“Son, your mother has me doing a head count. She wants me to make sure you’ll be in town on Election Day for the results. She’s planning a gathering at the compound.”
“Yes, sir. You can tell Mom that I will be there.”
“Good, good. And will you bring Donatella or will she have to work?”
“She took off. We’ll be there early in case you guys need help.”
“Great. But I don’t think we’ll need help. Your mother is the best at planning these events.” Victor Senior chuckled. “She’s in her element.”
Lincoln laughed. His dad was right. Even if he tried to help, he’d just be in the way. His mother handled things her way and her way only. “Well, we’ll be there.”
“Very good, son. I’ll talk with you later.”
“Okay, Dad. Later.”
Lincoln ended the call and looked at the orange rays that peeked before the sun rose over the Chicago skyline. The beauty of a living portrait held his attention until a door opened at the lockup entrance of the 1st police district. He watched as the offenders exited the building until he saw the one he’d been waiting for. When the tall Asian man in black exited with the rest of the released prisoners, Lincoln tapped the icon to call Donna.
“Is that him?” he asked when she answered.
“You’re looking for a tall, Asian wearing a black jacket and black cargo pants. He shouldn’t be hard to spot because he’s the only Asian that bonded out tonight.”
“Okay, got him.” Lincoln keyed into his team’s personal radio. “Take him!”
DONNA
Donna pulled into the parking lot of the abandoned candy factory, tucked her car in a parking spot near a large garbage dumpster, and climbed out. She walked over to the large, dilapidated building, noting how well the brick Brach’s Candy sign had held together after so many years.
After spotting the door she was looking for, Donna pulled the handle. It was unlocked like Lincoln had said. She stepped into darkness and frowned at the feeling of what she could only assume was dirty water. The thought of her clean, white Chuck Taylor’s soaking in a puddle evoked a frown.
Donna inhaled, immediately assaulted by the smell of mold and some form of flesh that had to have died a while ago. She shook it off, pulled out her phone, and activated the flashlight. There was a light around a corner about 25 yards ahead. The sound of hushed voices led her around a corner where Lincoln and some of his men were huddled up in deep conversation. The sound of her approach caused him to look up.
“Hey there.”
“Hey, you. I hope you’re having better luck than we did.”
“Not sure yet. But we’ll know in a minute.”
Donna tipped her head toward a rusty, steel door. “He in there?”
“He is,” Lincoln responded with a nod.
God only knew what was happening behind that door. But Donna was more concerned about the fact that she didn’t care. With her family in danger, her moral compass was spinning out of control. And if she were to be honest, she’d shattered the compass the night she had killed the preacher who’d shot her dad.
Donna looked around at the cracked bricks, broken windows, and filth. It was like standing in a structure from medieval times. She tried to picture the candy factory when itwas operational over twenty years ago, but she couldn’t. Twenty years of neglect had done a lot to the place, and it was perfect for what Lincoln had planned. In a small corner of the massive factory, he’d set up an efficient command center, complete with LED spotlights, laptops, and crates containing some kind of tools.
The screech coming from the heavy metal door pierced the silence. To Donna’s surprise, it was Lips and Tits the female members of Lincoln’s team of retired rangers that walked out. Lips and tits stepped out wearing a rubber apron that was covered in blood. Her blonde hair was secured in corn rolls, and her blue eyes appeared black. The blank look in her eyes made her appear dead on the inside.
Donna’s hand instinctively moved to her holster. She didn’t plan to shoot the woman. After all, they were on the same side. She knew Lips wasn’t a threat, but the blood on her hands and clothes made her look like she’d just stepped out of a horror movie.
A few feet away, Donna could feel Lincoln’s eyes on her, but she refused to look away. She moved forward. Curiosity convinced her that she needed to see what was behind the steel door. But Lincoln broke away from his crew and blocked her path. “You don’t want to do that.”
One of the guys from his team closed the door and asked,” So, Pam, is this asshole talking or what?”
She looked like a Pam.
“He’s a tough one, but he’s talking,” she confirmed with a satisfied grin.
“And?” Lincoln asked.
