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“The mother?” I ask, looking up.
“She left. After we couldn’t find her, she left. Said it was my fault.”
That’s fucked.
“What’s her name?” I edge on. Searching for a stammer or hesitation.
“Gabrielle. Gabrielle Evans.” There's no twitch in his lip or sudden blink to disclose a lie.He’s telling the truth.But I still dig further.
“Bedford!” I call out by pressing the earpiece.
“Did you all make it yet?” Bedford cuts through.
“No. Not yet. I need you to look up a name. Tell me what you find. Gabrielle Evans.”
Anita cuts her eyes to me. I can see a whirlwind of questions pooling on the horizon. A second later, Bedford comes back.
“Gabrielle Evans. A thirteen-year-old honor roll student disappeared in broad daylight around 4 p.m. She was last seen walking home from school. Police have found no evidence or a body.”
I knew he wasn’t lying, but you can never be too damn sure. “Why should we trust you?” I probe, handing the photo back to him.
“You can. I’ll prove it.” He holds up a steady palm again, taking his phone out of his pocket, and he dials a number. He puts it to his ear, waiting for an answer.
“Yes. It’s done. He fought the hell out of us, but he's dead. Along with the rest of the crew.” He keeps a blank stare on me.
I raise a brow, looking back at Anita, who keeps a dubious expression. After the phone call, he hangs up. Stuffing his phone back in his pocket.
I point at the pocket. “Are you going to explain what the hell that was?”
“If he thinks you're dead, then it’ll become easier to strike him without him seeing it coming. I hate him just as much as you do, and I can help you find the kids,” he spits out. “He trusts me. I want nothing more than to see him six feet under.”
“We don’t need your help killing him. His death will be inevitable. Priority number one is getting those kids back home safely.” Sirens sound out from outside. I rush to the window, looking out to see police cars parked around the entrance. Some make their way inside already.
Anita wipes the gun with her dress before tossing it. “What do we do about him?”
Jax watches us tentatively, his shoulders squared and raised.
“You give us a solid location for the kids. Then, we’ll discuss finding your daughter,” I say, gripping Anita's elbow and dragging her along with me.
He nods with satisfaction, following my direction. “How will I contact you?”
I look over my shoulder. “We’ll find you.”