Page 83 of Small Town Hunter

“My instructions…bring back McCall alive.”

“What if his wife fought back?”

“Handle her.”

“What does that mean? Does that mean you would kill her? What if she pulled a gun on you, and you fired and hit the baby?”

“Wouldn’t murder a mother and her child…what…take me for?”

“What if you did it accidentally? I can’t believe you do this for a living.” She looks disturbed. “I never expected this from you.”

“Paying for my sins…now.” I exhale slowly, breathing through the pain. Her antibiotic alchemy has yet to kick in. “Good chance…I don’t make it out.”

“It’s not over until it’s over,” says Trina, examining the butchery McCall did on my head with gentle fingers. “God shows the way. Look — I have your cellphone. You can call somebody.”

“Best girl. You thought…everything.” I take the phone from her, consider my options, and then hand it back.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s nobody.”

“What do you mean?” She hisses.

“Worry about yourself,” I say, fighting the urge to close my eyes. I clench my fists, wriggle my toes. “Get help. In town. Find somebody.”

A line appears between Trina’s eyebrows. “We can’t just give up!”

“Have a gun?”

“No,” she says. “You took it when you left, remember?”

Right. And they disarmed me when they threw me in here.

“Is there a way to get someone’s phone number if you have an address?” She asks suddenly.

“Yes. Why?”

“I might have an address.”

“Give me the phone.”

“Which one?”

“Locked one.”

The app I pay through the nose for pulls up records, addresses, phone numbers.

“What’s the address?” I ask Trina thickly. My vision’s going black. My thumb starts slipping on the keys.

“Let me do it.” She takes the phone and stabs at it rapidly.

“There. Now what?” She asks.

“Wait.”

“Does it always take so long?”

“Patience.”

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