This time I had nothing but the legal pad and the pen. And I wasn't convinced I even needed those two things. I was prepared. Prepared to see him, for one. Looking crazy good even in enough orange for hunting season. And I was prepared to 'fess up. I had nothing to lose in telling the truth. I had my safety and my sanity to gain.

Buzz and click and low, authoritative voice, and I was finally led into the visiting room. This time, there was a small army of visitors. Men and women alike. Some looking like they couldn't hold their excitement inside, some looking like they were on their way to the guillotine. I didn't have time to catalog all of them – I'd arrived later than last time.

And there he was. Smirking. Head shaved, inviting peach fuzz on top. A hint of ink crawled up his neck. He was wearing white sleeves under his orange shirt this time, hiding his tattoos, but nothing could hide the muscles underneath. What do men have to do in prison besides work out? The Rev I remembered was a little ropy. He was cut but lean. Now he was roughly the size of Godzilla – and based on the look in his eyes, he was quite comfortable using his reptilian brain.

But I wasn't there to collect mental pictures to use between the sheets later.

“Did you get prettier, Misty-Lee?” he asked as I slipped into the seat across from him. I sacrificed a tiny smile.

“You tell me,” I said. “And call me Misty.”

He blinked, leaning back.

“Please,” I said, insisting.

“Whatever you want, Misty,” he said, opening his hands in supplication. “Now, lay it on me. You didn’t bring your pretty little ass in here for a conjugal visit. Not that I’d mind if you wanted to open that blouse up a few buttons. Four years is a long time to…”

“Someone's threatening me,” I said, cutting off his words. I could sympathize with him, spending so long behind bars without women around, but I wasn't there to be his masturbation fodder, either.

“So we’re all business today, huh? I figured as much,” Rev nodded. “Go on. Why’s somebody want to hurt the very symbol of purity and innocence?”

“I think they’re after money”, I said, ignoring his little jab. “They think my dad kept a rainy-day fund or something. But they’re wrong. There is no money. He gave me everything Uncle Sam couldn't find, and it was enough to keep me comfortable, but that's it. Dad wouldn't have held out on me. If there was some treasure chest buried in the yard, Dad would have given me the map.”

“Hmm,” he said, and for the first time he looked engaged in my words instead of my body. “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” I said, then hesitated. “I mean... you can't be totally sure of anything. Not where my father was concerned. Maybe he stocked something away for his release… but it's hard to believe he wouldn't have told me about it. He'd trust me with that kind of information. He knew I wouldn't spend anything he didn't want me to spend.”

“Maybe it's not you he didn't trust,” Rev observed, and it wasn't the first time that thought had crossed my mind. I desperately wanted to believe there was no money; because if there was, it would be that much harder to convince them that I didn't have it.

“I'm pretty sure the people who killed him are the ones threatening me,” I went on.

“I'm pretty sure you're right,” he said. The way he said that, he must have been thinking since my last visit. Maybe this wasn't a totally one-way street. Maybe he was going to be more helpful than I thought.

“But I don't know who it is,” I said. “I mean, there has to be someone who had it out for my dad.”

“All good bad guys have enemies,” he smirked, dimples showing. I bristled a bit. My dad was a 'bad guy'. But not to me. And it always hurt to remember that the world saw him that way, when I just saw Dad.

“So that's it,” I said. “That's why I'm here. I need to know – anything. Anything at all. Any detail. Any name. Anything.”

Rev regarded me coolly for a minute. His eyes didn't leave my face, and that was impressive. They hadn't been able to leave my chest for more than a minute at a time up until then. Another thing I could forgive, but not something I was going to pretend to like or invite. I'd worn a turtleneck despite the springtime heat for just that reason.

“I don't know if I can give you the name you’re looking for,” he finally said, slowly, clearly. My whole chest seemed to deflate. I should have been better prepared for that answer. I should have kept my hopes on the low side. He shifted, leaned a little closer, black eyes engaged. “But I think I can help you.”

My lips parted, then closed. I didn't need to respond to that. If he wanted to explain something, tell me something, whatever, he could. I wasn't going to give him the pleasure of hanging on his every word like a desperate little girl.

“What kinds of threats are you getting?” Rev was forced to ask when my silence didn't falter. “Describe them.”

“Nothing physical so far,” I said, eyes shifting around the room. A nervous habit that might very well save me some day. “Well, I mean, they're threatening me physically, but there's been no property damage. I haven't seen them. They haven't called, either.”

“So they've, what, written?”

I nodded.

“I've gotten two letters so far. One at home and one at work.”

“And the letters say...?”

“There's an e-mail address. It's one of those throwaway addresses you set up for spam. They want me to send them the location of the haul, or to wire them the money… or...”

He waited patiently as I let the wave of fear, cold nausea, sweep through me.

“...or bad things will happen to me and Purrloin.”

His eyebrow quirked, and I immediately wished I could take it back.

“My cat,” I said quickly, wanting to get past that little point.

“You’re getting death threats, and you’re worried about a cat?” Rev laughed, sitting back in his seat.

“It’s not just that. How do they know I even have a cat? How do they know his name? I’ve been hiding for years Rev. I’m good at hiding. I don’t share this shit on Facebook for Christ’s sake. And fuck you for being so insensitive. I don't think it's that weird for me to not want my cat to get killed by assholes who think I have money I don't have!”

“For a pretty girl, you sure do have a dirty mouth,” Rev said quietly.

“This is life and death I’m talking about. Life and fucking death,” I mouthed back, trying to calm myself down as I noticed one of the guards glancing over in our direction.

To my surprise, Rev nodded slowly, not cracking another joke or laughing or even giving me one of those goddamned smirks.

“They give you a deadline?”

“Not really,” I admitted. “But I think they're pretty serious. They know where I work.”

“You keep saying they,” he went on, analyzing my every word in a way I found mildly fascinating. “You think it's more than one person?”

I shrugged.

“Don't assholes always travel in packs? I think it’s safer to err on the side of caution. Besides, from what Gino's told me...”

“What's Gino told you?”

I sighed.

“Gino was kind enough to inform me that whoever they are, they haven't been too quiet about their interest in my old man, or his nonexistent loot. But you know how it is with Gino…”

“They've been talking around town?”

“Not quite,” I said through a frown. “Or, I don't know. No one else is saying shit. Which probably means something in and of itself. I have to believe that my father's friends would tell me if it was some dumbass punk...”

“But a big ringer, that might convince them to keep their mouths shut,” Rev answered for me. I nodded. Geeze. This was the first person who actually seemed interested in what was going on. I got a lot of pity and a lot of false promises and a lot of empty lies from my father's old mates. But Rev seemed...invested.

“So...can you help me, or not?” I finally had to ask, my fingernails digging into the cheap plastic chair, sure to leave half-moon dents there. Rev leaned back, his chest moving steady with his slow breath.

“Depends,” he said. Now, it was my turn to crook an eyebrow. Here it was. A catch, of course. But what kind of catch would it be?

“I’m not going to hug you,” I replied, eyeing him cooly.

“Well that’s fine, but I’m looking for something more than a little hug.”