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“See? Good thing I got it out of there, then, huh?” I grin and poke him in the bony chest. “Now it’s your turn to do me a favor. Do you think you can do that?”
He gives me an eager nod. I smile up at Jade.
See? So damn easy.
I hike a thumb over my shoulder, in the direction of the front door. “Go take a look out the front door, will you? I need you to tell me how many people are out there.”
I could pull up the footage on the Ring app, but it’s like looking through a fish eye, the scale distorted and blurry around the edges. I need the full, 180-degree view, which means I need actual eyes on the street.
The kid takes off so fast, he’s like a cartoon version of himself, running in place for a second or two before his rubber soles find traction on the floor. He disappears into the living room and I push to a stand.
“I’m not blind,” Beatrix says, glaring across the marble. “I saw you stick that stupid marshmallow up your sleeve.”
Of course Captain Obvious saw. From where she was sitting, she would have seen everything—me, pulling the marshmallow from the side pocket of my backpack and sliding it up my sleeve, the way I shook it out behind her brother’s ear.
But her anger is a little misdirected. If I cared enough to explain it to her, I’d tell her the person she’s really mad at is her little brother, for buddying up to the enemy.
Baxter returns in a flurry of footsteps, his cheeks bright with pride, with self-importance. “There’s two ladies down there talking, and a biker, and a big brown truck that almost ran into a mailbox.”
“Good job. Those talking ladies. Are they moving or standing still?”
Baxter gives an exaggerated bob of his shoulders. “I don’t know. Want me to go look?”
I nod, hold up a finger. “But this time, I want you to stay there. Tell me everybody who’s out front, and then when they’re all gone and nobody else is coming, I want to know that, too. When you tell us the coast is clear, we’ll meet you at the stairs. Got it?”
“Got it.” He whirls around and takes off.
I look up and Jade is staring at me. Back straight, cheeks red, perspiration shining up her perfect skin. Silent but for the steady dragon breaths firing up and out her nose. I’m going to need to watch her, too. First chance she gets, this woman is going to come at me.
“The ladies are still talking,” Baxter hollers from the front door. “They’re laughing and talking and this is gonna take forever.”
“Tell me when they start to move, okay? And if anybody else comes by, I want to know.” I heave my backpack onto a shoulder, stepping to Jade’s side of the counter. “Get ready. When Baxter gives us the all clear, I need you two tomove.”
From the other room, an update: “One of the ladies is turning around. Oh wait, now she’s going the other way.”
I gesture for Jade and Beatrix to get off their chairs, then nudge them with the gun until they’re flush against the edge of the dividing wall. One more step and they’ll be standing in the living room, for the ladies and the biker and the big brown truck to see.
“The ladies are crossing the street now,” Baxter announces, “but they’re walking real slow.”
“Are they gone?”
“Almost. Allllmost. Yep, now they’re gone. Everybody’s gone.”
I jam my gun into Jade’s spine and hustle them to the stairs.
C A M
3:41 p.m.
Last I knew, George lived in a brick-front town house, one of the overpriced ones that ballooned like mushrooms around a Whole Foods in a busy northern suburb. I don’t remember the exact address—after Flavio sent George packing, I blocked his number and deleted every trace of him from my phone—but I’ll recognize the place when I see it.
Waze detours me around the perimeter’s bumper-to-bumper traffic and dumps me onto Roswell Road, where I run up against a sea of brake lights in Sandy Springs proper. Nothing but gridlock, wall-to-wall cars in both directions.
My blood pressure, already flirting with the danger zone, spikes into dizzying territory. Especially once the light up ahead flips to green, but not a single tire moves because there’s nowhere for any of us to go. How the hell do people live in this town?
I stew in the gridlock, while George’s last words play on repeat in my mind, hurled over his shoulder on his way out the door.
You’ll pay for this, asshole. When you least expect it, I’m going to make you pay.