Truck running, he threw it in reverse, looked over his shoulder and started backing out.
“Let Mick handle this,” Chace stated.
“I will. Then I’ll handle it,” Deck returned.
“Deck—”
He hit the brakes before his truck hit the street and he focused on his steering wheel but his mind was focused somewhere else.
“He’s followin’ her.”
“You don’t know that,” Chace replied. “He could have followed you there. Stewed on it, got a wild hair, thought to f**k with you, came back, found the security system disengaged and didn’t waste an opportunity. Then he took something that looked like it meant something to you.”
“Either way is uncool,” Deck noted.
“It is, but stand down and let Mick deal with it.”
“He gets him first. I get him after.”
“Is anything else missing?” Chace asked.
“Nothin’. Looked, that’s it,” Deck answered shortly.
“Fuckin’ with you,” Chace stated.
“So I f**k back,” Deck returned.
“Deck, we got a case against this ass**le, do not f**k it up for a kaleidoscope.”
Just turn the dial.
He didn’t turn the f**king dial.
Not for a long time.
Then he did. He’d turned the dial.
You’re everything to me.
And found beauty.
“I won’t f**k up the case,” Deck assured Chace, hitting the garage door remote, he reversed into the street.
“You’re pissed and even you pissed, your judgment can be impaired.”
“I won’t f**k up the case,” Deck repeated, disconnected, tossed his phone on the seat beside him and hit the gas.
* * *
Five and a half hours later…
Sitting in the middle of the couch, Deck heard the door open.
He didn’t move.
Seconds later, he watched him round the corner from the entry hall into the living space of the condo.
Deck knew he’d been picked up and interviewed while the Gnaw Bone PD searched his house for a kaleidoscope they did not find. During his interview, he likely gave bullshit excuses, and with no material evidence, he was set loose.
Now he was Deck’s.
Rounding the corner, impossible to miss, Dane McFarland saw him.
“Jesus, what the f**k?” McFarland hissed.
“Your life right now is shit,” Deck started. “Your sentence will be a nickel, you’ll do two years.”
“You can’t be in my house,” McFarland declared, taking two steps toward Deck.
Deck straightened from the couch, McFarland’s head tipped back as he did, and he stopped moving toward Deck.
“You give me back what you took from me, we’ll leave it at that,” Deck stated. “You play games with me, that time when you get out and set about puttin’ your life back together will be the time when you really begin to feel the pain.”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” McFarland snapped.
“You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about and you got three seconds to produce it,” Deck returned.
McFarland leaned toward him. “You can’t break into my house and threaten me.”
“I can. I did. You don’t give me what’s mine, I’ll do more. You do not want to know what more I can do but I’ll give you a teaser. You will never get another job. You will never have another credit card. You’ll never own another car. You’ll never lay another woman. You’ll never find another house. You’ll never have another friend. You will be alone, broke and broken and you’ll wish like all f**k you handed over right now what you took from me.”
“Jesus, you’re whacked,” McFarland whispered, staring up at Deck.
“I’m a man who does not like his house violated and his things stolen. Now you got three.”
“You can’t do all that shit,” McFarland retorted.
“Your ass landed in jail ’cause I got deputized and put you there. Task force investigating for six months, I had you there within days. So you’re wrong. I can do all that shit. And trust me, you don’t want to test that. Now, that’s one.”
McFarland’s eyes got big and he murmured, “That’s impossible.”
“County records will show the sheriff had a subcontract. That subcontract was me. Now, that’s two.”
“Sheriff departments don’t subcontract,” he spat.
“They did with me, and, just sayin’, I nailed you and I also got Prosky. Your boss is going down.” He leaned forward. “Now that’s three.”
He was bluffing about Prosky, trying to rattle McFarland.
It was a good bluff.
Not surprisingly, considering he was a f**king moron, McFarland gave it away. His Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes widened before going shifty.
They still had nothing on him, but now Deck knew the boss of that crew was Prosky.
“Give it to me, I’ll make certain no one knows you ratted out Prosky,” Deck told him.
“I didn’t rat out Jon!” McFarland cried and there it was, panic and proof.
Prosky was the leader.
“He’ll think you did, you don’t give it to me,” Deck said.
McFarland shook his head. “You can’t do that, man.”
Deck’s brows went up. “You took something that means something to me, broke into my house and took it, and you think I can’t f**k with you?”
“It’s just a f**kin’ kaleidoscope.” McFarland was now jittery.
There it was.
Motherfucker.
“Emme gave it to me and I want it back,” Deck returned and McFarland’s body stilled, his lip curled and his eyes narrowed on Deck.
“I know. Followed her to your place, she didn’t lock the door, got in behind her, wanted to know why she was all fired up to jump straight to you after she got shot of me.” His sneer deepened before he finished, “Nice pool, man.”
Deck stared at him, wondering where Buford was during this scenario.
But he knew.
Buford was on the scent of strawberries.
“Saw her clutchin’ it to her chest like it was her baby,” McFarland went on. “So, yeah. I know it meant something to Emme. An Emme you f**kin’ stole from me.”
Deck said nothing. Deck was dealing with this man following his woman, entering his home when Emme was there, and the knowledge that Emme, feeling betrayed by him, held the piece of art she gave him to her chest when she packed her shit and left his house.