Page 2

I put on a pair of sunglasses even though the sun has set and cross the street to Madison’s house.
Several minutes pass between when I start knocking on the door and when it finally opens.
“Albert Prescott?” I say, when Maddie’s father opens the door.
He looks like he’s seen a ghost, so I know he knows why I’m here. I may be much younger than he would have been, but I’m the spitting image of my father—though with perhaps a bit more ink than my old man had.
“S-Stryker? I-it can’t be… I… you…”
“Aidan,” I say, holding out a hand to shake his. On hearing my first name, he realizes who I actually am.
He awkwardly shakes my hand then moves aside for the inevitable. I step inside the house and let out a low whistle that echoes in the cavernous hall as I look around.
“IRS take all this?” I ask, looking at the bare walls and places where furniture filled the space only weeks ago.
He doesn’t bother asking how I know about the IRS. the Stryker corporation has a reputation for knowing things, after all. We should. Our front business is security and surveillance—at least it has been for the last decade.
“Most of it,” he says. “Some stuff they didn’t want… personal affects and such are in storage.”
I nod. “Let’s handle this in your office.”
I catch Madison’s mother from the corner of my eye. She thinks she’s hiding, but there just isn’t enough left in this house to hide behind. I look directly at her so she knows she’s been seen, and she scuttles away like a crab to the back of the house. I follow Albert into the office.
“Beautiful family, you’ve got,” I say as I look at a framed photograph on his desk. Albert, his wife, Madison from maybe ten years ago when she was still a teenager, an older boy who has since moved away, and a black lab.
He tenses as my gaze lingers on his daughter.
“That photo is over a decade old,” he says, as though he’ll dissuade me from Madison, as though he thinks I ‘like them young’. No, Albert, that’s your particular vice, not mine. I’ve seen the porn he watches. Barely legal. Just enough plausible deniability when everyone knows these girls are absolutely not street legal.
I sigh. “I’m sorry to have to say this, but it’s time for you to pay up.”
“I’m sorry?” he says it like he didn’t hear me, as though he can wriggle off my hook so easily. No, my friend. Who do you think sold you out to the IRS? I’ve been waiting for my moment.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, Mr. Prescott, but I inherited the family business a couple of years ago. I was going through the ledgers, and it appears that you owe my family—technically me now—a quarter of a million dollars.”
He laughs almost hysterically. “That was years ago, your father forgave it…”
“I’m afraid he didn’t. It’s on the ledger, Mr. Prescott.” If my father had cleared it, it wouldn’t be on the ledger, and we both know this.
I spot an old baseball bat, glove, and ball sitting on the floor in one corner of the room next to some of Madison’s brother’s baseball trophies. I pick it up and drag it along the wall. Just a little menace so he knows I’m serious. I’m sure he knows what comes next.
He puts his hands up in a placating gesture. “Mr. Stryker, as you can see, I’m having a bit of a… a financial situation right now… so if you could…just…”
I do appreciate him addressing me with respect, but he should know I’m not some lightweight. I’m not some kid to be played with. I smash the photo on the desk, as well as three other photos on the wall behind him. The glass rains down as he cowers beneath it.
“I’m afraid, I’m going to need to collect that money now.”
Albert gets down on his knees and actually starts crying. Crying. “Please, I… can’t we work something out?”
“It’s been due for a very long time, Mr. Prescott. The interest alone is… staggering by this point.”
“I understand it’s just… I need…”
I lean the baseball bat against the desk and sigh. I think he’s ready.
“I might be willing to offer you a trade.”
“A-a trade?”