Page 3 of Diamond in the Rough

“We’ve all been there,” Amber whispered.

Tom huffed. “Not for seventy-two hours, though.”

Maddox gripped the toothbrush and smothered it in toothpaste. The car filled with the sound of him scrubbing his mouth clean, and the mint cleared the stuffiness from his nose. Tom lowered the back window, and Maddox spat onto the pavement.

The next item in the bag was a can of deodorant, and Maddox sprayed a generous amount under his T-shirt.

“No three-piece suit?” Maddox asked.

Amber snorted. “Sorry, Boss, no suit, but I have got a new phone for you.”

Maddox plunged his hand inside and retrieved the phone. Old, battered, but untraceable; he smiled and nodded his thanks. He’d given Jake his other one, but Maddox knew Carl would’ve used his good sense to destroy it. The police had evidence of it hitting a telephone pole at the opposite end of the woods, a perfect guise for Maddox’s story of events.

“I’ve put mine, Tom’s, and Carl’s number in already.”

Maddox shoved the phone in his joggers pocket, then reached inside for the final treasure. He turned his Zippo in his hand, then flipped it open and marvelled at the dancing streak of orange.

“So?” Amber asked.

Maddox lifted his eyebrow. “So what?”

“How the hell did you manage that?”

Maddox slumped into the seat and tried to get comfortable. His back and neck ached from the terrible cot bed, and his head pounded after being woken up every ten minutes during the night.

“James worked wonders.”

“Is that all we’re gonna get?”

Maddox sighed. “No murder weapon, someone else’s footprints in the mud leading away from the scene, someone else’s DNA around the crime scene. Until they find that person, they can’t prove my version of events isn’t true.”

“And what is your version?” Amber asked.

“I invite Lewis for an afternoon shoot in the woods. We finish blowing fruit to hell, and I put my gun down. Next thing I know, a man grabs it, and he’s yelling at me to hand over my phone. I do as he says, but Lewis refuses, and he’s shot through the head.”

“And what did this man look like?”

Maddox smirked. “About five foot seven, wide build, bald head, tattooed hands.”

“Plenty of detail, then…”

“Plenty of detail, but not uncommon for that area. Every pub that way has at least one stocky-built man with tattoos all over him.”

“Nice,” Amber said, bobbing her head. “An—and Lewis?”

“How much did Carl tell you?”

Tom shrugged. “Said you’d taken Jake out for a bit of target practise. Lewis followed you, went to shoot, but you got there first.”

Maddox didn’t confirm or deny Carl’s retelling of events. The intended victim of Lewis’s bullet hadn’t been him, but Jake. He trusted Carl, knowing Jake’s importance to him, but as he flashed a look at Amber, then Tom, he wasn’t sure he had the same level of trust in them.

Amber shook her head. “I can’t believe this whole time he’d been working for them.”

“Are we any closer to finding out who ‘them’ is?” Maddox asked.

Tom shuffled in his seat. “No, but at least they’re now a man down.”

Amber snorted. “Yes, genius, but we’re also a man down.”

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