Page 61 of Dangerous Obsession

She experienced a moment of déjà vu from when he’d protected her from a crazy Colombian guy with a mohawk who came to the townhouse, shot Cole, and kidnapped Dulce.

The truck’s horn gave a quick honk when he pressed the fob, then he swung the door open and assisted Marigold up into the passenger seat. He shut the door, hurried around the back of the truck, and climbed in behind the wheel.

“I’ll call in our food order.” Marigold removed her purse, dug out her phone, and clicked her seat belt into place. “What would you like?”

“I’ll eat anything.” Viking pressed a button on the dash, and the big truck rumbled to life. “Why don’t you pick a few different things?”

“Great idea.” She called her favorite Chinese restaurant, placed their order, and dropped her phone back into her purse. “It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.”

Viking’s phone rang, and Calliope’s name appeared on the screen on the dash. He pressed a button on his steering wheel.

“Hey, Calliope. You’re on speaker, and Marigold is with me.”

“Hi, Marigold. I’m glad you’re there, too. I have an update on Barnum, and you’re not going to like it.” The sound of a car blinker could be heard in the background. “I followed Deborah’s son and Cliff to a parking lot over near Brentwood.”

“Brentwood? What in the world was he doing over there?” With its high crime rate and warnings about being in the area after dark, Brentwood was the last place she ever would’ve imagined Cliff going to.

“Someone staged a truck there for him.”

There was only one person dumb enough to do that for him.

“His mother,” Marigold and Viking answered at the same time.

“So … I guess that means he’s moving about freely now, right?” She started to chew the inside of her cheek and forced herself to stop.

“He is, but don’t worry, I’m sticking to him like flies on doo-doo.” Calliope chuckled. “After the kid dropped him off, Barnum walked over to a pawn shop. He was inside for thirty-two minutes, and when he came out, he was carrying two brown paper bags. Unfortunately, I couldn’t go in to find out what he purchased without losing him, so I enlisted Sammy’s help.”

“Pawn shops sell guns, right?” Marigold turned to Viking. She’d never been into one, but she’d seen a bunch of them with pictures of guns on their signs.

“They do.” Viking slowed to a stop at the corner and gave her a quick glance before turning left. “However, convicted felons are permanently banned from owning a gun in Washington, DC, and Georgetown is a part of DC.”

“Like that’s going to stop a douche-nozzle like Barnum.” Calliope’s voice dripped with disgust. “And Viking, you and I both know there are pawn shops out there with very lax screening processes that aren’t terribly particular about who they’ll sell a weapon to. If the customer has the cash, they’ll sell them the merchandise.”

“Wonderful.” Marigold stared out the side window.

Darkness came earlier these days, and the amber glow from the street lights reflected off the wet asphalt. The thought of her ex somewhere out there, roaming free with a gun, made her stomach churn.

“He left the pawn shop and drove to an apartment building in Ivy City. A two-story, L-shaped converted motel with all the doors facing the parking lot.” Pages flipped in the background. “He went to room two oh three, and a man answered the door. He remained inside for two hours and forty-two minutes. Then Barnum came out and drove to a bar called Stumpy’s Dump, and trust me, the place lives up to its name. Fifty-seven minutes later, he came out carrying a six-pack and drove to an old mobile home park about two miles away. Once there, Barnum parked next to a small, very raggedy-looking camper. He grabbed a duffle bag from his truck and went inside.”

“He’s living in a camper? In Ivy City?” That was a mighty long fall from the big, fancy house he grew up in. “I wonder if Deborah knows. Though it’s better and certainly safer for her and her son not to have him in their home.”Or in their life.

“I sent Barnum and the other guy’s plate numbers to Sammy,” Calliope continued. “Barnum’s mother purchased the truck with cash and slipped a few bucks to a couple of their mechanics to drop it off at that parking lot. The other car is registered to a man named Arthur Whitby, a former inmate who served time with Barnum. Whitby is working as a janitor at a small church, and the apartment he lives in is rented under the church’s name. The camper belonged to Whitby’s mother, and she left it to him when she passed away.”

“What was Whitby in prison for?” Marigold asked.

“Burglary. He received the minimum sentence of five years but was given credit for good behavior and released early.”

Marigold tsked. “Gee, sounds familiar.”

“Do we know if the terms of Barnum’s release include restrictions on associating with other felons?” Viking’s thumb skimmed over Marigold’s knuckles.

“Not sure, but I do know he’s not allowed to be within five hundred yards of Marigold, her home, or any place she happens to be. Which brings me to the part you’rereallynot going to like.” Calliope’s tone turned ominous. “Barnum left the camper and drove to your townhouse, Marigold.”

Marigold sucked in a breath, and her head whipped around to lock eyes with Viking.

“He was at my house?” A chill raced over Marigold’s flesh, raising goosebumps everywhere.

“He didn’t get out of the car, but he stopped, sat in front of your place, and stared at the building for about five minutes before he finally drove off.”

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