Page 28 of Happy Krampus Xmas & the Meet Not Cute
“We are turning on Jackson Boulevard,” Petunia exclaims. “If your pet bird lays an egg, it's mine.”
“Who’s that?” Rami asks.
“Petunia. The best taxi driver in Chicago,” I reply, winking at her in the rearview mirror.
“In Illinois, baby!” she retorts.
“I’ll get a background on her.” Rami’s is very protective of the family business. Nobody can know what we do obviously. “Raph is ten seconds away. And should appear behind youuuu…now!”
I look back, and Bully Boy’s black motorcycle is following us. Wow!
“I see him.”
“Check your emails again and tell me if that’s the boy Miss Gordon has in her car.” Rami’s tone sounds grave, which is rare for his forever-teasing attitude. I do as he says.
“Yes, it’s him. I’m a hundred and one percent sure.”
“Damn it! The kid’s name is Irving Weiss, gone missing two hours ago from an arcade a mile from your apartment.”
“The kidnapper is mine!” I growl.
“Kidnapper?” Petunia’s eyes widen before she curls her black lips over her teeth. She leans toward the steering wheel, looking even more invested in the tailing now.
“All yours. Call Raph,” Rami replies before ending the call.
My phone starts ringing before I can. It’s Bully Boy. “The kid was kidnapped. The maggot is mine,” I clarify before the blood-loving dude can get any claim.
“Noted. I’ll take care of the rest then.”
“The rest?”
“Isn't it obvious?” I have no patience for his superior act right now.
“The donor impersonated law enforcement to get kids to follow her and kidnap them. It’s not the first time I’ve heard it. I’ll ask Rami to check for witness statements in old missing children reports to see if they saw a policewoman around the time of the kidnappings.”
“That's fucking awful.” Snatching children while using their compliance toward an authority figure is despicable. It makes me fucking sick.
“There’s something else,” Raph says, not sharing my disgust, but psychos are not known for being empathic people. “I don’t like kids. You have to take care of it.”
“Me?” I don’t think so. I turn to the taxi driver. “Hey, Petunia? Any good with kids?”
“I have four younger sisters, what do you think?”
“It’s settled then,” Raph says before hanging up.
“What are your sisters’ names?” I ask her, curious to find out if her parents gave old-fashioned names to the rest of their kids.
“Azalea, Camellia, Dahlia, and Magnolia. My mother is a botanist.” That explains the garden-variety names. Lovely—bordering odd.
“The kidnapper is parking her car in front of that house,” she declares a moment later.
The suburban area looks deserted. There’re just two more houses around, which seem abandoned.
“Perfect place to bring a kidnapped child.” Petunia reads my mind. “What’s she planning to do with him? You’re going to stop her, right? And fuck her up a little?” She sounds hopeful.
I take Wednesday out of the dog carrier and leave her on the seat. “A little,” I reply. The torture bit will come later at the base.
I can feel it. It’s initiation time! Finally.
