Page 13

Fancy

Moving behind him I see the parked car and two men climbing out.

“Bastards. That’s one of Adorno’s cars that his goons use. I think one of them was holding Phil the night they murdered him.” Crossing to the coat closet, I grab the baseball bat I keep there.

“Whoa, whoa, slugger.” Kade wraps his arms around me from behind, trapping my arms. “We want to get out of here without being seen.”

“Aren’t they here because they know we’re here?”

Rico shakes his head. “No. Watch their body language. They just climbed out of the car and are talking. No urgency. Not even paying attention to their surroundings. My guess is they’re here to check the house out or see if maybe you’re here.”

He pulls a cheap looking phone from his pocket, hits 911 and hands it to me. “Tell them someone is breaking into your neighbor’s house and you’re afraid. Give them your address twice and hang up.”

I make the report as instructed.

At the back door he pauses. “Stay between us. If something goes down you hang on to Kade, he’ll get you out.”

Outside, we hear sirens in the distance. We get to our vehicle without incident. Rico and Kade in the front, I’m in the back seat of the SUV.

“Now what?” I ask.

“We’re taking you to our secure house. It provides better security, and it will be easier for Kade to watch over you. The department is sending a protection detail to get you out of town late tomorrow.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he says.

“No. I am not going anywhere until I identify Phil’s killer. I am the best bet you have. Have they sent you any new photos of Adorno’s men from the casino?”

“Not yet.”

“Diego’s friend is still trying to help?”

“Yeah, but there’s no camera access that he can get to inside or outside by the doors. Adorno’s smart. He doesn’t keep any online records of staff or business either.”

“All the men involved with Phil’s death were at the casino that night.

I don’t know their names, but I’ve seen the two that were holding Phil around for a long time.

I would be able to identify them in pictures or a line up.

The man who actually killed Phil, I don’t think I’ve seen before, but I can identify him.

The overhead door light shone right on him when he looked at me.

“What about a sketch artist? Would that help you search for them?” I ask.

“Maybe.”

“So if I can identify them, you can arrest them, right?”

Rico clears his throat. “Once the office has names and photos they’ll start building a case.”

“We both know that Adorno didn’t get where he is by being sloppy. He’ll destroy any evidence and loose ends will disappear, bodies never found.”

“We’ve got a pretty good track record, babe. We’ll get Adorno,” Rico says.

“I know you’ll try. I want Adorno. But I really want the killer and the two holding Phil to pay. One way or another.”

Preferably my way, my hand. They took my mother and Phil. The anger inside me is like a festering wound that started with mom’s death and now is spreading like cancer. Phil was all I had left. My one bright spot of a shitty childhood.

Kade, looks over the seat. “We’ll take care of this, Fancy. Trust us.”

“I do.” But you shouldn’t trust me.

We arrive at a moderate ranch house in a middle-class neighborhood. Rico drives into the garage and Kade immediately climbs out. “Stay put until we check all is clear.”

A few minutes later they return and grab all our bags. I’m still clutching my backpack.

Inside they show me to what looks like the master suite. “Get comfortable. You want to sleep?”

“No. I’m too worked up. I think I’ll shower and change. Is that okay?

‘Sure, sweetheart.” Kade says, leaning in and kissing my forehead. “We need to check in then we’ll start breakfast. Take your time.”

Rico gives me a hug before they both walk out, closing the door behind them.

After putting away the clothes they bought me and the few I grabbed from home, I take my backpack into the bathroom and lock the door.

A jacuzzi tub and multi head shower stall big enough for a party are on the opposite side of the room. The custom-built vanity with makeup mirror is aligned with the double sinks. After my closet-sized bathroom, I could get used to this.

Setting my backpack on the countertop I pull out the lock box I’d retrieved from under the bed and open it. A picture of Mom, Phil, and me wearing my graduation gown lays on top. My almost family. Mom broke it off with him less than a month later.

There’s a few more photos, one of Phil and me when I turned twenty-one and below that a couple of him and I when I was little that he’d printed from his phone for me.

After Mom died, he shared a bunch of photos he’d taken.

I don’t know if Mom even knew he had them.

Photos of her, a few of him and her, me as I aged.

Elementary school, playground, junior and senior high.

I hadn’t realized how many pictures he had of me from over the years.

I was surprised at how important they were to him.

Only then did I realize I was like his child as much as he was like my father. The father of my heart. We became even closer after that with weekly dinners and more phone calls. He became the father I’d longed for, looking out for me, loving me. And it got him killed.

God, I hope the photos are still on his computer. We have to find it. Maybe Kade or his friend can somehow retrieve them for me from the cloud. I have so little... The tears wash over me like a tsunami.

Shoving the box back into the backpack, I strip off my clothes and stumble into the shower, giving in to the loss, the pain, the dreams.