Thirty Minutes Earlier,
Offices of Loving Lauderdale Magazine
“But the love story. That’s what I really want to play up. The love between the hardened criminal and the sweet, innocent girl. That’s what the readers want, a love story, and I need something to make the conclusion pop.”
Leslie cradled the phone against her ear as she spoke, trying to make her voice as convincing as possible. What she’d failed to mention—and didn’t intend to reveal—was that she already had her conclusion and, boy, would it pop. But did Ginny know?
She knew she was just pushing the envelope here, stretching the boundaries of this interview. She wasn’t just being nosy. She was being downright greedy. But she had to push.
“That signal he gave you,” Leslie prodded. “It must have meant something. Can’t you give me anything here, Ginny?”
Ginny’s sigh was audible over the speakerphone. “The only thing I can tell you, Leslie, is that I’ve spent three months letting you interview me and the real love story was right under your nose the whole time. You just didn’t see it. A story about a man who has loved me from the very beginning, from the first glance. The man who always was and still is my soul mate. That’s the only love story now. Yes, I loved Grizz, that’s true. But that story is over. Don’t romanticize it. I’ve built a new life with—”
That was it—there was no way in hell Ginny knew her husband was Grizz’s son. Leslie was certain of that now. Nobody was that forgiving. Leslie cut her off and went in for the final kill.
“She doesn’t know, does she, Tommy?” Leslie asked sweetly, knowing full well Tommy was sitting right next to Ginny. “You haven’t told her yet?” She tsk-tsked. “Well, I suggest you do so before she reads it in my article.”
But instead of the torrent she’d expected, there was nothing but silence. Leslie waited a beat, then two, for Tommy’s answer. There was no reply. She’d been disconnected.
Damn! She’d wanted to get the story behind that signal Grizz had given Ginny; she just knew there was something to it. But nobody would tell her a thing. Truthfully, she was a little surprised to realize Tommy had never revealed to Ginny that Grizz was his father. In her experience, most people couldn’t keep secrets like that to themselves.
Leslie didn’t purposely set out to be mean or rude, but she liked having the upper hand in an interview. She probably came across as pushy, but she didn’t care. Especially now—this article was too important to her career. It could be her big chance with a popular, renowned magazine. She had told a white lie when she’d originally approached Ginny about the interview. She didn’t actually work for the magazine in question, but she knew that after submitting this story she would have a shot at it.
And Leslie had proved to be a good investigator. She knew how to coerce people. How to get them to talk to her. That’s how she got this interview. She did her homework and went to the one person who could influence Ginny to open up. Her daughter, Mimi. Yes, she knew Grizz was Mimi’s father. Leslie was surprised when she realized the fifteen-year old, unbeknownst to her own parents, knew it, too.
Leslie swiveled back to her computer screen and did some final edits on the article. It would still be a great story, even without the answer to the question she’d asked Ginny. A few more tweaks and then she’d be done, maybe go home and spend a real Sunday with her mom and sister for once. She was the only one in the tiny magazine office today, a small remodeled gas station located off the beaten path. The owners—Don and his wife, Irene, a natural redhead with a bouffant hairdo who always smelled like cotton candy—were rarely around, and Leslie ran the day-to-day operations. In a way it was a good job. But Leslie had grown tired of being in charge. She didn’t care about keeping up with advertisers, subscriptions, payments, any of it. All she wanted to do was write. That’s all she’d ever wanted.
Less than an hour later, she was putting the finishing touches on her story when she heard the door open. Without looking up from her computer, she said, “Office is closed today. You can come back tomorrow morning. We open at nine.”
She heard the door shut and didn’t realize the person had closed it from the inside until she heard the creak of the chair right in front of her desk. She turned to look and almost gasped.
It was Keith Dillon. Gang name: Blue.
Blue was one of the gang members who hadn’t gotten the immunity some of the others had. He was too high up in Grizz’s organization for that. Blue had gone to prison with Grizz and a few others. Got a lousy ten years and was out in two.
Blue had visited Leslie a week or so after Grizz had attacked her in the prison interview room, right after Grizz gave her the phone interview. Right before the execution. She’d known Grizz did it out of anger and she’d had to swallow her pride after the beating, eat a little crow when she talked to him, but her instincts had been accurate. She knew she’d angered Grizz enough in that first meeting that he just might give her something.
Boy, did he. When he told her during the call that Grunt—Tommy—was his son, Leslie had almost dropped the phone. He wouldn’t answer any other questions. She’d wanted to get more details, like whether Grunt knew and, if so, for how long. He wouldn’t give her anything else.
The first encounter with Blue was when Leslie had just come out of the grocery store and was putting bags in the trunk of her car. The sun was hot and she felt a trickle of sweat make its way down the center of her chest. She had allowed her pain medication to wear off so she could drive herself to the market. The heat and renewed pain were making her woozy, but she was still feeling a little high, too. She knew the secret Grizz revealed was going to make her article. Maybe even make her career.
She didn’t know where Blue had come from, didn’t see or hear him approach her car. He was just there, standing silently with his arms crossed. He didn’t ask her not to print the secret. He demanded it.
“Grizz changed his mind.” Blue looked her up and down. “Don’t print whatever it was he told you during the phone interview.”
Leslie just stared at him. She knew who he was, but he didn’t incite the same sense of fear that Grizz did. So instead she took her cart back to the return, left him standing behind her car. Like an afterthought, she called out over her shoulder, “You don’t even know what it is, do you?”
He didn’t answer.
She stashed the buggy and strode back toward him. “The big secret. You don’t know it, do you?” she asked a little too smugly.
Blue waited for her to return. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t print it. This is just a courtesy call. You don’t want to be seeing me again.”
He turned around and walked away.
Now, two days after Grizz’s execution, Blue was back. He sat in the chair and looked at her. Didn’t say a word. She wouldn’t allow herself to be intimidated. A quick stab of terror at the memory of Grizz’s brutality jolted her, but she quickly replaced it with confidence. That bastard was dead. She was safe. She wouldn’t let Blue get the upper hand.
Blue gazed around the room, taking in the fake leather sofa, the framed poster art on the walls, the cheap paneling. “Wow, this must be the white trash satellite office for your big magazine.” A laugh escaped his lips.
She stiffened. “I didn’t say I worked for them. I just said—”
“I already knew that. So did Grizz. That’s not why I’m here.” Before she could comment, he asked, “So, it’s not getting printed. Right?”
“What does it matter now, anyway?” She shrugged with a little more confidence than she actually felt. “He’s dead. Besides, I didn’t use any real names. That was part of the deal I made with Ginny. Who’s going to care?”
“I care. You took it out of the article, correct?”
“What if I didn’t? What if it gets printed? What’s going to happen?” She gave him a fierce look. “You’re going to slash my tires? Beat me up?”
Blue stared coldly. “It’s obvious you want to play games here. So the rules have changed. Now there will be no article.”
Leslie sat back in her chair, sighing. She tilted her head to one side as she looked at him, trying to determine her response. Truth be told, she didn’t want to get the shit beat out of her again. Okay, so maybe she wouldn’t print the secret. Not this time, anyway. But she would certainly hold on to the information and use it when needed. It was obviously important. She would try calling the Dillon’s again. The Dillon’s? Ha! They weren’t really the Dillon’s. They were the Talbot’s—if that was even Grizz’s real last name. She wanted—needed—to ask about the signal, the nod. She would get them to tell her. She would get what she wanted, eventually. She always did.
“Okay,” she relented finally. “The secret won’t come out in my article.”
He leaned forward, his words like ice. “It’s too late. You shouldn’t have fucked with me just now. There will be no article. You’d better erase its existence right now. If I even think you have a copy of it anywhere, or that it might show up someday—”
“What? You’ll do what?” She glared at him. She was getting angry and more than a little tired of being bullied. “I already know what it feels like to swallow my own teeth. It’s not great, but if that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll handle whatever it is you think you can do to me. You know why? Because my future is at stake here. My career. My chance to get out of this crappy little rat-hole of a job and make something of myself. So you know what, Blue?” Her eyes blazed. “You can just deal with it. I won’t print that Grizz is Tommy’s father, but that article is getting submitted.”
She sat back in her chair and took a deep, triumphant breath. She was shaking, but not with fear. She was mad.
As if on cue, her telephone rang. It was Sunday; the answering machine could pick it up. Irene’s sweet voice filled the tense air between them. “Thank you for calling the Loving Lauderdale office. Our hours are Monday through Friday, nine to five. Leave a message and your call will be returned promptly. Thank you and have a great day!”
Just then a woman’s frantic voice could be heard over the answering machine. “Leslie! Leslie! Oh God. Leslie, please be there! Please answer. If you’re there, pick up. Please!”
It was her mother’s voice. Leslie looked at Blue and was instantly filled with unease. As she reached for the phone, her mother’s panicked cries continued.
“I don’t know what to do! Please call as soon as you get this.” She choked back a sob. “It’s Hannah. Your little sister is missing!”
Leslie picked up the phone. “Mom, I’m here. Calm down. Calm down and tell me what happened.”
She listened intently as she stared into Blue’s cold eyes. He got up and quickly walked out the door.
Leslie dropped the phone, the receiver landing with a loud thud on her desk. She could hear her mother’s voice fading as she ran out after him, as he strode toward an idling sedan. She put her hand to her brow to dim the sunlight. The glare was blinding. Was that a woman in the passenger’s seat?
Blue had started to climb into the driver’s side when Leslie finally screamed after him, “You win! Okay? You win!”
Blue nodded at her and got in the car. It sped off.
Leslie stood there a moment, paralyzed with unmistakable fear. Funny—she remembered thinking when he’d first confronted her in the grocery store parking lot that he didn’t incite the same sense of fear that Grizz did.
She was wrong.
Leslie didn’t bother trying to get a license plate. She didn’t bother trying to get a better look at the woman. It didn’t matter.
What she’d said was true. He’d won. That bastard was dead and he’d still won.
Tears rolled down both cheeks as she went back inside to comfort her mother and delete her file.