But if he hadn't been killed, the question was... where was he?
"There," Nixon said, stabbing the screen as the back doors opened, revealing the three dark figures and the man they were pushing around.
"Savea hadn't been exaggerating." The footage was the worst I had ever seen. And I had seen video from fifteen-dollar cameras bought online and hooked up. You could barely tell one body from another, let alone make out any features.
"Nope. But they left him alive," Nixon added after fast-forwarding the video to when the men returned after having scared the crap out of Savvy, going at Harry for another few minutes before one leaned threateningly over him, likely issuing a stiff warning, then all of them heading out to the back lot, parked just far enough back that you couldn't see makes let alone plates.
Alone, Harry rolled to his side, spitting onto the floor, pushing up on all fours, hand pressing into his ribs as he slowly got to his feet. He gathered his pride, managed to unpin the back doors, and disappeared outside into his car.
Where he went was anyone's guess.
Home, I hoped.
Where I could access him, figure out what he had gotten into, find a way to get Savea off these guys' radar.
"You have to get her settled first," Nixon said, reading my mind.
It was an old trick, one that came from living - and working - side-by-side for so many years. You couldn't pull off the shit we'd pulled off for so long without getting caught - and locked up for a decade or two - without being able to think on the same wavelength, know what the others' next move would be.
"And are you sure your place would be secure enough without you there?" If the guys knew what door she had hidden behind, likely not. Especially since Padfoot was the world's worst security dog. "And why haven't you called the Mallicks in on this?" he asked, shooting me an accusatory glance. Our sister Scotti's, in-laws would be all over this if I gave them any information, instead of the gentle probe I had sent off via text asking for any updates on new players in town that they likely attributed to one of my other clients. "Is it maybe because you know they would charge in and take over, and you want to keep Savvs all to yourself?"
"Alright, eno..." My words cut off to the sound of Savea letting out a shrill squeaking sound, making both of us jump, turn, and make our way out of the office at the same time. Charging through the store, my heart skipped into overdrive thinking of them coming back, getting her, dragging her out to a car before I could save her.
"What's the matter?" Nixon asked when we found her, by herself, safe, holding the top of an aquarium outstretched, eyes saucers.
"She knows I hate her," she declared, taking a slow, deep breath. "And she is holding it against me."
"Who hates you?" I asked, moving closer, ducking down to look into the seemingly empty aquarium.
"The beady-eyed abomination of nature and all things good and sweet and fluffy," she informed me, making a chuckle move through me despite the clear fear keeping her body stiff.
"Sweetheart, there's nothing in the tank," I told her after another glance.
"What!" she shrieked, tossing the top of the aquarium toward Nixon who had good enough reflexes to snag it before it hit the ground as she frantically rubbed her hands over herself. Then, spinning in a circle, "Is she on me? Oh, God. I can feel her all over me."
"I'm thinking the beady-eyed freak is some sort of bug," Nixon surmised as my hands moved out, grabbing her shoulders, stilling her.
"Nothing is on you. Take a breath. What is it?"
"A tarantula," she explained, casting glances around the floor, over my body, like the thing might have leaped on me without me feeling it.
"You've worked here since you were a kid, and a spider is freaking you out?" Nixon asked, placing the top down on the other aquariums, ducking down to try to find the missing eight-legged creature. "There she is," he said, reaching out toward it.
"Careful of her belly spears!"
"Okay, you're fucking with me, right?" Nixon asked as he grabbed the tarantula by the back, lifting her in the air. "It's a spider."
"They have spiky hair on their bellies and if they're scared, they rub them on their legs and shoot them at what they're scared of."
"And I'm sure that would be terrifying if I were a grasshopper," Nixon said with a slight eye roll before dropping the tarantula back into her enclosure. "Does it need anything else?"
"Just drop some of those grasshoppers in with her," Savea explained, happy to delegate the task. Her hands were still running up and down her arms like she felt the hairy legs crawling on her. "Did you guys find anything?"