Chapter Six
Ivy
I spun the club in my grip, leaning against the wall as I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Quinn stirred. A soft groan escaped her mouth—the only part of her not bound. I secured her arms, legs, shoulders, and even her head to the chair. I wasn’t taking any chances. She was a slippery bitch.
Squinting, Quinn grimaced at the glare coming through the broken window. She lifted her hand and found she couldn’t. “Wha...? What’s going on?”
I dropped the club on the wood, snapping her eyes up. “Take a wild guess.”
“De Souza? What is this? What am I doing here?” She strained against the ropes. “Let— Let me out! Untie these right now.”
“Uh, no,” I drew out. “I don’t think I will.”
“You will, you crazy bitch! Right now while you still have a chance of me telling everyone this was all just a prank.”
I drifted over her head, gazing out that broken window. My farmland swept out before me, holding all the memories of my childhood like mirages flitting out of the corner of my eye. “Do you remember the last time you were here, Cunningham?”
“The last time? I’ve never been to this shit heap.” Quinn tugged, flinging her body back and lifting the front chair legs barely an inch. If she was hoping to tip back, break the chair, and get away, she’d have to think of something else. I used a few old tools in the barn to weigh them down. “Get these off.”
“It was the night you killed my sister,” I continued like she never interrupted. “You, Zoey, and four of your closest psychopathic friends came here to teach me a lesson, but it was Rainey who paid the price.”
“What? You’re talking about yourself in the third person now?” She raised her voice. “You’re not making any sense, bitch. Untie these and go back on your meds.”
I laughed. “You know, now that I think about it, I should’ve been suspicious of you from the beginning. When I returned to Bedlam U thinking I was Rainey, no one had a clue who I was. Everyone—Paris, her friends, Cairo—all assumed I was from out of state. I had to correct them all and say I was homeschooled. But you...” I pointed the club. “You called me farm trash from the start. How did you know I lived on a farm when no one else did?”
If I expected Quinn to break down and say, aha, you caught me, I was disappointed.
“This isn’t funny anymore. Let me g-go,” she said, thrashing. “My sisters saw me leave with you. You should’ve thought this through.”
“I did think it through. They saw you leave with me willingly after I told Amy you were going to help me get the Bedlam Boys out of jail. They stopped thinking about you the minute you walked out the door.”
“What do you want from me?!”
“I’ll spell it out for you. You’re one of the Black Letter Crew—the name we gave the monsters sending us black letters who were once the acolytes of Scott Cavendish. Two years ago, you killed my little sister and broke my mind.”
I knew as I said the words, they were true. I didn’t see her face that night, and I didn’t remember her voice, but I did remember her figure. She dressed for the occasion then too. Cute in a tight sweater dress, jeans, and leather boots. I remembered she laughed when Rainey’s blood got on them.
“Good thing it’s leather. It’ll wash right off.”
I repeated her horrid comment, searching for a reaction.
Nothing.
“You really are insane.”
I heaved a sigh. “As much fun as this back-and-forth is, I don’t have time for it. You’re going to tell me where Dante is holding Jack Sharpe, and you’re going to tell me now.”
“How in the hell would I know?” Amazing that someone tied to a chair in a falling-down farmhouse could possess so much attitude. She looked like all this was an irritating waste of a Friday. “Jack Sharpe has nothing to do with me. Forgot he existed after your boyfriends stopped fucking me. Oh, is that what this is about?” Quinn smirked. “You’re coming after me because I was the Bedlam Boys’ favorite ride.
“Let me guess. That whole thing about breaking up was true, but it’s them breaking up with you. They want their Quinn back because just like I told them, I’m the only one who can give them what they need. Aww.” She pushed out her lips, pouting in mock concern. “You’re so desperate, you’re taking out the competition before she knows she’s in the game. Pathetic.”
“Holy hell, you talk a lot of bullshit. The Bedlam Boys wouldn’t touch you with a flea-bitten homeless man’s dick, let alone their own.” One step, then another, I ate the distance. “We’re not here to play games, Quinn. You’re going to tell me where the sheriff is. That’s it. That’s all you have to do right now.
“My first priority is to free him and get him to stop whatever Davidson is planning. After that’s done, we’ll have a deeper conversation about the Black Letter Crew, everything you guys have done, and everything you’re planning.”
Quinn looked from me... to the golf club striking my palm. “And if I don’t, what are you going to do, de Souza? Beat me? Torture me?”
“Yes.”
Her grin twitched. Unsurety flashed across her features for the briefest moment.
“Oh, please,” she snorted. “You don’t have the stomach.”
“I don’t? A year ago, sure, I didn’t have the stomach. But then the girl I thought I was burned a man alive. And the girl I really am remembered that you killed my sister.” I bent, latching my gaze onto hers. “Look in my eyes, Quinn. Do I have the stomach?”
She looked, and the grin melted away. “You won’t kill me.”
“You sound like you’re asking me, not telling me. If you need me to repeat myself, here it is: you will not survive this, Cunningham. No matter what, I will beat you bloody and bury you in the dirt for what you did to Rainey.”
“I didn’t do anything!” She lurched forward, trying to bash in my nose. Again she didn’t get far. “I have no idea about any of this. You have the wrong person!”
“Jacques assured me you’re the right person. Now that I’m finally looking, I know it’s true.”
“You’re wrong,” she said, shaking her head under the ropes. “You’re about to make a big mistake, de Souza. The worst you’ll ever make. This is your last chance to let me go.”
I straightened. “Where is Jack Sharpe?”
“You’re deaf and stupid. I. Don’t. Know,” she yelled.
“This is your last chance,” I said, voice flat. “Where is Jack Sharpe?”
She made a frustrated noise. “I swear when I get out of here, I’m going to make a sex tape with all of your boyfriends—at the same time—and make sure it’s the only thing they let you watch in your jail cell.”
“Kinky. I’m not too interested in the you part, but put me in the middle of that orgy, and I’ll happily watch it in prison. But I did say that was your last chance to answer, and I don’t want to start this off by lying to you.” I lifted the club, making her shoulders tense, then set it down on the floor. “I’m fortunate now that so many things were left in the barn to rust.”
I reached over her head, and picked something off the fireplace mantel. Quinn’s eyes crossed on the shears I held before her nose.
“One thing that’ll always bother me about that night, and about you, is that even though you were there to do what you did, you dressed up like you were going on a date. It was that important to you to look pretty.” I took a hank of her hair, and cut it off without pause or warning.
Quinn’s scream echoed throughout the acres.
“It does bring me some peace to know after today, you’ll never look pretty again.”
“You bitch! You evil, twisted bitch!” Spittle showered my arm. “You’ll pay for that. I fucking swear, you’ll regret this!”
“Where is Jack Sharpe?”
“I don’t know! I’m not who you think I am. You’ve got everything ass-backwards like the stupid farm hick you are.”
I grabbed another hank.
“No, no, no—”
It separated in my hand. I let go, letting the strands fall on her lap.
“Where is Jack Sharpe?”
Quinn snarled, furious tears gathering on her lids. “You’re going to wish you burned Ruckus night, de Souza. I’ll never forget this.”
“But I forgot. I locked away the truth of what happened to Rainey and you got to live two years on borrowed time. You had to know there was a chance I’d get my memory back,” I said. “You had to know one day we’d end up here. At least quit the act and face me as your true self, because you’re not getting away from me.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why won’t you listen to me?”
I grasped her ends. She tensed, sucking in a breath. “Are you sure that’s what you want to say? I’ll give you three seconds to come up with a better response.”
Quinn looked at me, jaw grinding, and said nothing.
Her hair joined the rest on the floor. So it went with each question about Sheriff Sharpe. Quinn refused to answer, either by claiming innocence, insulting me, or detailing all the things my guys did to her and would do again when she got them back.
My shears snipped for the last time. Stepping back, I admired Quinn’s new look. An uneven mess that gave the vibe she got her head caught in a lawn mower. The wild thing was, she still looked beautiful.
I picked up the club. I’ll fix that.
“You understand there’s only one way for us to go from here. I don’t have a lot of time, so if your hair wasn’t enough to get you to speak, I’ll see if your kneecaps are.”
Her glare could’ve turned my blood to acid.
“Don’t let it get that far, Quinn.”
I couldn’t help a glance at my watch. I was running out of time. Dante has to know what his pet cop has done by now. He’ll probably put some effort into getting Davidson to let them go, so they can carry out the job he’s too lazy to do, but when that didn’t work, he’d have no reason to keep the sheriff alive.
I bet that’s why Davidson made a scene and arrested them on campus. He wanted the whole town to know they were going down for murder, so it wouldn’t be easy to make it go away.
If they were suddenly released from their holding cell without charges, there’d be questions. Too many questions.
That’s why I needed Jack Sharpe to reappear, tell the world he was kidnapped, and wrestle control away from that shit-covered slime Davidson. See? Cairo didn’t need to worry about me killing his father. Not while I still had need of him.
I stepped to the side, leveling the club with her knee. “Tell me where he is, Quinn.”
“I don’t know where he is. I didn’t even know he was missing. I’m telling you that you have the wrong person. Whatever you do to me, you can’t make me admit to being a part of your deluded fantasies.”
“Just couldn’t resist getting an insult in. Hope it was worth it.” Angling my swing, I drew back and—
“Ahhh!”
I winced at her scream. Couldn’t blame her. I think I heard something crunch.
“Where is Jack Sharpe?”
“I’m not who you think I am. I can’t—”
I smashed the other knee. Quinn screamed herself hoarse.
“The next one is in the face. You’ll black out and we’ll lose some time, but it’ll be worth it to break your teeth and rearrange that button nose.”
“Evil... crazy bitch,” she rasped, chest heaving. “You have no idea... the pain you have coming. It’ll make your weak hits feel like love taps.”
“I’ll take that as your answer.” I swung the club at her face.
“Stop. Stop!” she screeched. “Just stop.”
I did, pulling back at the last second.
I waited.
“All right, de Souza.” Quinn’s voice was barely above a rasp, but it laced with menace. “If this is how you want to do this, let’s stop playing games.”
“Oh, let’s, please.”
“Yes, I’m one of what you call the Black Letter Crew, and what of it? Doesn’t mean I was there the night they put down your sister, Ivy. Doesn’t mean I know where Jack Sharpe is.”
My jaw clenched. I fought to relax it. I wouldn’t let her think her poison got to me.
“You were there that night. The games are done, Quinn. You can stop lying now.” I moved in front of her. “The part about not knowing where Jack Sharpe is could be true, but you understand I’m going to make extra sure, and keep questioning you until your busted jaw and broken teeth leave you unable to answer.”
She hardened. Somehow tied to that chair, she lifted her chin and looked her nose down at me. “You don’t scare me. Who do you think you’re dealing with? I can handle a little pain. I’m not the weak little girl whose mind shattered into pieces that you see in the mirror every morning.
“Bring. It. On.”
I hefted the club. “If that’s what you want.”
Metal struck bone.
“Ahhh!”
ARSENIO
“What time is it?”
I pressed against the bars. “Can’t see the clock from here, but I can see the window. The sun’s set.”
“Then that’s it,” Roan said. “The tournament is over and the party starts soon. We’ll never make it to Hunter’s Crest in time. It’s over.”
“I’ve accepted that and moved on to our new problem.” Cairo paced the length of the cell. “The lawyer Paris sent said he can’t get us in front of a judge until Monday morning, and that judge won’t be Judge Stone. Davidson can keep us here all weekend. By then my father’s dead.”
“We don’t know that,” Roan tried. “They could hold on to him to force us to take another shot at the Ellises.”
“You’re assuming the judge grants us bail,” I said quietly. “Or that the video of us admitting we kidnapped and tied to a stake the man that Cairo set on fire, won’t be more than convincing to a jury of our peers. You’re assuming we’re ever getting out of this cell.”
“I didn’t set him on fire.”
“But we can’t say who did,” Jacques replied.
Cairo didn’t argue that. He could be pissed at her, and even have himself convinced they broke up, but he knew what belonged to the Bedlam Boys, belonged to the Bedlam Boys. She’d leave us when we allowed it.
Roan crossed to the bars. “Why haven’t they brought Legend back?”
“Because they think you’ll continue kicking his ass,” Cairo shot back. “Wherever he is, he better be thinking of a way out of this. We’ve got to get to my father tonight.”
“I’ve taken care of that.”
Three heads swung to the guy in the corner.
“What do you mean you took care of it?” I said.
“I told de Souza the name. One of the Black Letter Crew. She knows what that means she has to do.”
“Yeah,” Cairo scoffed. “It means she kicks back in our bed, sipping smoothies, watching the clock run down. She hates Jack Sharpe. She’s not lifting a finger to help him.”
“She’d do it for you.” Roan leaned on the bars—a rare, serious look on his face. “She loves you, despite you doing everything you can to turn that love into hate. She won’t sit back and do nothing when she knows you need her.”
“I don’t need her,” he snapped. “And if that’s what she’s been doing all this time, what’s taking so long? Huh? Where are they?”
Roan, Jacques, and I shared a look. That was a good question.
“I couldn’t find her,” Jacques admitted. “Maybe she can’t either.”
Roan held up a hand. “First, who is her?”
“You won’t believe this but it’s—” Jacques gestured with his chin.
I shook my head no. No one was listening to us.
“It’s Quinn Cunningham.”
Pure shock slackened my jaw. “What? No. It can’t be.”
“It is. I tested her and she was twelve for twelve on the sociopath scale.”
“Yeah, but what does that prove?” Cairo said. “That’s one of the things we like in our girlfriends. Or else they’d run screaming.”
“You’re a psych major, Cairo. You know what that proves. Even you wouldn’t pass that test with flying colors.” Jacques got to his feet. “But that wasn’t the only thing. Unlike the others, I spent time with Quinn. Lived with her. I had hundreds of memories to access,” he said, tapping his skull. “The night of the party when her sister was killed, Quinn left to drive a drunk friend home. She never came back.
“Then there were things that she said. Stuff that she did. We know Quinn has a mean streak. There was all that shit with the sorority hazing, but we can’t forget what she did during the Dallas away game.
“She and her friends shoved alcohol down a freshman’s throat, then Quinn took her up to the roof. She told her she’d get in with the sorority and with her friends if she walked across the hotel’s roof ledge five stories up. The girl was drunk off her ass. There was only one way that story was going to end.”
Cairo nodded, eyes glazed. “She’s still in a coma. We only know Quinn did it because we saw her running from the roof staircase that night. She still lies with a straight face and says she doesn’t have a clue what happened to that girl.”
“Exactly,” Jacques said. “And if all that wasn’t enough to convince me, hooking up with Jeremy Ellis did. We thought he went after her to get dirt on us—and he probably did—but Quinn isn’t an idiot. She would’ve known he was using her, and that using him to make us jealous was a waste of time. It wasn’t about us—”
“Dante wanted her to snuggle up to the sons of Foundry,” Cairo finished.
“Exactly.”
I swore. “How did we miss that! We fucking shared a bed with this woman.”
“We didn’t know the Black Letter Crew existed then,” Roan reminded. “Like he said, the things off about Quinn just turned us on. But now I’m wondering did we pick her... or did she pick us?”
Silence spread through the cell.
“And you sent de Souza to question her,” Cairo said. “Our ex and one of the people who killed her sister. No wonder it’s taking so long.”
He didn’t need to explain that. Naturally, Ivy was taking a while because burying a body six feet under wasn’t as easy or quick as people thought. I could only hope she got Cairo’s dad’s location before—
The lights winked out, plunging us in darkness.
“Hey,” Mars called. “Peters, what happened? Did you trip the breaker again?”
“Just walked into the kitchen. Didn’t even get the chance,” she said. “Relax. It’s an old building. Faulty wiring. The backup generator should kick on in a minute.”
She no sooner ended her sentence than light returned to our cell.
“See? Told you it was—?”
The lights went out again.
“Now what?” Mars cried.
“I bet you can answer that. Did you forget to put gas in the generator even though I reminded you? Twice.”
“Uhh, yeah. Sorry about that. I’ll run out and get some.” A chair scraped back, then boots shuffled across the floor. “We’ve got extra flashlights and batteries with the hurricane supplies. I won’t be long.”
We listened to him walk out, then the faint hum of an engine started and faded down the street.
“Mars,” Davidson called. “Peters. Get these lights back on.”
“Mars is taking care of it, sir. He went out for gas.” I tracked her faint outline as she passed us, heading for the spare flashlights.
Door hinges squeaked, drawing my attention to the entrance. Two— No, three figures crossed the threshold.
“Hello? Wait at the front desk,” Peters said. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
One of them broke off and sprinted, streaking past me.
“Hey—!”
There was a smack of flesh on flesh. Running to the other side, I strained to see past the limits of my cell. Who is that? What’s going on?”
Electricity sparked the air. The flash from the stun gun illuminated their faces for a blink, letting me see Peters red-faced and panicking with a hand clamped on her mouth, and her attacker’s beady eyes glaring through the holes in the ski mask.
The stunner went off again, and a body hit the floor.
“You’re welcome,” said a dry voice I didn’t recognize.
“You.” Seems Roan did. “Why are you here?”
“You and your boyfriend need to talk more. Especially since you’re paying handsomely for this jailbreak.”
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“No names until we’re out of the police station, yeah?” Amusement laced his voice. “I was told three. Where’s the last one?”
“In his office. Through the door you passed,” Roan said. “If he heard Peters go down, he’s ducked behind his desk with a gun pointed at the door.”
“No less than we figured. Nathan,” he called.
A scream ripped through the dark, stiffening me to attention.
“Peters?! What’s going on out there? Did those little shits get out of their cell?” His door banged open. “If they try to run, shoot them— Ugh.”
Thud!
“He’s down, A.”
“Hmm. That was easier than I thought,” said our new friend. “I almost feel bad taking your money now. We didn’t break a sweat.”
“Want to continue the self-celebration after you get us out of here?” I remarked.
He chuckled. The guy went to the closet Peters was shuffling through, snagged a flashlight, and got the key off her belt. We filed out and Roan claimed the keys. He went through to the interrogation rooms.
“Go,” I stated. “We’ve got it from here.”
“Not even a thank-you.” A faint tsk reached my ear. “Not very nice, but at least I’ve got a couple thousand to ease the sting. I’ll be calling you about that favor, Bedlam Boys.”
Favor?My eyes narrowed to slits. What favor?
“Real soon.”
They left as easily as they came, leaving us with two unconscious bodies and an unsuspecting cop on the way back.
“We need to get out of here before Mars comes back,” Jacques said. But he wasn’t moving either.
The three of us, then five as Roan and Legend returned, made a still and watchful circle around Davidson.
“He’d know where my father is.” Cairo spoke in a thin, low hiss.
“It’s six fifteen,” Legend said. “He’ll tell us, but not quickly. And not before Mars sends out a statewide alert for a missing acting sheriff.”
“Won’t know until we try.” Cairo knelt and secured the man in his own handcuffs. “I don’t know about you, but I’m highly motivated to make this a quick conversation. Forty-five minutes is plenty of time.”
“You... think so?” Davidson’s laugh ground my teeth. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
“Get him up.”
We lifted him, dragging his dead weight out the door. Davidson’s head lolled to my side. “This will be fun.”
He smiled. “For me too.”
DANTE
We watched through the window as the Bedlam Boys strolled out of the station, and loaded Davidson into the trunk of his own car.
“Shouldn’t we do something? Stop them?”
I shook my head. “We came here to pick Davidson up and teach him the error of his ways. Whatever they’re going to do to him, he’s got coming for messing up the plan. The Bedlam Boys are supposed to end up on trial for murder, but not for Scott’s. Stupid, shortsighted fuck set us back so far, I’m wondering if he’s double-dealing for Cavendish.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” my companion replied. “Scott always said he wasn’t really one of us. He was just too useful to get rid of.”
“While Sheriff Sharpe is not.” I started the car. “The Bedlam Boys can have him, but they don’t get Jack Sharpe. I promised to kill him if Steven Ellis lived to stand up before the crowd and make his speech. Unlike everyone else in this town, I keep my word.”
Steering away from the curb, I headed off in the opposite direction... to Sheriff Sharpe.
“We still need the Ellises dead. What’s the plan now?”
“The Bedlam Boys can figure out the how and where. The only thing I need to do is provide the motivation.” I dipped my chin. “Paris. We grab her next. Cairo endured Riot Royale to protect her from the Crows. He cares about her, even if he pretends he doesn’t.”
“Wish we could grab one of the Sisters. The judge or the dean.”
“Me too, but they don’t make it easy like the partying Paris, or the alcoholic cop. As long as we can get the Bedlam Boys to do what we want with just the girl, we don’t overplay our hand.”
They shrugged. “Where are we putting the sheriff’s body? We don’t need him to be found when he’s conveniently on vacation. When he goes missing, the cops will spend all their time looking in the wrong place.”
“That would be convenient, but as I said, I’m a man of my word. The town will wake up tomorrow and find Sheriff Sharpe’s mangled body in the town square, surrounded by a ring of fire.”
IVY
One eye swollen shut, but Quinn managed to glare at me just fine through the other one. I’d give this monster something, she didn’t go down easily.
“Where is Sheriff Sharpe!”
“I’m not... telling you... shit,” she wheezed. “But you can go back... and tell Cairo... how you failed.”
Her laugh rattled in her chest. “He’ll die... and it’ll be all your fault. Cairo will never forgive you.”
I shook—the bloody club trembling in my hold. It killed me that she was right. Cairo would never forgive me, because I was too late.
It was seven o’clock.
The party had started. Steven Ellis was stepping up to a podium at that moment to grandstand, and wax on about destroying our town for his profit being the best thing for everybody.
Anger corroded my veins. I wasn’t done with that cheating bastard yet. First I lose my sister for protecting Cairo. Now I lose Cairo because this bald shit stain was protecting her buddies. The Men of Honor had taken so much from me. When would it end?
“Hours of questioning and you didn’t crack.”
“Fucking right I didn’t.” She spat blood in my direction. “Never will.”
“Then, there’s no point asking you about the Black Letter Crew. Who is in it or what you’re planning?”
“None at all.”
I bobbed my head, lips pushed out. “That makes things simple. If I’ve got nothing to lose, Cunningham, I’ve got nothing holding me back. You might as well die now.”
Quinn’s bloody smile slipped. “What? You’re not—”
“I hope you and Zoey enjoy your victory over me in hell.”
“Don’t you dare—”
“Goodbye, Quinn.”
I swung, striking her chest dead center. The hit knocked the air out of her, trapping her scream in her throat. She got no chance to recover before I hit her again. Then again. And again.
I didn’t stop until she did—her screams fading in the night.
DANTE
My car rumbled down the dirt drive. Ten years ago, this place was a charming bed-and-breakfast that didn’t get a lot of visitors, but those that did came back every year on holidays and anniversaries. That is until Foundry came in and offered the elderly couple who owned the place to sell for far more than they thought it worth.
Foundry and Steven Ellis were a leech on this town. They were plague. Poison. But the blame could not be shifted away from the fools who chose to drink. Why did no one else see what we had in Bedlam? This town we built on blood-soaked soil was worth fighting for.
If no one else would do it, we would.
We climbed out of the car, taking rickety, rotting steps to the busted front door. There was no good reason Sheriff Sharpe should enjoy his accommodations. Not after all the trouble this man caused Cavendish and now me.
But now he neared the end of his usefulness, which was why I finally sent that letter to the Bedlam Boys. I thought the man had information I needed, but after weeks of questioning, I could be sure that he’d have given it up if he knew. His only use now was to keep the Bedlam Boys in line, and I had other options for that. At least Paris Keller would be nice to look at.
Together we crossed the threshold, stepping into a long hallway that still held the memory of the faded floral wallpaper, cobweb-covered lamps, and green carpet that had long since turned black and brown from grime.
The filthy carpet muffled our footfalls, and the bag of tools and trash bags my companion dragged behind them. We made sure to stop and get the best for Sheriff Sharpe. His mangled body would haunt his son’s nightmares until he finally blew his brains out. Out of respect, we had to put the effort in.
I shoved into Sharpe’s bare, filthy room, and my grin melted away. Sitting on the chair in the middle of the room, was a pile of cut rope and a gag.
He was gone.
“What? How!” I stormed in, craning my neck around as if the fat, drunk slob was hiding in a corner. “This isn’t possible. Where is he?”
“Davidson must’ve cracked.”
“He wouldn’t crack,” I barked. “Especially not that quickly. Fuck!”
Heaving the chair, I threw it at the wall—busting through the falling-down wood into the other room.
My roar echoed through the forest.
JACQUES
I walked a ways down the forest path until Davidson’s grunts and maniacal laughs were as loud as the owl hooting overhead. Cairo was motivated to get that man talking. Unfortunately, Davidson was just as motivated to see Cairo desperate and suffering. He wasn’t giving anything up.
He was enjoying this too much.
Ivy must have something.
I typed her number in Davidson’s phone. We had to get out of the station fast since Mars was due back at any second. That left no chance to retrieve the phones, wallets, belts, and everything else they took from us during processing.
Davidson’s cell was the only way to reach her once we beat it out of town and took him to the one wooded spot we knew well, Buller’s Den. Though, also unfortunately for us, Davidson wouldn’t give up the code to get into his phone either. I wasted time we didn’t have breaking into it to finally—
“Hello? Who’s this?”
“Ivy, it’s me.”
“Whose phone are you calling me from? Are you at the police station?”
“No. We left and took Davidson with us. We’ve been questioning him for a while, but I can read the time. It’s long past seven o’clock. Tell me if there’s any point in continuing,” I said. “Did you find Quinn? Did she tell you what you needed to know?”
“Of course she did, baby.” Ivy dropped this like someone says they made meatloaf for dinner. “You told me to find her and I did.”
“And... she told you where the sheriff was,” I said slowly.
“She didn’t want to at first, but it turned out repeated blows to her broken ribs was pain even she couldn’t bluff her way through. I’ve got her and the sheriff. Whenever you feel like joining us, love.”
I didn’t speak as she told us where she was, blew a kiss over the phone, and hung up.
All that effort, time, money, and the favor it cost us to get out, and Ivy had the situation in hand.
Cairo kept saying she was colder, smarter, and more manipulative than us. Make that the last day I underestimated her.