He glanced, for the millionth time, at the paper crumpled in his fist. The picture he’d printed of the bastard he’d come here to kill.Deputy Commonwealth Attorney Joseph Chisholm.Just thinking the name sent another one of those furious tremors through his body, so strong it should have shaken his truck, should have unbalanced the statue’s fucking scales.
Swallowing back another mouthful of bile, he sat in this parking spot and watched the comings and goings of every pathetic cog in the system. Finally, too taut to stay folded up in his seat a moment longer, he got out and slammed the door.
Fuck, he hated courthouses. Hated lawyers. Hated this goddamned joke of a justice system that let bad people get away with so much evil.
He hadn’t eaten all day, but the hunger felt like strength—a fire in his gut mixed with the fury and this achingneed.
He’d stay here, at the front of the building, where he was bound to see the fucker sooner or later. Unless he hadn’t come to work. Ive paced back and forth, up and down, eyes searching, skittering from one person to the next. The lulls were the worst, because there was nowhere to focus. Nowhere to put this…this…this fucking thing, this illness or whatever the fuck it was trying to tear itself free from his gut.
Jesus, what if he didn’t come to work today?
Running a hand over his hot, sweaty brow, he turned to squint at the building’s front door, then headed inside.
“’Scuse me,” he rasped out to one of the guys at security.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah.” Fuck, his chest hurt. “Supposed to meet someone. Uh, Joseph Chisholm. He here today?”
The man looked at his colleague, his face squinted in a way that would have been comical if in a different situation—a different world. Slow, too slow. Ive wanted to take him by the throat. To shake the memory out of the man’s brain and into his mouth and—
“Hey, Sid. You seen Joey C. today?”
“Nope.”
Fuck no.
“He have an office someplace or—”
“Wait, hold on. I’n’t he on the Seilheimer trial? Judge Herndon? Yeah, they’re in there. He musta got in early, before we came on.” The man looked at his watch. “Should be out in a bit.”
Ive wasn’t sure if he managed athanksbefore he turned and headed for the door. He was here. The man wasright herein this building, and the anger was eating Ive up alive.
“You could sign in and wait right—”
He spun back, so fast his vision blurred, and he had to shake it clear again.
“There another way out of this place? Another exit?”
After a pause, the first man responded, “No, sir,” and Ivan shoved back outside, where he’d try to breathe. If only he could get some fucking air.
This was it. Today. Joey Chisholm would die today.
Uma wouldn’t need to spend another night afraid.
26
“Ivan’s still not answering.” Jessie ended the call again, phone clutched in her hand. They stood on Cookie’s front porch with no idea what to do next.
“Shit. Shit! Okay, do it. Call the sheriff again. Call Steve. I’ll turn myself in. Whatever I have to do.”
“What if it’s too late? If we don’t get the cops involved, we can—” Jessie stopped, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “You’re right. We have to call.”
She started to make the call when Uma stopped her, suddenly calm. So completely calm.
“I’ll call him.”
“He’s not answering.”
