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“Find someplace to hide and lay low for a minute; I’ll let you know what I find. Stella can probably find his face on a camera somewhere.”
I hang up without saying goodbye, pissed and annoyed. I’m not sure why we didn’t think about this happening, but I think I assumed that the other men at that table would keep him in check.
But Jeffrey Wright is as bad as they come, and giving him even an ounce of power was one of the worst things they could have done.
Maybe they were willing to give Sydney the company because of how awful he was. They just wanted to get rid of him, too.
Sighing, I grab Sydney’s hand and drag her along with me toward the entrance. Taking a right, we end up in a parking garage.
We walk through it, trying to find a car to take, when a white van pulls in front of us, the back sliding open.
“Get in.”
I whip around, yanking my gun from the back of my pants, and find Jeremy leaning against the side of the van, his arms crossed, a cocky look on his face.
“Are you going to get in or not?”
I look at Sydney, searching for whether this is a good idea or not. After a moment, I run my hand through my hair. “Screw it,” I mumble as I help her into the van before climbing in myself.
“You guys are in a bit of trouble,” Jeremy says, whistling.
“Thank you for informing us; we really needed that,” Sydney says, and it puts a little smirk on my face.
“I’m just saying. Do you have any information for me?” Jeremy asks her.
Her eyes flash to mine before going back to his. “I have unfinished business. After it’s done, I can give you everything.”
But the thing is, she’s not going to be able to do that. But I can’t tell her that right now.
“Stay here until you figure out what the hell you guys are doing,” he barks, opening the back door and hopping out.
Whipping out the burner phone, I call Jerry back. “Have anything for me?”
“Stella isn’t seeing him anywhere but the airport. I think he went back home, too.”
“That would be convenient,” I say, hitting my head on the side of the van.
“Where are you guys right now?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
There’s silence.
“Hey Sydney, do you have any idea where he may go?”
She thinks about it for a moment, her arms flung over her knees. Her lips rub together as does, her fingers playing with a loose strand of fabric from her pants.
“I have one idea.”
“Okay, that’s a start,” I say, perking up.
“I think he may be at my parents’ old place. The vacation home in the country.”
“Why would he be there?”
“It was peaceful for me because they left me alone,” she explains, “but they only left me alone because they had so much business to conduct there. That entire property is completely stacked with bodies under that soil. The whole thing. I used to watch them bring construction workers in to bury them.
“Whole fields of bodies, and they’d just put dirt over them, turning it into one of the fields I played in as a kid.”
