seen, and yet they had evidence.
Right?” He nods, and I write Conte Noir at the top of his list. Then framed for murder underneath it.
“I didn’t know that,” Dex says, giving Jagger a sideways look.
“Maybe if you guys bothered to learn sign language, you would know more about him.” He ducks his head, looking properly chastised. I don’t mean to make him feel bad, but I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for Jagger in prison. Only being able to communicate slowly with a pencil and paper.
Jagger wraps his arm around me and places a swift kiss on my temple, making my cheeks heat.
“You’re right,” Dex admits. “I wasn’t a good cellmate to any of them. But I’ll be the best… the best…” He tilts his head as he looks between the other three, as if he doesn’t know what to call them.
“Friend?” I suggest.
He beams his big smile at me and nods. “Yes! I’ll be the best friend any of them has ever had!”
“Oh dear lord, here we go…” Sly says with a sigh before taking a sip of his black coffee.
I turn back to Jagger as I resume my investigation. “All that happened in Brookstead, right?” He nods, and I write that in his column. “And you don’t know exactly who this Conte Noir is, or where he lives?” He shakes his head, and I nod before turning to Dex.
“You lived in Greybridge, right?”
“Yep.” He takes a sip of his coffee, watching me write that under his column.
“I know someone was trying to hire you, and you declined. They didn’t like that, so they put a dead woman in your room, and you went to jail for her murder. Right?”
He nods, observing me as I write framed for murder in his column.
“Do you know who was trying to hire you?”
“It was Il Nero.” My eyebrows raise slightly in surprise at the name, but I nod, adding it to his column.
Hopefully laying it all out like this will give me an idea of how to proceed. I tend to be more of a visual learner.
I turn to Pete next, and he leans back in his seat, raising an eyebrow at me in question. “Ask away, angel cake.”
“You told me you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That’s right. I was walking down the street, and a man was shot in front of me. I couldn’t even see who killed him, so I tried to duck for cover. Suddenly, I’m being shoved to the pavement by a pair of cops who claim I killed the man.”
“How did they even get you for that? You didn’t have a gun, right?” Sly asks, mirroring my own confusion.
“I guess I had the world's worst attorney or something. The entire trial was a shitshow. They had multiple witnesses that said I did it, even though they never found the gun.”
“Fuck man, that sucks,” Dex says as I write framed for murder in his column, too.
“Thanks, yours did, too. You too, Jag,” Pete says as they all give each other strange-looking head nods.
“Okay, and where was this?” I ask to get us back on track.
“Sunnyvale.”
“Did anyone approach you about joining their crew, like with Dex?”
He shakes his head, then frowns down at my list as he adds, “But I was doing something similar to Jagger.”
Everyone looks at him as he explains. “It’s kind of a long story, but I was looking into someone named The Raven. I suspected him of being in charge of all the organized crime happening in the area. I may have taken out some of his men, trying to track him down.”
“The Raven?” I clarify as I add it to the list.
He nods, but it’s Sly who speaks next. “I was just trying to get rid of the vile trash who lived in Bracken Hill. I’d noticed an increase in murders and rapes, and the police didn’t seem to be doing much.
Since I had a talent for taking out the trash, I took things into my own hands.
I don’t think it was organized, but I have no idea.
I never thought to ask questions before killing them. ”
He looks a little guilty as he admits that, and I make sure to add points to his column, too, before patting his thigh in what I hope is reassurance.
I don’t believe for a second that he’s a bad guy, that any of them are. They only killed people who deserved it, I’d bet my life on it. Maybe I’m being naive, but I choose to believe I’m a realist.
Glancing at everything I’ve written down, I take a few minutes to scan the lists. All four stories had too many similarities for me to believe they were mere coincidences.
“Well, the obvious commonality here is that you were all framed. But there’s another big one here.”
“What’s that?” Dex says, leaning forward to get a better look at my paper.
I point to each name as I read it. “Il Nero, Conte Noir and the Raven.”
“What about them?” Pete asks, tilting his head to stare down at the page.
Jagger signs a single word, and I nod.
“What did he say?” Pete asks.
“Black. All of these names are different forms of the same thing. Il Nero means the black or dark one in Italian. Conte Noir means Count Black in French.”
“How do you know that?” Pete asks, sounding genuinely amazed at my linguistic skills.
I shrug, trying to downplay it so they don’t think I’m weird. “You know I’ve studied other languages, right?”
“I know you sometimes say things in Spanish, but I didn’t realize how extensive your knowledge is,” Pete admits.
“You said your brother started you on it when you were younger, and it was something you actually enjoyed, so you took it upon yourself to learn more,” Sly says.