Deeply.
Holy smokes. The realization crash-landed into me that Colin wasn’t just the man I was having fun with. He was more to me than that. And even if I couldn’t have it, I realized I wanted more than these nights with him.
This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be my shot at fun.
Which made this new situation that much harder. Because I’d just spent the last hour in a strange state of suspended animation as I counseled a boy on how to reconnect with the family of the man I was involved with.
Never in my life had I wanted to clone myself like I did now. Never had I so badly needed there to be two of me at once.
23
Colin
I closed the math app on my laptop, pleased with the progress that Rex had made. After winning the basketball court bet, I had expected some resistance, but he’d taken quickly to the business math we worked on, and had decided to sign up for a math placement test at the community college in just a few days.
As a reward for all his hard work, Rex now attacked a fleet of zombies as he played video games with Tyler and Elle’s son, Alex.
Alex pointed, practically stabbing the screen. “Get that one. Do it now!” he shouted at Rex.
My heart lurched for a second, and it had nothing to do with zombies. I felt a pang of sadness for Alex, understanding him in a new way. I’d lost a father too.
We’d responded in different ways. I’d turned to drugs. He’d turned inward.
But somehow we’d both found our way to the other side.
What was the other side for Elle though?
Would she ever allow herself to be on it? I understood her need to protect her son, but I feared she’d never truly let herself be happy again.
“Rex, look out! There’s another one. You have to book it to the safe house!” The warning came from Rex’s little brother. Rex narrowed his eyes in fierce concentration, jamming his thumb hard on the controller, firing away at a zombie and blasting him to smithereens.
“Oh yeah! You did it! Man. You don’t suck as much as I thought,” Alex said to Rex, then punched him on the shoulder.
Rex craned his neck to catch my attention. “Hey, man! Got any tips for us on this game?”
“You know anything about video games?” Alex asked as I stuffed my laptop into my messenger bag.
“Video games are in my wheelhouse.”
Alex’s eyes lit up, eager. “Can I have a tip? I want to up my game.”
Do something cool for Elle’s kid? That was a no-brainer—I liked working with the boys, and I liked that I could be a positive influence rather than a bad one. “Here’s your tip. It’s all strategy. You just devise a strategy and follow it. But don’t be afraid to pivot if things change, and then to pivot again,” I said, letting my own advice register. Because as I pondered these words, I realized they might apply to my approach with Elle.
My strategy had been to take my time, to practice patience, to hold back on emotions.
The approach had worked, to a point. Each encounter we’d had was hotter than the last, and each moment together seemed to show us how good a time we could have. The question was, when would it be time to let her know what I felt for her? I sensed she felt it too, and maybe she needed the same thing again—someone to make her feel safe before she took a chance.
As the boys returned to the game, I tapped the back of the couch and told them I’d see them later in the week. On the way out, I walked past the vending machine. The Diet Cherry Coke had been restocked. A rarity. I plugged some quarters in and snagged a cold one, then stopped by Elle’s office to say a quick goodbye.
She loved Diet Cherry Coke in the afternoon. A pick-me-up. Yes, it was a small thing. But wasn’t it the little gestures in life that often mattered the most?
The door was shut. I knocked and heard some rustling and the squeak of a chair. There was no answer. I waited ten seconds before I knocked once more.
“I’m busy now.” Her voice was tinny from behind the walls.
I set the can on the floor and left, sending her a text that the soda was from me.
A few minutes later, as I drove home, my phone rang with a call from an international number. I swiped over the screen immediately, eager for the information Ryan had.
“How’s Johnny Cash?”
I laughed deeply. Only my dog-loving brother would focus on the four-legged beast first. “I’m on my way home to take care of him now. He is a prince among canines. I took him to the dog park the other night, and all the lady dogs ran up to him,” I said into the speakerphone as I slowed at a red light.
“They can’t help themselves around him. You can use him as a wingman if you think he can help you land a woman. Wait. What’s the latest with that woman from the benefit?”
I tapped the steering wheel and blew out a long stream of air. “Like I said before you left, it’s complicated. Speaking of complicated, you know that kid who was following Shan? I’ve got great news for you.” I told my brother what I’d learned an hour ago about the Protectors. “So it’s all good. We don’t need to worry about him,” I said, pressing the gas as the light changed. “Now, why don’t you tell me why the hell you’re calling from Germany at midnight your time when you should be focusing on your woman?”
“Don’t you worry. I am focusing on my woman, but you will not believe what she found out the other night.”
“Lay it on me.”
“Sophie was jet-lagged and couldn’t sleep. So she was working on deciphering the rest of the pattern, the sewing pattern that Mom gave me before she went to prison.”
I clenched my jaw. “I still can’t believe she asked you to do that, asked you to keep that dog jacket pattern like a trophy, knowing that you believed in her and held out hope she’d be found innocent and freed one day.”
“Yeah, Sophie cracking the code that it wasn’t really a sewing pattern at all, but Mom’s dirty breadcrumb trail back to her crime was what it took to open my eyes to the truth,” Ryan said.
“So, the first row of the pattern revealed the addresses of Stefano, the shooter, and the two alleged accomplices—the broker and the getaway driver—in Dad’s murder. What else did Sophie find out? What were the rest of the lines?” I asked.
“It’s a list of more addresses. They had missing numbers and symbols, but she worked on it and she figured out all of them. She gave it to John, and when he put it together with the leads he’s been looking into, he believes the pattern reveals a hell of a lot more than just those two guys. You better be sitting down,” Ryan said, his voice heavy and intense.
I slowed the car, pulled over, and cut the engine. “Talk to me. What is it?”
Ryan heaved a sigh, then told me the newest wrinkle.
I was damn glad I’d pulled over. My head fell back against the headrest, the shock of Ryan’s new revelation echoing in my bones.
When I reached my home and leashed up my brother’s dog, my phone buzzed once more. Elle had messaged me at last. But when I read her note, frustration seared me to a crisp.
Elle: I’m so sorry. I have to cancel tomorrow. Something came up.
24
Colin
Johnny Cash trotted perfectly by my side as Michael pulled up in his black BMW, a mountain bike on the roof. I slowed my pace and met Michael as he stepped out of his car. My brother must have come straight from the office—he wore his usual striped button-down, tie, and dark pants. When he reached me, he whipped off his sunglasses, his cool blue gaze sharp as ever. “Did you talk to Ryan? You ready for the detective?”
I pushed my palm down as if to say Let’s take it easy. “It’s just a talk. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
Michael clapped me on the back. “I know that, man. I was just asking. Just making sure.”
I brushed off Michael’s hand. “I get it. But the point is I’m neither worried, nor surprised about anything related to our mother,” I said, though that wasn’t entirely true. I’d been shocke
d by the news Ryan had shared about her, but only for the first few minutes. At this point I was accustomed to hearing that she was a less than stellar citizen.
What had me so prickly was Elle’s cancellation of our plans tomorrow with zero explanation. Nothing. Not a word. That confused the hell out of me, especially because I had no right to ask her what was up. We weren’t a thing yet. She’d made no promises, and I had no reason to feel slighted.
Except . . . she’d been giving off some serious vibes the last night we were together.
Maybe that had been wishful thinking on my part. Maybe I’d been reading too much into one small, sweet little moment. And maybe I’d read too much into the “see you more” line.
Time to wise up and accept what she would give, instead of angling for something I couldn’t have.
Best to focus on my present, and that involved a detective, who parked his Nissan LEAF at the curb in front of my house. I nudged Michael, then dropped my voice. “I never would have pegged the detective as the owner of an electric car.”
Michael laughed. “Doesn’t he know he’s required to drive a sedan? Four doors, dark blue, unmarked. Just like in the movies.”
John walked over to the two of us, took off his shades, and said hello. Johnny Cash barked at the man. I tugged on the dog’s leash, giving him a quick correction. “It’s okay, Johnny Cash. If you’re nice to him, the detective won’t throw us in the pokey,” I said.
John rubbed the dog’s head. “Nice name for a dog. And I don’t have any plans to throw you in the pokey.” He paused, then added, “At least not today.” John shifted his gaze to Michael. “Good to see you again too, Mr. Sloan.”
Michael nodded. “I know you were planning on talking to Colin, but I see no reason why I can’t be here.”
John nodded and shot him a closed-mouth smile. “Not a problem. Happy to chat with both of you about the latest. Do you want to talk inside? Or chat on the porch?”
My street was quiet now, so I opted for the porch.
John dived right into the heart of his visit.
25
John
It had been a helluva week. Working around the clock. Gathering info. Talking to witnesses.
“Here’s the deal.” I took a piece of paper from my pocket then spread open a copy of the sewing pattern on my lap. The dog lifted his snout to sniff it. “We knew from Sophie’s first attempts that this pattern contained more than just a few names. Now that she’s figured out all the addresses in it, we were able to track them to who lived in those houses at the time of the murder. We believe this was a drug dealing route,” I told them.
“Surprise, surprise,” Michael said. “Inmate 347-921 was a drug dealer, in addition to being a murderer. What next? She ran a child pornography ring? Oh, wait. She probably operates an underground sex slave business from prison.” Michael shoved a hand through his hair. “Every time it’s something else with her.”
That was part and parcel of my job, delivering news no one wanted to hear. A pang of sympathy played inside me. “Sorry to be the bearer of more bad news,” I said, then moved on to the facts. “We believe these men were at the top of the pattern not only because of their potential involvement in the murder, but because of their role in the drug ring, and we think below them is the list of people Dora was selling to regularly. Presumably, she hid her route in the pattern so no one in her family would know what she was doing. We’d previously thought Stefano was her dealer, but it seems he was a step up. He was her supplier and provided the drugs she sold. That’s why she owed him money—for the drugs she’d procured from him.” I turned to Colin, hoping he could shed some light. God, I hoped he could. “But we don’t believe Stefano was the one who recruited her into the ring. Do you know anything about how she got involved? Can you remember anything?”
Michael raised a hand and cut in before his brother could say a word. “Why are you asking him?”
“Because of the friends he had when he was younger,” I said, answering in a cool, even tone. That’s how it needed to be. We needed to traffic in facts in order to crack this. “That’s why I’m here talking to him.”
“I’ll answer it,” Colin said firmly, taking the reins. “The answer is no. I have no clue how she got involved in dealing drugs. I had no idea she was selling, but it doesn’t surprise me, because she was a fucked-up, desperate woman. But if you’re asking for details about the drug business the Royal Sinners were in, I’ll tell you anything I know. I’ve been up-front with you from day one, Detective. When I was thirteen, I hung with the wrong crowd. I was friends with the wrong people, and yes, I was friends with the brother of one of the men whose address was in the pattern. TJ Nelson’s brother Danny. He was fifteen and I was thirteen, and when Ryan told me TJ’s name was in that pattern, I was shocked—and frankly embarrassed that I was ever friends with his brother. We did stupid shit. Egged houses, TP’d them. That was as far as we went. But we knew what the older guys were doing because we heard them talk.”
“What did you hear?” I asked, a kernel of hope rising inside me. This whole case had popped up again because of what Bianca Rosa—Stefano’s girlfriend at the time—had overheard. You never knew where information ignited, and what it would lead to. I had to chase those leads to see where they’d take me.
“They were always talking about territory. They claimed ‘hoods’ for fencing their stolen goods, and when they moved deeper into drugs, they claimed sections of neighborhoods for selling those too,” Colin said, outlining what had gone down. “They marked everything that was theirs with gang logos, insignia, personal graffiti. They’d have a field day on Facebook today with the way they tagged stuff.”
I nodded, since all of this added up. “The gang culture, oddly enough, loves social media. They post pictures of themselves online, on Instagram and Facebook, holding wads of bills from their drug sales or showing off electronics they stole.”
“That’s what it was all about then, too, in an old-school way.”
I scratched my chin, sliding into the next question, a mission-critical one. “What do you know about TJ Nelson?”
“He’s the guy you think brokered Stefano’s hits, right?” Michael chimed in.
He was right—after my sister uncovered the code in the pattern, and Ryan delivered some fresh details on potential names, I’d had enough info to pinpoint the suspected accomplices, thanks in part also to the initial intel from Stefano’s long-ago girlfriend.
The men in question were a pair of cousins, TJ and Kenny Nelson. And I believed they’d helped Jerry Stefano pull off the murder. When Stefano went to prison, he never gave up their names. But once I’d started working the case now, new evidence pointed to their roles—TJ as the broker and Kenny as the getaway driver.
“We think that’s a strong possibility. We want to know more about him, and how big his role was,” I said.
“Big? Like he was a mastermind of the whole thing?” Colin asked, arching a brow.
But I had to keep certain details close to the vest, including that one. “There are a number of possibilities we’re looking into. Tell me what you know about him.”
I’d like to say I’d been waiting patiently to learn more about TJ Nelson, but that’d be a lie. I was as eager as a kid at an ice-cream truck in the summertime to learn all I could about that man.
That man who I suspected had committed terrifying crimes.
26
Colin
I sighed deeply, rewinding to my days as a thirteen-year-old, picturing TJ Nelson, the towering older brother with the short mohawk, gold earring, and menacing smile. His arms were made of steel, and he had a head for strategy. He was always plotting. “What I remember overhearing was TJ talking about who was handling what in the Royal Sinners. He was very focused on which guys were responsible for which areas. The territories, they called them,” I said. “And they also talked about the protection of them.”
“Of the territories?” John asked, his voice tight and clippe
d, a shift from his previous tone, as if he was holding something in.
“Yes. I didn’t have any of the details, but that’s some of what I overheard when he was around. Who handled the fences. Who picked up the drugs. That sort of thing.” I held up my hands like an innocent man, telling the whole truth. “I had no clue my mom was selling, dealing, or using. But given what you figured out with that pattern, maybe that’s what she was doing talking to them. Maybe she was negotiating her territory for selling.”
“Seems she got a prime one,” John said. “Any idea why she would?”
“No idea. Except that she was desperate, and maybe she had some strings to pull, because she was willing to do whatever she had to do to get what she wanted. That’s what I know to be true about her. Maybe she and Stefano were working together,” I said, because that seemed plausible to me.
Michael jumped back in. “What’s going on with the Royal Sinners these days, Detective? I follow the news—I’ve been reading up on them, seeing more and more stories about them rising in power. More crimes, more problems, more trouble. More organized, too, than their rival gangs. I keep hearing ‘Don’t mess with the Sinners.’”
A somber look flitted into the detective’s eyes. “You’re hearing right. They’re a top priority for Metro, and my men are working hard on gang activity enforcement and prevention. We’ve got an anonymous tip line for concerned citizens to report suspected gang activity, an anti-gang initiative, and strong public education. We’re doing everything we can on the enforcement front. Last week, we had a few more arrests of Royal Sinners members for grand theft auto, and some from rival gangs for burglary.”
“Glad to hear it’s being taken seriously. Some of my other clients have also been asking about it and increasing their security services based on what they’ve been reading in the news,” Michael said. “They want to protect themselves, and to know the authorities are working hard on it too.”
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