by Jan Thompson
“Do we get samples around here?” Nikos laughed.
“Yes, sir.” Corinne showed them the array of fudge next to the ice cream bar. “Which would you like to try?”
“The sweetest ones are the most delicious,” Nikos said.
The hair on Corinne’s arms stood up, and she felt warm all of a sudden. The warmth of seething anger.
Forgive me, Lord. This man should be in jail.
In fact, both Flavian and Nikos should be in jail for what they did to me.
And yet Corinne could not think of how she was going to get justice.
Could she hire a private investigator?
Nope. No money.
All she could think of was running. Hiding.
For the rest of her life.
Nikos pointed to some dark chocolate fudge. “Let me try that first.”
“It’s dark chocolate and has the least sugar,” Corinne said.
“But it’s still sweet though?” His voice lowered. Somehow it sounded calmer.
Yeah, that was the thing that had kept Corinne alive.
Nikos might be crazy and did crazy things—like making her sit outside in the hot sun for fifteen minutes every day—but he still had a soft spot for her.
He wouldn’t let anyone hurt Corinne because he wanted to do that himself.
And he had done it—not for Corinne’s sake, but to get back at his former business partner who had stolen the diamonds from him.
As Corinne cut a small piece of the fudge for Nikos to try, she thought about how it could all go down.
At some point in time, Nikos and Flavian had to confront each other.
Corinne prayed that her children would not be in the crossfire.
Please, Lord. Save us. Spare us.
“You’re right, Gail.” Nikos chewed slowly. “It’s not sweet enough. Give me something sweet.”
Gail.
Corinne hope nobody else heard him.
Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered to use different names at different places. After all her trouble, Nikos had tracked her down to Key Largo.
Whether she went by Gail or Dinah, it made no difference.
All the men in her life had tracked her down.
Including Martin, who knew her by her real name.
Nikos's eyes were on her now, as if prying into her mind to read her thoughts. Corinne kept her breath even and tried not to think about all the things Nikos could do to her. His death threats, particularly.
Right now, though, Nikos could do nothing to her. It wasn’t because she was in public or that it was daylight.
It was because Nikos knew Corinne could lead him to the South African diamonds that Flavian had stolen from him which had led to the fallout in the two men’s business relationship.
Yes, for now, Corinne had the upper hand.
Corinne pointed to another block of fudge. “This one has maple syrup in it, plus pecans.”
“I like maple syrup.” Nikos's eyes brightened like a little boy’s. “Gimme a sample of that, please.”
When Nikos wasn’t high on something, he could communicate like normal people.
Ditto with Flavian.
How on earth had she ended up with these two people, Corinne could never figure out. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she suspected that it might be the effects of sowing and reaping.
She sowed to a life of sin.
She reaped an environment of sin.
My soul is free now, even though I am still stuck in this physical prison.
“…five pounds.” Nikos said.
“Each pound is $24.99,” Corinne said. “Plus tax.”
“Five pounds of the maple syrupy thingy with the pecans in it.”
“Yes, sir.” Corinne weighed five pounds of fudge and boxed it.
Nikos and his men followed Corinne to the register. Corinne rang it up.
Nikos gave her two hundred dollars. “Keep the change.”
“You can put the tips in that jar over there.” Corinne pointed to a glass jar filled with coins.
“You don’t want my money?” Nikos asked.
Corinne didn’t reply. She put the fudge box into a paper bag. Put the receipt in it. “Thank you, sir.”
And don’t come back.
Chapter Sixteen
Martin stepped away from the chocolate shop window as soon as the four men inside turned away from the checkout register and walked toward the front door. He put away his phone just as he heard the door chime.
Not wanting to be seen, he slipped into the apparel store next door, and looked out the window.
The man with the short platinum blond hair and botched tattoos on the back of his arm didn’t say a word to the man who opened the car door for him.
They drove away, but Martin had already taken a photo of the vehicle tag while the three men were in the chocolate shop.
Is Corinne okay?
Martin debated whether to go inside Key Largo Chocolate Shop and ask her. That meant he had to buy more chocolate or something.
Maybe some pralines.
Yeah.
But first, he’d better send those photos to Ming—wait. Ming said he would be unreachable. Martin had to send those photos to Pilar instead.
Okay. If Ming trusts her, I can too.
He sent the photos of the getaway vehicle—haha!—and the other grainy photos he had taken of the men while they were inside the shop.
They seemed to know Corinne.
She wasn’t afraid of them.
Martin wondered if the blond man was the father of Corinne’s unborn child.
“May I help you?” Someone said to him sweetly.
Martin realized he was still standing in the apparel shop. He had to come up with a reason for going into a store and then working on his phone instead of shopping.
He smiled. “Can’t get away from work even when I’m on vacation.”
She smiled.
“Yes, you might be able to help me.” Martin put away his phone for a second time in minutes. “I’m looking for a tee shirt for my dad. He wears XXL, but sometimes those things run small, you know?”
“We have large tee shirts here.” The salesperson led Martin down a row of shirts and sweatshirts and ball caps.
“It has to be one hundred percent cotton. He won’t wear anything else.”
“Of course. We have all sorts of materials.” She pointed. “Cotton here. Blended there.”
“Thank you. And where are the women’s sweatshirts? I’m looking for something for my sister too.”
The girl pointed. “If there’s anything else I can help you with, just let me know.”
“I will. Thank you.”
When she left Martin alone in a sea of pastel-colored shirts, Martin felt overwhelmed. He had never shopped for Dad. What would he wear? Tina would know, but Martin wasn’t about to call her just to ask a simple question.
He decided to buy a tee shirt he himself liked. Maybe Dad would like it too. And if Dad didn’t, Martin could wear it.
Ten minutes and six shirts later—three tee shirts for the summer and three sweatshirts for the mild Savannah winter—Martin walked out into the sunshine and to a text from Pilar. He sent her the photographs he had taken of the men and their car, with a short reply. “You’re welcome.”
Then he walked down to the ice-cream shop and bought a sorbet for the warm afternoon. Instead of walking up and down the main street like a typical tourist, he decided to find a bookstore to while away the entire afternoon.
What choice did he have?
The chocolate shop hadn’t called him back about a job. He wondered if he should call the owner about it. On the other hand, if he worked there, it might complicate things. He might accidentally call Dinah by her real name.
Or something.
Across the busy street, and away from his car, Martin found an antiquarian bookstore with equally old chairs in it where he could sit down to read on his phone.
Unfortunately, the s
ignal inside the old store was intermittent, and Martin found himself walking back outside.
I am really wasting time.
The sun baked the concrete pavement at ninety degrees this afternoon, and Martin knew he could not sit in his car in this sort of weather. His best bet was to return to the hotel.
On the one hand, there was little he could do in Key Largo. Even if he confronted Corinne again, there was no guarantee that she would be upfront with him and answer every question he had.
And he had many questions.
The most neutral ground he had found so far—maybe a safe space—was at church. However, church wasn’t for another six days.
The next best thing that could happen was for Martin to get concrete news from Pilar. However, Pilar also might not share everything with him until her final report, whenever that was.
Martin walked back to his Shelby, feeling alone.
Just me and my car.
He turned on the air-conditioner at full blast, and started to drive south. Key West was only ninety-seven miles from here. Even if he drove slowly, he’d still get there in under three hours. That would take him to about four o’clock in the afternoon.
Maybe he could find a place to sit and stare at the ocean.
To think.
To pray.
And if there was any time left, he’d call his sister. He liked to hear Tina’s voice. It reminded him of Mom’s voice.
I miss Mom.
But we can’t roll back the clock.
Martin realized then that he couldn’t roll back time with Corinne either. Maybe their relationship was best left in the past. Maybe what they had four years ago was all there was to it.
On Sunday at church, Martin had found out that Corinne was the mother of a three-year-old.
On Monday, he found out she was pregnant again.
Two kids and unmarried.
He replayed their conversation at the bench at lunch time.
It was against my will, but I’m keeping the baby.
What did she mean? Had she been…
Martin couldn’t bring himself to think the word, let alone say it aloud—although there was no one else in the car.
“Lord Jesus, I have no idea what Corinne is going through—or has gone through—but I pray that from this point forward, she would be in Your perfect will for her life. I hope that’s a good prayer, Lord.”
He stopped at a gas station to fill up the tank, and to get some cold bottles of water.
Then he drove in silence all the way to Key West.
Chapter Seventeen
By the time Corinne finished Erika’s shift, it was nine o’clock at night. She worried about walking home in the dark, but she didn’t want to spend money calling Uber.
Erika had a family emergency at the last minute, and Corinne felt obligated to fill in for her.
The new hire, Pilar, had offered to give her a ride. Although Corinne had seen her at church on Sunday, she was wary about trusting a stranger. Corinne didn’t want Pilar to know where she lived.
Usually, if she had to work late, she would wait for Erika to get off work, so that she could get a ride home. Sometimes Erika stayed for a late dinner as her payment for the trouble. Most of the time, Erika didn’t want Corinne to pay her back.
If Erika wasn’t available, the owner’s son usually was. Hardin was a nice boy, though Corinne had repeatedly turned down his invitation to go to the movies with him. Thing is, not only was he Sandra’s son, he was also at least ten years younger than Corinne. She was sure Hardin wasn’t ready for her problems.
Tonight, none of that mattered. Neither Erika nor Hardin was available.
Corinne would have to close up the shop and walk home.
The back parking lot was dark since one of the streetlights was broken. Corinne decided to leave from the front entrance instead.
The sidewalk was crowded with tourists. Corinne could hear bar music come from up and down the street on both sides of her. People talking, laughing. Cars honking, engines running.
The night air was warm, and Corinne wanted to take off her long-sleeved blouse. Nobody would see her bruises in the dark, she figured.
Her arm muscles were still sore every now and then, but the generic ointment she had bought at the pharmacy helped quite a bit. As soon as she reached Wanda’s house, she would get into a hot tub. She’d feel better after that.
Crossing a corner, Corinne debated whether to take the short cut. She could be home in twenty minutes if she took the lane to her left. If she kept walking, there would be streetlights, but it would take her another fifteen minutes of navigating through more roads.
She hesitated.
Lord Jesus, which way should I go?
Against a bad feeling, Corinne turned left.
A few people walked unsteadily past her, smelling like booze. A couple of catcalls later, Corinne wanted to turn around and run back to the light.
But she didn’t.
Her feet kept going.
Directly into the shadows.
Her phone rang, startling her. It was Erika, to Corinne’s relief.
Chapter Eighteen
Beyond tired, Martin had arrived back in Key Largo just in time to see Pilar leave the backlot of the Key Largo Chocolate Shop.
Thanks to Martin’s voluntary work this afternoon, Pilar had been able to send the license plate to her contacts. Obviously grateful, Pilar texted Martin—while he was sitting on a public beach in Key West—that Corinne was getting off work at nine o’clock tonight and had refused any ride home.
Something between the lines had told Martin that Pilar could use an extra set of eyes.
No, Martin had not had any special training, but he was bigger and more muscular than Pilar. He could, technically, be of assistance.
Somehow.
Two hours and a few minutes after that text message, Martin was back in Key Largo. He grabbed a quick takeout dinner somewhere in town, and ate in the car as he waited for Pilar to leave the shop.
He followed Pilar around.
Turned out that Pilar was waiting, just as he was.
Martin exchanged text messages with Pilar. He didn’t find out much about Pilar, since he did most of the texting. However, he did find out that Pilar had grown up in Florida, and was a friend of one of the private investigators who worked for Ming’s friend in Savannah. Hugo Something. He had been the person to introduce Ming to Pilar.
Pilar had been living in Miami for a few years, trying to establish her own private investigation firm. Then she moved to Charleston to work security for a couple of years before returning to Miami. It had been in Charleston that she had met Ming, when she was working on an assignment for Hu Knows, Inc. Pilar and Ming kept in touch, even after she had moved home to Miami to care for her elderly parents.
Their conversation had ended when they saw Corinne lock the front door of the chocolate shop and started walking.
“Bad idea to walk alone, Corinne,” Martin said aloud in his car.
In front of him, Pilar was in her charcoal SUV with a dent in the back fender. She was slowing down a bit. So did Martin.
At the street corner, Corinne climbed into a SUV.
Under the street light, Martin thought the driver looked like Erika from the chocolate shop.
Suddenly, a van pulled past Martin’s car, sideswiped Pilar’s SUV ahead of him, and rammed into Erika’s vehicle.
Martin slammed on his brakes so he didn’t plough into Pilar, who lost control of her vehicle, ramming it into a parked car.
Under the street lights, Pilar’s airbag deployed.
Martin heard a couple of gunshots, and a woman screaming. Then he heard vehicle doors slam.
The van took off.
Martin pulled up behind Pilar’s vehicle and called 911. He ran toward the driver’s side and opened the door. Pilar reached out, and Martin helped her out of her SUV.
“Let’s go!” Pilar shook all over. “You drive.”
They scram
bled back into Martin’s car. He floored the gas pedal, and they were off.
“There! The van just turned down that street.” Pilar pointed with a trembling hand.
She still seemed to be shaken up.
Watching her pull out a handgun freaked out Martin. “What are you doing?”
“Just drive.” Her voice was calming down.
And drive, Martin did. He wished he hadn’t painted his car bright tangerine. Now it was hard to hide in the night.
The van accelerated and so did Martin.
“I can’t see the plates. Can you?” Pilar asked.
“I’m doing well not to lose control of my car.” He could push ninety or maybe ninety-five miles per hour, but he had never gone beyond that on this poor old car, an original Shelby.
A bright light in his rearview mirror caught Martin’s attention. “Someone’s tailing us.”
Pilar glanced back. “I wonder who.”
The SUV didn’t try to pass them. It came dangerously close to Martin—so close that he could see the passenger’s face.
“Looks like the same guys from this afternoon.” Martin kept his hands on the steering wheel.
He had told Pilar about the drive-by at lunch, and sent her the photograph of the license place he had taken.
“I’m still waiting for information,” Pilar said.
“Don’t let them see your gun. They might get trigger happy,” Martin warned.
The SUV suddenly swerved toward Martin’s car. He overcorrected and his Shelby screeched into the emergency lane. The SUV came at them again and rammed the side of Martin’s car.
“Are they on our side?” Martin asked, flooring the accelerator.
“I don’t know—”
The SUV hit the Shelby again, and this time Martin lost control of his car. One more push, and the car was in the ditch by the side of the road.
The airbags deployed.
“Not again!” Pilar’s voice was muffled.
New lights appeared in Martin’s rearview mirror. “What now?”
Blue flashing lights.
He heard some sort of whoop whoop sound.
Up ahead, the SUV and black van disappeared into the night.
Martin was too stunned to pray.