“They aren’t here,” he answers noncommittally.
Maybe that means he hasn’t gone through them himself, though not that it matters. I’m sure his friend would tell him everything he found.
“Can I give these names to Iron and let him run them?”
“You’re asking?” I admit to being surprised.
“He’s better at this shit than I am, and you’ve already tried.” He sounds so logical.
“I guess.” I wasn’t expecting that, and I’m not sure how to deal with it.
When he comes to sit down, he’s closer but still giving me enough distance so he would have ample warning if I tried to attack him. He lays the paper on the table, then snaps a quick photo. I probably should have tried to avoid that. It gives him more fuel to burn me with, but it’s not like I’m in a position to make a lot of demands.
I hear a phone ringing a few seconds later, then a man answers, “What’s up?”
“I have some information for you.”
“Pause this, baby, I’ll be right back,” he tells someone, and then there are some soft murmurs before he continues, “Hit me.”
“You’re on speaker,” Winger warns.
“Oh, I get to talk to the little stalker. How’s it going, Sneakerella?”
“I could say never better, but I’d be lying.”
“I have a list of names for you,” Winger interjects. “The first four need to be run down.” Winger reads off the names without the check marks.
“I’m good, Winger, but I could use more than names. Approximate ages, last known addresses, the kind of car they drive, anything…”
Winger looks to me for answers. I close my eyes and think back on a time I would love to forget, but only after I make them all pay. “All of them were in Michigan nine to twelve years ago, but I don’t have any addresses. I can give their ages a guess, but I would know their faces for sure.”
Both men are quiet as I say each name and try to remember their ages. When I’m done, Iron says, “I’ll see what I can find on them. Winger, I’ll message you a photo if I think I have a hit. What about the other names?”
“I have the address for the next five,” I tell him.
“That’s impressive, little stalker,” he says after I give him what I know. I can’t tell if he’s being facetious or giving me a real compliment, even though it’s a strange one. “One of these nine are who paid for the hit?”
“I don’t know who else it could be.”
“It’s a reasonable assumption. I can’t believe you were able to take out six of them before someone noticed.”
“Seven,” I correct without thought.
Winger looks down at the paper, probably counting the crossed off names. There are only six. The first person I killed isn’t on the sheet, though I did think about adding her later.
“Are you going to share with the rest of the class, little stalker? I only found info about six on your computer.”
“No, I don’t think I need to give you guys any more information to send me to prison.”
“To prison?” Iron scoffs. “If we need to get rid of you, we won’t involve the cops.” The line cuts off mid-laugh when he hangs up.
“No one’s going to kill you,” Winger tells me, slipping his cell back into his pocket. Too bad his words don’t instill much confidence in me about my future.
WINGER
If there was ever a time when I needed a drink, it’s now. I have no idea what to do with her or how this is going to end without it blowing up in my face. Iron already told me I should fuck her or get rid of her. I just don’t see either of those things happening in the near future.
Well, I didn’t until I caught her peeking into my room. She could have just been seeing where I was so she could try to escape, but it certainly didn’t seem like she was trying to get out of the apartment, which is what I feared when I heard her moving around. It looked more like she bumped into the table, and that could only be because she wasn’t watching where she was going.
