As Mickey hurried up to the back door, he could hear shouting inside. He drew his guns, looking to Roger.
Roger heard it too. He nodded in understanding and stepped forward, opening the door so Mickey could dive through.
Valdemar had Rufus pinned down on the kitchen table, strangling him. Jules was half-heartedly trying to pull him off while a very frantic Duncan was pleading, “Come on, guys! No! Stop! This isn’t helping!”
“What in the actual fuck?” Mickey barked, putting his guns away once he saw there wasn’t any immediate danger.
“Hey!” Jules waved. “We thought you guys got pinched.”
“What the fuck happened?”
“Where’s Crybaby?” Roger demanded. “We saw all these fuckin’ cops down at the safe house!”
“I would love to tell you,” Rufus gurgled, “if you’d get this bastard off me!”
“Tell me where my grandson is!” Valdemar hollered, banging Rufus’ head on the table.
“Crybaby is here! Safe!” Jules promised. “She’s upstairs in the guest room!”
“And now I just need to know where my darling grandson is!” barked Valdemar as he continued to throttle Rufus.
“Let him up,” Roger snapped. “Come on!”
“Little help, Jules?” Mickey drawled. He wasn’t about to get in the middle of that. Valdemar was old but apparently quite spry.
Jules wrapped his arms around Valdemar’s middle and plucked him off Rufus like a misbehaving puppy. “Enough of that, okay? Let the man speak.”
“Christ, you’re all insane,” Rufus wheezed as he slid off the table and rubbed his neck. “All of you!”
“I’d be careful who you call insane when you’re really, really outnumbered, buddy,” Roger cautioned. “Now spill or else we’ll let Valdemar cuddle your neck some more.”
“I got a call from a dear friend who said we should get ready for some unexpected company at the safe house,” Rufus said curtly. “He was right.”
“Say what the fuck you mean.” Roger groaned.
“My friend is a judge and was stalling on signing a search warrant for the safe house. You were all, ahem, occupied, so I took it upon myself to relocate Crybaby while I could. Duncan and Valdemar moved her, and I stayed behind at the safe house with little Thirdsies to wait for the rest of you so we could warn you.”
“Where’s Cold?”
“Well, it seems like he did himself a little bit of hunting while he was out.” Rufus straightened his collar. “After Duncan and Valdemar left with Crybaby, he shows up with a very unwilling Marco Luchesi—”
“Marco?” Mickey scowled.
“Yes. He shows up with Marco and wants to take a little trip. We go. We had ourselves a lovely time.”
Judging by Rufus’ nasty smile, Mickey assumed Marco Luchesi was now dead.
“After our little adventure,” Rufus continued, “we came back to fetch Thirdsies, but the police were already there. No Thirdsies.”
“Thought your judge friend was stalling?” Mickey asked.
“He did. The police went to someone else who was willing to sign. There’s more than one judge in Strassen Springs, you know.”
“Where’s my boy then?” Valdemar demanded. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Rufus replied sharply. “We didn’t exactly go over and knock on the door and ask the officers, ‘Hi, have any of you seen a small arsonist? Likes to wear a hoodie and blow things up?’”
“That all check out with you?” Mickey addressed Jules.
