COTTON
December 14
Dear Shiloh,
I did it.
He’s too fricking smart for me to have gotten much, but it might be enough, if I can figure out who to trust.
Justin was there again today. I saw him watching me from his station, so I sent him an interoffice message that I needed to speak to his father. He was in my face in thirty seconds, telling me to watch myself.
“Make it happen,” I told him, and if I ran to the ladies’ room and puked afterwards...well, no one needs to know except us and a few llamas.
The general and the same henchman from last time pulled up behind me when I got home. I didn’t even look at them; just walked inside and left the door open.
While they were coming up the walk, I turned on my voice recording app and set my phone face down on the couch, as though I’d tossed it there. Then I waited, hands on hips, for them to come in.
I didn’t salute that mother fucker. He didn’t deserve that respect.
His jaw ticked when he entered my living room and saw me standing there in relaxed posture, but he didn’t comment. And although I was the one shaking in my shoes, I’d venture to say he knew I pretty much had him over a barrel.
He was testy when he spoke. “What is so critical that you had to speak to me, young woman?”
I sat on my sofa and crossed my legs, trying my best to look relaxed. “You caught me by surprise the other night, General. Now that I’ve had time to think about things, I want to know what guarantee I have that moving to Virginia and remaining quiet will be in my best interest? How do I know your son won’t be going around raping other women if I do keep my mouth shut?”
His face. God, Shy. It gave me chills.
“You’re just going to have to take my word on that.”
“I’m afraid I need more than your word. I only trust the word of my friends, and you’re not them.”
“I will keep my son in line, I can assure you. You, on the other hand...”
He paused, and rubbed his chin. “Let’s put it this way, Bishop. Things will go a lot better for you if you refrain from talking.”
“Refrain from talking. That means no police, obviously, but is that a reference to Michael Bennett’s death? Did you kill him because I went to see him?”
He smiled. “Are you thinking about his suicide? Very unfortunate young man. I understand you visited him several days ago.”
“For pain meds, General. I had these cuts and contusions, you see. A possible rib fracture from where your son kicked me.”
“Yes, well. You no doubt did something to deserve it.”
“You’re evil.”
“And you’re nothing. Nobody. I’m glad we understand each other, Bishop.” He looked around my apartment, surveying the boxes I’d begun packing. A moving company was scheduled to arrive at the end of the month and take them to whatever address I supplied them with. Until then, they’d stay in storage. “Everything all set for your move?”
I lifted my chin in acknowledgement.
“Excellent. I have several friends and contacts in Virginia. I do hope to hear good things from them.”
Again, I nodded. Message received. He’d be watching me.
With a final superior smile, he left, and with hands that shook, I turned the phone over to look at my attempt. I sank back against the couch, completely exhausted all of a sudden.
It had worked.
I didn’t know what I was going to do with it, or even if I would do anything. But I had it, at least. He hadn’t said anything obviously incriminating, but it would still be damaging if released to the right people.
