Page 44 of Etched in Stone
“Where is it?”
“Carrot and stick? Surely, you're smart enough to know you're going to need leverage over me.
That's the only way that I'm going to even think about giving you what you want.”
“You see Jesse when you tell me where it is.”
“No, I see Jesse now, or you can pry the information from my cold dead brain pan. I'm pretty sure you haven't developed that technology yet.”
Pablo's eye twitched and he crossed his arms over his chest. It was a defensive move, and Ray clocked it just as he was busy eyeballing the cameras, the lighting fixtures and perhaps even the glue that held the window in place.
“She's someplace cold and with a limited supply of air, so I'd suggest you hurry.”
Ray pressed down his moment of panic. He had no reason to believe that they had her, and Pablo was such a sadist, he'd have no problem putting her on the phone, crying and screaming if he did.
Forcing him to listen to Jesse was just up Pablo's alley.
“I don't believe you. I think you're a fat little pastel liar, and until you prove me wrong, I have nothing more to say to you.” Ray shrugged, extended both his middle fingers and went into stone sleep. Let the asshole come and try to break off his fingers. He'd smash his head in so fast, he wouldn't know what hit him. From the way Pablo smacked the button on the wall outside his cell, darkening the window, Ray was satisfied that Jesse was out of Pablo's hands, at least for now.
1 7
JE SSE
“Contrary to popular belief, I am not the be all and end all of information on the Rose Syndicate. I do what I can, but I have no idea where they took him. I like him. Ray’s a great guy, but I don’t even know where to look or who to ask.”
Jesse had been waiting nearly two hours at Evensong, hoping that her favorite bartender had some answers. Giles, apparently, did not.
“How about his lawyer? Do you know who that is? He said he was going to call him and then all this went crazy.”
“That I can help you with. Give me a minute.”
Giles ducked back into a room behind the bar and a minute later came out holding a card. “I can't guarantee how much this guy knows, but I'm pretty sure Ray trusts him.”
Jesse took the card and looked at the classic font and fine paper stock. The name caught her attention at once: The Law Firm of Lark and Morales. “I think I know why. My mom's maiden name is Lark.”
Finding the offices had been easy. Making herself presentable without going back to her apartment had been another story. Instinctively, Jesse knew she should not be using a credit card for anything. It was easily traceable, but she had very little in the bank to start with. At least she didn't have to worry about paying rent, Jesse told herself. She withdrew the last $150 from her account, found a reasonable dress and grabbed some hair ties at a dollar store. A few minutes in a coffee stop restroom and she was at least presentable enough to make it past whatever secretaries were guarding the lawyers' inner sanctum. Another twenty bucks and she had purchased a genuine
“Couch” purse from a rather shady street vendor.
When Jesse came out of the elevator and approached the receptionist, the gaze she got was questioning, but barely passing muster. She was an older lady, probably sent out to discourage those who would not be able to pay the retainer of such a ritzy firm.
“Can I help you?” Jesse took on the persona of a woman who'd been kept waiting for a lunch date.
“I'm here to see Mr. Lark.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“I thought so. Jessenia,” she said pointedly, trying to get a gaze of the receptionist's screen.
“Jessenia Lark.” It was a little white lie. In fact, her mother had considered going back to Lark numerous times, but the whole process had become more cumbersome after 9/11. The feds didn't make it easy to change your name anymore. Jesse got the opinion it was just something her mother liked to complain about, rather than take action. One more thing to blame on her no good father and her family that disowned her when she got married.
She'd never met her uncle. Honestly, Jesse had forgotten he existed until she'd seen the card. Her mother never talked about him. Aunt Olivia hadn't either, probably out of deference to her mother.
Free child care or not, if she'd known Olivia was fostering a relationship with her scorning brother, she would have had a fit. She knew he didn't approve of her mother's marriage, and when her grandmother had gotten sick, there'd been even more bad blood, but Jessenia had been too young to remember any of it. She figured her uncle would be in his sixties by now. Hopefully, he'd be willing to hear her out and at least start some sort of relationship.
“I'm his niece.” Jessenia added.
The receptionist pushed a button and picked up a phone.
