Page 129 of Traces Of You
No, she knew. It was Ford. He’d tell her to do everything to fight back and all she had were words.
Randy moved closer and backhanded her. She expected it, but she needed him to believe her. Her defiance had to sell the truth.
Ford taught her to be strong.
She wouldn’t go down without a fight, even if it got her killed in the end.
She spit the blood on the floor. Might as well leave some DNA while she was at it.
“My cousin wouldn’t dare,” Randy snarled.
“This bitch doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Bobby said.
“I don’t know,” Lyle said. “Oliver did just buy that sweet whip.”
The more she talked, the more things were being said between the three of them. Planting doubt had been the goal and it was working.
“See,” she said. “Oliver has been talking about some fancy truck he’s always wanted. He just needed enough cash down. He doesn’t have it. He never did.”
Randy yanked his phone out of his back pocket, then dialed.
He almost threw it when it went to voicemail. “I’ve got your bitch here, Oliver. She’s saying you took the pills. That you’ve been skimming off the top all along. I want some answers about how you got that ride. Call me now!”
She had to build more doubt. “He won’t call you back,” she said. “He might even leave town.”
“He won’t go anywhere, because I’ll make sure Stiles is watching him now.”
Randy stalked out of the room, leaving her with the two men who’d brought her here.
“Let me go,” she whispered. “I won’t tell anyone. I swear, I won’t.”
“It’s too late,” Bobby said. “People know around town we’ve been asking about you.”
“What did you find out?”
Please don’t let them know I’m dating Ford!
“Small towns like this, people talk. You have to go to the store. Have to get food. There aren’t many places around here to buy stuff. Show a picture enough and there you go, you’re recognized. One cashier was really chatty and said you were always buying food for your job.”
It ended up being something as simple as talking to a friendly cashier she saw weekly. Dropping her guard and feeling like part of the community.
“They told you where I worked?”
“Yep. Bragged about the place. I had to try it out myself to know,” Lyle said, laughing. “You waited on me one day.”
How could she have not realized that?
“You were in the cafe?”
“We both have been,” Bobby said. “I missed you on a day off and went back another time. Couldn’t figure out where you lived, but we knew where you worked and saw a big truck in the back the days you were there. Figured it was yours.”
“We couldn’t go back again,” Lyle said. “Some big dude on the property stopped and stared us down yesterday when we drove by. Been past too many times already. Scary motherfucker. He was at the gates locking them, so we knew we had to make the move.”
Please let Clay have figured this out.
Please, please, please.
He’ll go back and look if it’s been days they’ve been in town.
