I couldn’t remember the precise moment I’d crossed the line. Maybe there’d been no line, and the change in me had come on gradually, like sliding down a slippery slope so slowly you don’t realize you were falling.
Or maybe I’d just started seeing things from a different angle, and the black-and-white rules I’d lived by had turned to a dozen shades of gray.
Perhaps that’s what I told myself so I could sleep at night.
One thing was certain: I wasn’t letting Knox see the inside of a prison.
The question was how long I could pretend this was justice instead of revenge.
Chapter 29
Dani was seated at a two-top at Starbucks with a cup in front of her when James and I walked in at 2:55. We’d gotten here ten minutes early so we could search the area for any signs of a trap but came up with nothing.
She recognized James first, but it took her a few seconds to place me in my other wig. Her phone wasn’t in sight.
I slid into the chair across from her. James pulled up a third.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Contempt tightened her mouth. “I still don’t see how you’re gonna hold up your end of this deal.”
“We will,” James said. “You have my word.”
I resisted the urge to shoot him a look. Promising was one thing. Offering his word was another level of accountability, whether Dani believed in honor or not.
To my surprise, she did. Her attention shifted to him. “What are you gonna do with this?”
“If you’re worried it will lead back to you,” he said evenly, “it won’t. We’ll never tell where we got it.” His gaze held hers. “Will anyone at the club suspect you provided it?”
“No.” She sounded exhausted. “Ronnie—the security guard—got so high he won’t remember a thing.”
James nodded once. “Show us.”
She pulled out her phone and set it on the table, then tapped into her videos. At the bottom of the screen were four black-and-white thumbnails. She selected the first and hit play.
The footage was about an hour long. A man walked to a table and sat alone, watching the stage. The image was too grainy and washed out for me to catch his face clearly. Occasionally, he took sips of his drink.
James fast-forwarded. The man didn’t move much. Then, toward the end of the video, he pulled out his phone and made a call.
James slowed it down, and we rewatched the call. It lasted six seconds. Maybe less. After he ended the call, he tossed cash on the table and stood.
When the clip ended, Dani tapped on the next video. Same guy, different angle. His face still wasn’t clear, but we could make out his thick dark hair and glasses.
She opened the next clip. It showed him leaving the club, moving toward the entrance alcove. The video was short, maybe ten seconds, but as he passed closer to the camera, something in my chest went cold.
“I know him.”
James turned toward me.
I didn’t want to tell him who the man was in front of Dani, not if I wanted her to sleep tonight.
“There’s one more?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.
She nodded and tapped the final file.
The man walked into the parking lot, got into a dark sedan, but stayed put. The video kept going, so James fast-forwarded for nearly an hour until the car door opened and he walked toward the back of the building, out of sight. About twenty seconds later, he was back in the frame, this time holding a woman’s arm and leading her to his car. He opened the door to the backseat and shoved her in, then closed the door and got behind the wheel. Seconds later, he drove away. The license plate was blurry, but we could still make out the numbers and letters.
“Was that woman Wilhemina?” I asked.
