Page 96 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

Not the only other person who served as a family member to me.

Not Ira.

Ira… and my father’s girlfriend.

Working together.

Searching me for… something.

Likely striking me on the back of the head, knocking me down, making me do something even worse to my already-aching wrist.

Ira.

Who made me chicken noodle soup from scratch when I caught the ick that my father had, the one that sent us to his couch and guest room.

Ira, who once tied balloons to every tractor in the yard for my birthday.

Ira, who let me use his home address to get a library card so I could get free e-books when I had no actual permanent residence.

He was like an uncle.

But now, now he was hurting me.

For what?

Realization dawned slowly.

My father said he’d been mixed up with some bad people. Knowing what I knew about his deal with the Costas, I’d filled in the blanks with them.

What if it hadn’t been them at all he’d been running from?

What if it was Ira and his girlfriend?

What if Gavino was innocent in all this?

The hope that built in my chest would have been embarrassing if anyone else could see it.

“Stop!” I snapped, slapping the woman with my good hand as her hand went to my chest.

“They have to be on her somewhere,” Ira growled. “He would have given them to her, knowing we would never suspect her.”

Gave what to me?

“Ira, I don’t like this. Someone could come by. They’re probably in her apartment somewhere.”

“No. She loses things too easily. He would have given them to her in something she carried all the time. Where are they?”

Ira lunged forward, grabbing me by the front of my shirt, lifting me up off the ground.

“What?” I asked, my belly dropping to my feet.

“Don’t play dumb. He gave them to you. Where are they?”

“If you tell me—” I started.

I didn’t even get a chance to brace before I felt his fist colliding with my face.

The impact started at a central spot on my cheek but spread outward like a crack in glass until I felt it in my nose, teeth, eye, and jaw.