CHAPTER THIRTY

Elle’s heart still raced furiously. That had been a hell of a game of laser tag. It was made all the better by Colin’s news.

She hung up and turned to her son as they walked toward the rental counter to return the laser tag equipment. “My text message stalker was arrested this morning.”

Alex punched the air. “Yes! That is awesome.”

“The cops got him on grand larceny. He stole two dozen iPhones.”

Alex scoffed. “Androids are way better phones. Better games on them,” he said, and Elle smiled because her son hadn’t spiraled. He hadn’t returned to the silent boy he was before. In fact¸ his temporary sullenness had ended last night when she arrived home—before she’d even told him she’d broken it off with Colin. She was glad that he’d come around before this news because it meant he was stronger than he’d been before—that he was finding the internal resources to deal with the highs and lows of life.

“Anyway, he’s in jail now. Colin just talked to the detective who has been working on his father’s case,” she said, before they reached the counter.

Alex stopped in his tracks. “You said in the car the other day, when you were talking about the messages, that Colin was ‘working on it.’ What did you mean?” he asked, his voice softer now. He hadn’t let her explain the other day; he hadn’t wanted to listen. He wanted to now.

“He took it upon himself to find out who the guy was. He studied the texts, and he researched a number of possibilities as to who was sending them, and he used every tool at his disposal. Instagram, Facebook, and then good old-fashioned elbow grease. He pulled together clues from things people had said, from pictures he had seen, and when Lee Stefano posted again, Colin was ready, and he was able to track him down and give the info to the police.”

Alex whistled in admiration. “That’s impressive. That’s some serious detective work.”

She smiled, a burst of pride surging inside her over what Colin had done. “Yes. Yes it is.” She shifted gears. She needed to talk to her son, to let him know that they were going to have to learn to roll with the punches and not always retreat. “I made a decision to stop seeing him when this got too complicated. I made a choice because you’re my top priority and you always will be. But I also want you to know that I won’t always be able to step back. In this case, it was a choice I could make. But there will be other times when we have to go into the fire. When we have to face it and walk through it and be strong. I know you have it in you,” she said, wrapping her hand around his arm and squeezing.

He nodded solemnly. “I can handle it. I’m sorry I flipped out.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. You did nothing wrong. But I want you to know, too, that whatever challenges come our way, we’ll tackle them together.”

“Hmmm,” Alex mused as they headed to the arcade gallery.

“Hmmm what?”

“That’s pretty cool,” Alex said, like an admission. His voice was deeper now; it had officially changed.

She furrowed her brow. “What’s cool?”

“That Colin did that for you. That he didn’t stop until he’d solved the problem. Dad was never like that. He didn’t solve problems. He only caused them.”

She looped an arm around him, her heart lighting up. “Colin didn’t just do it for me. Or for us. He did it because it was the right thing to do. He’s that kind of a guy.”

“You miss him, don’t you?”

She gave him a noogie. “You’re too observant for your own good.” She pointed to the motorcycle game. “Let’s go kick some ass on the road.”

* * *

John Winston removed his shades when he spotted the young man waiting at a picnic table in the park. Though it was a Sunday morning, the park was quiet, and the picnic tables were far enough away from the playground for a private conversation. Marcus had said he didn’t want to meet at his apartment or at the store where he worked, and not anyplace where someone might see him. John had chosen a park thirty minutes outside of Vegas.

The teen sat on the table itself, head down, tapping away on his phone. When John reached him, he noticed the kid was swiping pages in a book.

“Thanks for meeting me,” John said.

“Thanks for meeting me here.”

John took a seat next to him on top of the green slatted wood of the table.

“So you arrested Lee Stefano yesterday?”

John nodded. “My guys found him Saturday morning at his place. Same place that was tagged in the photos,” he said. It was almost as if the thief wanted to be taken in. Or more likely, that he wanted his “Sinner Stripes,” as they were called. Stefano’s son wanted to be able to say he served time, like his dad. Now that John had him in custody, he was hoping Lee would talk. Would tell him more about T.J. and Kenny. Tell him where to find them. John Winston wanted nothing more than to see those two men behind bars for the rest of their lives, and Stefano’s son might very well be the linchpin to making that happen. Lee’s mother was the one who’d tipped off the cops in the first place about the role T.J. and Kenny had played in the murder of Thomas Paige two decades ago.

That was their first accessory to murder.

Didn’t seem to have been their last.

John’s blood boiled over the evidence he’d amassed linking those two men to other crimes, and more unsolved murders. By all accounts, T.J. Nelson had embraced his job as the broker of Stefano’s hits, working with other gunmen over the years that followed, taking his role as the planner and plotter to a new level. He was the man pulling the strings on hits for the Sinners, and Kenny was his right-hand guy. John was determined to find them, especially since he’d learned that T.J. had had words with Thomas Paige several weeks before the man was killed. John was talking to other witnesses later today who knew more about that encounter, and he fiercely hoped he’d be able to link all the details together and track down the Nelson cousins.

They were tough to nab. Harder to find. They’d earned some kind of protection from their brothers in the gang. Some of that protection had come in the form of Lee Stefano trying to keep Marcus quiet by intimidating the social worker he’d been confiding in. John wasn’t one hundred percent sure why those men wanted Marcus’s mouth zipped, but he had a few good leads. Marcus was untouchable; they’d never hurt him. But they needed him to keep their secrets quiet, so they’d tried to shut him down.

John, however, needed Marcus to talk. He believed that Marcus knew more than he’d told him when they met a week ago.

“Is Lee going to leave Elle alone now?” Marcus asked.

Maybe the threat to someone he cared about would push him into talking finally. “Yes, we’ve got him. And I think we can get him to give up some info on Kenny and T.J.”

“What about my stepmom, though? Will they leave her alone?”

John arched an eyebrow. This was news to him. “Someone sending her harassing messages, too?”

Marcus nodded, his young eyes etched with worry. “I saw her a few days ago, at Baskin Robbins with my little sisters. I overheard her talking on the phone. I think she’s worried that those guys are going after her.”

“To make sure your dad stays quiet about all that he knows about the murder of Thomas Paige?” John asked, hoping Marcus would finally give him an answer.

Ever since John had uncovered the details of Dora Prince’s drug trade—that the woman was a dealer, Stefano was her supplier, and she sold to the Nelson cousins and many, many others—he was sure that her ex-lover had intel about the business she’d been in. Luke claimed he met Dora at Narcotics Anonymous, but John wasn’t convinced that’s how the affair began. Nor did he buy that Luke’s hands were clean. Because as John saw it, Dora Prince planned the murder of her husband to get his life insurance money so she could run away with her kids and her lover.

Luke had to know something about the murder. Especially given the leads John was chasing down about him.

And if someone was trying to shake down Marcus’s stepmom now, well, that only bolstered John’s belief that Luke was keeping quiet.

Just like his son was.

But the son was here. Marcus was trying. He just needed to feel safe.

“I can protect you,” John said calmly. “I can protect her. That’s what I do.”

Marcus hung his head, exhaled, then lifted his face and met John’s eyes. He started talking, and holy hell-of-a-secret, this was the mother lode. This was the golden goose of information.