Page 38 of Sting
“Josh grew up to be a thief. What did your mom and dad think about that?”
“What did yours think about what you became?” she fired back.
“Actually my dad was tickled. I followed in his footsteps and had big shoes to fill. In our line of work, he was famous.”
“Oh. Then your upbringing was anything but typical.”
He shrugged. “It was commonplace to me. I was a kid, didn’t know any other kind of family life.”
She thought about that, then remembered his earlier reference to his mother. “Your mama taught you better than to molest a woman, but she was okay with the profession you chose?”
“No, she died wishing I’d taken another career path.”
“She’s deceased?”
“Both of them. Dad shot her, then put the forty-five to his own head and pulled the trigger.”
She couldn’t contain her shock. By contrast, his features remained unmoved and inscrutable.
Was he trying to stun her with cruel candor? Was he even telling the truth? There was no way of knowing. She reasoned that he could lie with nonchalance but could also reveal a terrible truth with matching indifference.
“Was Josh always a tattletale?” he asked.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said. “Especially not about Josh.”
“Well, see, you should open up to me about him.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because, Jordie, your little brother just might save you and your saucy ass.”
Ignoring the remark, she pounced on the substance of what he’d said. “How?”
“At some point during our long, overnight drive—”
“You were going in circles the entire time, weren’t you?”
“Do you want to hear this or not?”
Subdued by his sharp tone, she fell silent and gave a small nod.
“Here’s where your life does become your business. Because somewhere between midnight and dawn, it occurred to me that you might be more valuable alive than dead.”
Her heart rate ticked up. She glanced at the pistol, which remained set aside on top of the crate. “You’re not going to kill me after all?”
“Depends. All you gotta do to prevent it is tell me where your brother is.”
Her flare of optimism flamed out. Slumping, she raised her arms to her sides and gave a dry laugh. “I don’t have any idea where Josh is.”
“Jordie,” he said, speaking softly, “what did I tell you about lying to me?”
“That’s the truth! When Josh turned informant, he was placed in protective custody. Even I don’t know where. I’m not allowed any contact with him. He’s being guarded around the clock by federal marshals.”
“Not anymore he’s not.”
Her stomach swooped. “What?”
“Your baby brother Josh eluded his guards and—” he made a whooshing sound and accompanied it with a hand gesture like an airplane taking off “—flew the coop.”
