“Because it’s not,” Iseeyou said with a careless shrug.
“How’d you get it?”
“None of your business. But I can find anyone, anywhere—as long as they’ve got family, friends, utilities, credit cards, property. You can run but you can’t hide.” His cocky grin was definitely at odds with his braces, but Oliver didn’t care about that. After waiting months for Victor to provide this information, and walking away empty-handed, he finally had what he wanted. This two-bit teenage hood-in-the-making was able to get it for him in a matter of three days.
“Nice work,” he said, suitably impressed.
“You can thank me with the money.” The boy held out his hand when Oliver made no move to pay him.
“You shouldn’t have given it to me until I gave you the cash. Now I have no incentive to follow through with my end of the bargain.” Without his knife, Oliver knew he couldn’t overpower most people, but he felt sure he could teach this teen a lesson—until the kid motioned to either end of the alley and he saw that the boy wasn’t alone. Two other teenagers, both of whom looked very much like Iseeyou, blocked the openings, each holding a switchblade.
“You’re smarter than you look,” he told the kid as he pulled out the money.
“That’s the problem with the citizens of this country. They judge people by appearances.”
“Comes in handy for you, doesn’t it?”
“Sometimes.” [email protected] counted the bills, then nodded. “You’re free to go. You know how to reach me if you ever want to do business again.”
When Oliver didn’t leave, the boy stalked off ahead of him to join his associate at the north end of the alley. The third boy disappeared before Oliver could turn to check on him; he was probably going around to meet the other two rather than risk an altercation by coming straight through.
“Damn smart,” Oliver muttered, and chuckled as he imagined those kids blowing all five hundred bucks at an arcade. Video games were one hell of a waste of a one-carat diamond, but Oliver had what he needed. That was all that mattered.
The house was dark and closed up tight when Jane arrived, and the truck Noah had lent Oliver was gone. She didn’t think anyone was home.
“Oliver?” The last time Jane had spoken to her husband was just after lunch, when he’d promised to pick up Kate from his parents’ house at four o’clock. Jane was grateful he was pitching in—the traffic was always so bad when she got off at six. But if he’d gotten Kate, he certainly hadn’t brought her home. There was no backpack on the kitchen table, where she usually tossed it, no sign that she’d been here at all.
Had Oliver left Kate at his parents’ house? Maybe he’d taken the truck back to Wendy, and Wendy had given him a ride home. In that case, he could be sitting in one of the back bedrooms in the dark. He did that sometimes. Or maybe he’d gone out on his bike….
“Oliver?” she called as she walked from room to room.
It made her uneasy to think of Kate alone with him. Noah didn’t believe Oliver was dangerous, but last night had convinced Jane. She was still shaken from it, knew she’d never be able to look at him again without suspicion.
The guest bathroom door was closed. Thinking she’d found him, she stood outside it and knocked. “Oliver?”
There was no response.
Opening it, she discovered that the room was slightly damp, as if he’d recently had a hot shower. Why he hadn’t used the shower in their bathroom, she didn’t know. But, obviously, if he was gone, he hadn’t left all that long ago.
She started to move on when a disposable razor sitting on the edge of the sink caught her eye. Entering the small bathroom, she saw a can of shaving cream in the shower, too. It hadn’t been there before. The sight of it motivated her to look further and, sure enough, there was a lot of curly dark hair in the drain.
Pubic hair. Oliver had shaved himself.
A lot of men shave. He was a cyclist.
Cyclists shave their arms and legs.
It’s popular to do a lot more than that these days.
But Oliver hadn’t done it since he’d been home and he’d been biking for almost a week. Why now?
Jane’s stomach began to churn. What was he up to? Was he waiting for her in one of the back bedrooms?
The floor creaked as she checked Kate’s room. She paused, listening for other noises, but heard only the barking of the neighbor’s dog and two teenagers yelling obscenities at each other while they skateboarded in the parking lot of the nearby convenience store.
“Oliver? Are you home?” She pushed open the cracked door of their master bedroom, listening to the hinges squeal as it swung wide.
The bed was neatly made.
Oliver wasn’t in it.
She checked the master bath, then hurried back to the kitchen, where she picked up the phone and called her in-laws.
“This is Jane,” she said as soon as Betty answered.
“Hi, Jane. Are you running a little late today?”
“Oliver was planning to come by for Kate. Has he shown up yet?”
“Not yet, dear.”
The relief that swept through her made her knees weak. She needed to get out of here, she decided, and she needed to take Kate with her. She didn’t know what she’d do or where she’d go, but she knew she couldn’t stay, couldn’t live in constant fear. There had to be shelters and other hiding places for women like her. She’d go online and find one, so they wouldn’t spend the night in the street. Then she’d grab Kate and get as far away from Sacramento as she could.
“Noah’s coming over soon,” Betty was saying. “Do you want me to ask if he’ll drop Kate off on his way home?”
Jane twisted the phone cord nervously around the fingers of one hand. It pinched, hurting the cuticles she’d shredded, but she scarcely felt the pain. “No, uh, I’m planning to surprise her with a little outing, a mommy/daughter date. Don’t…uh…don’t let her go with anyone else, okay? I-I’ll be over to get her in thirty minutes.”
“No problem,” Betty said. “How was work?”
Jane didn’t have time to chitchat. “Good, but Kate and I will be late for our movie if I don’t hurry, so I’ll talk to you in a few minutes.” She hoped Noah wouldn’t be there when she arrived. She didn’t want to face him, couldn’t stand the contempt in his eyes. He thought she was crazy, that she’d finally lost it. But it was Oliver who wasn’t right. She was sure of it.