9. June
JUNE
The part of town where Dagwood ran his pawn shop was not one that June visited often anymore.
It sat at the edge of an older industrial district south of the river, where the streets narrowed, and the buildings carried the weathered look of places that had been standing long enough to have seen better days and worse ones.
The cab had dropped them four blocks over, which was as close as June was willing to let it get.
From there, they took a bus to a street away and walked the rest.
Victoria looked around her as they moved down the street, her eyes taking in the shuttered storefronts and shuddering at the quiet of a neighborhood where people did not make eye contact without reason.
“Are you sure this is necessary, June?” Victoria pressed quietly. “Couldn’t we just?—”
“We need a laptop, burner phones, and new identification if we’re going to get anywhere from here,” June replied, keeping her voice low.
“We can’t use mine, and yours are both being watched.
I don’t enjoy traveling by bus any more than you do, and I noticed neither of you was exactly relishing it on the way over. ”
“No.” Victoria gave a small, uncomfortable laugh. “I can honestly say I’ve never taken a bus in my life before today.”
“Exactly.” June slowed as they approached a storefront with dark-tinted windows and a hand-painted sign that read Dagwood’s Pawn and Exchange. “And this is the one person I know who can get us everything we need without any of it coming back to us.”
“He can do all of that?” Alfred eyed the building warily.
“For the right people, yes,” June confirmed.
She pushed the door open, and a small bell chimed overhead.
The inside of Dagwood’s was exactly as she remembered it.
A long glass counter ran the length of one wall, behind which sat a bulletproof window with a narrow slot at the bottom.
Shelves behind the counter held the usual pawn shop inventory of watches, guitars, and power tools.
The young man behind the glass was tall and lean, both arms fully covered in intricate black-and-gray tattoos, his dark hair tied back at the nape of his neck. Sully was Dagwood’s son.
He looked up as the bell chimed, and his face broke into a genuine smile.
“Mrs. Carter!” Sully called out warmly. “It’s been a long time.”
“Hello, Sully,” June greeted him with an answering smile. “Is your father here?”
“He is.” Sully moved from behind the counter. “Give me a moment. I’ll go let him know you’re here.”
He crossed to the front door, flipped the sign to Closed, locked the deadbolt, and disappeared through a door at the back of the shop. Victoria’s brows rose.
“Is that normal procedure?” Victoria asked.
“For a visit like this, yes,” June replied calmly.
The door at the back opened again, and the man who stepped through it filled the doorframe so completely that Victoria actually took a half step backward.
Dagwood was well over six feet tall and built like a man who’d done physical work his entire life, his arms and neck covered in the same dense tattooing as his son’s.
His dark beard was streaked with silver.
His eyes, when they settled on June, were warm.
“For June Carter to walk through my door,” Dagwood rumbled, “it must be a very long day or a very bad one.”
“Both, I’m afraid,” June admitted.
“It’s been a long time, June.” Dagwood crossed the shop and shook her hand with both of his. “Too long. I thought you’d forgotten us down here.”
“I no longer do criminal law, Dagwood,” June reminded him with a smile. “I hope you and Sully have been behaving yourselves without me checking in.”
“Yes, indeed.” Dagwood’s chest puffed slightly with genuine pride. “Just the pawn shop now. Nothing more. Clean as a whistle.”
“Of course you are,” June replied dryly. “But I’m not here as an attorney today, Dagwood. My friends and I are in a bit of trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” Dagwood asked.
“The FBI kind,” June admitted.
Dagwood’s brows rose.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Dagwood drawled. He folded his heavily muscled arms across his broad chest. “What kind of help are you needing, June?”
“A car, a laptop, and a few burner phones,” June told him. “A set of identification that would pass at a decent hotel wouldn’t hurt either.” She smiled. “And I’m a cash buyer.”
“Hmm.” Dagwood studied her for a moment.
His eyes moved to Victoria and Alfred and then back to June.
“As it happens, I have a few templates lying around. All I’d need are your photographs.
” He grinned, his teeth very white against his dark beard.
“Templates left over from the old days, you understand. Just collecting dust.”
June sighed with a resigned fondness. “I promise you, Dagwood, I’m not here for any reason you’d have to answer for.”
“Come along, then.” Dagwood waved them toward the back. “Let’s get you away from the windows. Sully!”
Sully appeared from the back of the shop.
“Open up again,” Dagwood told him. “If anyone comes in looking for us, you haven’t seen me or anyone else today. We’ll be in the photo room. Let them search the shop if they want.”
“Got it, Dad.” Sully gave them a nod. “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Carter.”
“You too, Sully. Are you still in law school?” June watched the young man.
“One more year to go,” Sully replied with a proud smile.
“He’s in law school?” Victoria murmured, startled.
“He is,” June confirmed, smiling as she looked at Sully.
“June helped him get in,” Dagwood told Victoria. “We’ll always be grateful to her for what she did for my family.”
“It was nothing,” June replied gently. “You were a family caught in a terrible situation,” She glanced pointedly at Victoria. “You did what you had to, and I did what I could to help.”
“It was everything,” Dagwood corrected. “This way.”
He led them behind the counter and through the door at the back, into a small storeroom that looked like any other storeroom at first glance.
He moved a shelving unit aside with considerably more ease than a man his size should have been capable of, revealing a narrow door behind it.
A keypad and a palm reader sat beside the door.
Dagwood entered a sequence and pressed his hand to the reader, and the door released with a soft hiss of air.
A set of stairs led down into darkness.
“Don’t worry,” Dagwood told them as he stepped onto the first stair. “The lights come on as you descend. Nobody can hear us down there, and nobody can detect anything through the walls. I had it built properly.”
June followed him down. Victoria followed her. Alfred brought up the rear.
The room at the bottom of the stairs was considerably more advanced than the pawn shop above had suggested.
A bank of monitors sat along one wall. A high-end photography setup occupied the opposite corner, complete with a professional backdrop and lighting rig.
A long worktable held an array of laptops and phones, each of them boxed and unopened, as well as several devices June didn’t immediately recognize.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Dagwood offered, already reaching for a small fridge. “I have water, soda…” He glanced towards the kettle. “Coffee or tea?”
“Just some water, thank you, Dagwood,” June replied. Victoria and Alfred also opted for water.
He handed each of them a sealed bottle he pulled from the small fridge.
“We have to do the photographs first,” Dagwood said briskly, setting up his camera. “If you’d each step in front of the backdrop, please. Natural expression. Not too friendly. Not too stiff. Just you on a moderately ordinary day.”
Victoria went first, and June watched her step in front of the camera with a composure that was genuinely impressive given the circumstances. Alfred went next, stiff as a board, which Dagwood corrected with a few quiet instructions. June stepped in last.
“It’s going to take a while. So get comfortable,” Dagwood told them once the photos were taken and indicated toward the waiting area. “They won’t be my finest work, given the timeline, but they’ll pass anywhere short of a federal checkpoint.”
“They just need to get us into a hotel,” June assured him.
Dagwood nodded and settled in at his workstation.
Two hours later, the three of them stepped out of a side door at the back of Dagwood’s building and into a narrow service alley.
A sleek black town car sat waiting for them, its windows tinted considerably darker than was strictly legal in the state of Florida. Dagwood patted the hood with genuine affection.
“It’s bulletproof as well. I’ve had the engine remapped, added a full armor package, and she runs on diesel, so you’ll get plenty of miles out of her.”
“We’re not in that much trouble, Dagwood,” June protested. “We don’t need it to be bulletproof or indestructible.”
“Speak for yourself.” Victoria’s voice carried a dry humor that June still wasn’t quite used to hearing from her. “Thank you, Dagwood. We owe you one.”
“Of course, Victoria.” Dagwood gave her a small nod. “Any friend of June’s.”
Alfred shook Dagwood’s hand with quiet gratitude and took the driver’s seat. Victoria slid into the back. June paused at the rear door and turned back to Dagwood.
“One more thing,” June told him. “If my daughter or my sister comes looking for me?—”
“I haven’t seen you in many, many years,” Dagwood interrupted smoothly.
“Thank you, Dagwood. Truly.” June gave him a grateful smile.
“Be careful, June.” Dagwood’s eyes held hers for a moment longer. “My number’s programmed in each of your phones. Don’t hesitate to call if you need me.”
“We will,” June promised.
She slid into the back beside Victoria, and Alfred pulled the car smoothly out of the alley.