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Unable and unwanting to speak, I just nod. He gives me an awkward smile and continues up the steps. I watch him go, feeling dizzy with disbelief at the encounter.
What just happened?
Why is he so different?
I shake my head, trying to clear it, and continue down the steps. My car is parked a block away, and I focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right. It's all I can do to keep moving forward.
As I reach for my keys, I feel something in my purse. A piece of paper. Frowning, I pull it out. It's folded neatly, creased with precision. I don't remember putting anything in my pocket. Then it hits me — Abrams. He must have slipped it in when we bumped into each other.
My hands shake as I unfold the note. What could he possibly have to say to me? Is it a threat? A warning? My heart pounds as I read the sloppy, cramped handwriting:
Emily,
I know you're scared. It doesn’t have to be that way. We can fix this. Meet me at Reggie’s Diner in one hour. I can help you make this all go away.
I read it again and again. What does he mean? He can help? Is this some kind of trap? But why would he bother? He already has all the power in this situation.
My eyes drift back to the courthouse, squinting against the sun. Abrams is long gone, swallowed up by the imposing building. I should tell Keith about this. I should rip up the note and forget it ever happened.
Instead, I carefully fold it and slip it back into my purse.
This is what I have to do. If it really means I can get rid of these charges, I have to see this through. And, if it doesn’t, I’ll just walk away.
But I have to take the chance.
For the entire remaining hour, I drive, circling block after block close to the diner while my mind anxiously circles those questions — why is he doing this? What does he want from me? Should I call Hunter?
And all those questions I dismiss. I have to handle this on my own; Hunter would probably tell me to avoid this meeting, to stick to my lawyer’s advice, and I can’t do that.
This is my best chance.
Resolute and with the hour over, I drive and park at Reggie’s Diner. My door slams behind me with solid self-assurance, and I stride to the door with my chin level and my heart set. It’s just a meeting. Just coffee — which I desperately need anyway — and perhaps a chance to save my life.
I’m set until I cross the threshold of the diner and see who’s waiting for me.
Then my blood turns cold.
It’s Jay.
Chapter Forty
Hunter
“When we called you here, we didn’t think there’d be company.” Havoc’s eyes pointedly drift to the baby in my lap. He’s sizing him up like a rival, or an intellectual adversary. Which just might be true. “You sure he’s cool? We can trust him?”
“He’ll be cool. Might have some commentary on your plan if he doesn’t like it. But you’re open to a little healthy criticism, right?” I bounce Charlie a little, he giggles.
Mayhem nods with enthusiasm. “Absolutely. Any brilliant plan should be able to stand up to criticism. And real criticism only improves a plan, helps you shape it, grow it, so if he has anything to share, we welcome his feedback.”
Charlie burps. Twice.
“Oh really? Is that what you think?” Havoc says.
Charlie laughs.
The two of them nod, arms crossed. Mayhem then caresses his chin, as if absorbing something deep. Everyone in the clubhouse this mid-morning doesn’t even bat an eye at the two grown men acting like they’re receiving hidden knowledge from an infant who filled his diaper with the messiest shit I’ve ever seen in my life not thirty minutes ago.
“Good point,” Mayhem says. “We’ll keep that in mind.”
