She crouched in the weeds as four men bumbled their way down from the house, their flashlight focused on the lake. Her hand throbbed, but she had no time to nurse it. Somehow she had to return to the house without the men seeing her. Snatch Jimmy from his bed and hide.
The men shouted when they saw Simon. Swore. Then they yanked him out of the water.
She couldn’t hear the men, but Simon, she heard clearly. Shouting her name.
The flashlight beam swung across the grass. With her heart aching even more than her hand, she rushed back into the trees and up the hill.
Greta... she couldn’t think about her daughter right now.
She had to save Jimmy before the men found him too.
37:Simon
Mud clung to Simon’s shirt, his trousers soaked clean through. Someone had hauled him out of the ice and dropped him on a pile of stone.
Why couldn’t he feel his hands? His feet?
Curse that woman. Izzy. She must’ve cracked him over the head with a hammer.
Next time, he wouldn’t wait to kill her.
Cold sliced through him, then heat. And voices—they whirled around him, all muddled up.
Had Izzy called the cops?
He couldn’t open his eyes, but she wasn’t supposed to be here tonight. Only Olivia.
Olivia and her cash.
Now he’d have to find another way.
The girl—Greta—had wanted to see her papa. He’d promised to take her there, carrying her to... where had he left her?
He’d find her. Soon. And then the professor would pay.
Money.The word hit him like a shot.
He’d tell the cops about Izzy—and, and, that other woman. Whatever her name was. His wife. Tell the boys she was trying to cut him out. They’d get him his cash, then he’d pay back his uncle. And move. Far, far away.
To Chicago.
Sounds sputtered in his throat, but his lips wouldn’t work.
He shouldn’t have drunk that whiskey. Once his head cleared, once he could talk, he’d splain everything.
A voice above him, thick as mud. “What are we gonna do with him, boss?”
Louie the Leech, sucking the life out of him again. He’d already given Simon a bloody shiner.
Where were the cops?
“We’re leaving him here,” another man said. “That’s what we’re doing.”
Someone dumped cold water over his head, light burning his eyes when he forced them open. Flames all bunched up like dynamite around him.
“He’s awake,” Louie said.
“Get up, Simon.” His uncle’s voice. The man who’d welcomed him into the Cleveland family.
