Page 207 of Property of Whiskey

“Daddy would come get me.”

“I know.”

She watches me another moment. “Cal would too.”

My tongue presses against the inside of my cheek.

Her smile turns mean. “Jealous?” Twila laughs.

I finally come around the counter.

She doesn’t move.

“You ain’t kidnapped anymore,” I tell her.

“I know.”

“Door ain’t locked.”

“I know.”

“You got your phone.”

“Eventually.”

“Clothes.”

“Some.”

“Enough attitude to cross three county lines without stopping.”

“Probably four.”

I plant my hands on the counter, one on either side of her, but leave enough room that she could duck under either arm and walk away.

“Why’d you come here?”

“For Wren.”

“Bullshit.”

“Prickle.”

“Bigger bullshit.”

“Kaylee.”

“Try again.”

“Pearly Gates.”

“Closer.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re insufferable.”

“Been established.”

“I need to know what happened to those girls.”