“What do you make of the escape?”
“It could be a coincidence that Horse has recently been talking tough, but…”
“You don’t think so.” Neither did she. Not anymore. All that unease she’d been denying, that was intuition, warning her that her life was about to change.
“No. No one’s seen Ink. Unless it was a quick pass-through, he hasn’t shown up in L.A. Rex would’ve heard about it if he had. Rex was just there.”
Virgil didn’t add that Rex was there “partying with old friends,” but Vivian knew what he meant.
“He heard what Horse has been saying, right?” he went on. “Stands to reason he would’ve heard about Ink, too. This is bigger news.”
“Ink scares me.” Vivian would never forget Colorado, how he’d attempted to kill her and her children. How close he’d come to succeeding. To her, he represented everything evil and depraved.
“Rex is with you now. That makes me feel better.”
She lowered her voice. “He can’t stay here, Virgil.”
“Why not?”
Because she didn’t want to fall prey to old habits. They’d gained some distance from the heartbreak that’d taken such a toll on them both. She couldn’t survive a relapse, didn’t want to watch Rex suffer any more, either. “He’s using again.”
“He says he isn’t.”
“Then it’s alcohol. It’s…something. You should see him.”
“It’s only been two weeks since he was here, Laurel.”
“Add two weeks of sleepless nights to that and you might have some idea. He’s lost a lot of weight during the past year, maybe thirty pounds. And he wasn’t heavy to begin with.”
“I know. We need to get him some counseling.”
Judging by his voice, Virgil felt out of his depth—and so did she. No one could change Rex’s life if he wasn’t willing to fight the good fight, and she didn’t get the feeling he’d make that kind of commitment.
Hearing a sudden noise, Vivian glanced up. Rex was standing in the doorway, staring at her with an inscrutable expression. He’d heard some, if not all, of what she’d said about him.
“Okay, well, Rex and I will talk about it,” she said into the phone.
“Keep me posted,” Virgil responded.
“Virgil.” She stopped her brother before he could hang up. “They could be coming after you and Peyton instead, you know.”
“I’ve thought of that.”
“You’re not worried?”
“I’m worried, but like I said, if I know Ink, he’s going to want to kill you first.”
Dimly, she realized how different their conversations must be from those of normal people. “Why?”
“Because his revenge won’t be complete unless I know about it.”
A dial tone sounded in her ear; Virgil was gone.
Although she didn’t look up again, Vivian could feel the weight of Rex’s gaze as she returned the phone to its base. “Where are the kids?”
“Setting up a game I promised to play if they gave me a few minutes to speak with you.”
Feeling guilty that she’d even thought he might’ve let her location slip, she turned to face him. “Ink busted out of prison.”
He didn’t seem all that surprised, and yet she didn’t get the impression he’d already known. “Nice.”
“But…he couldn’t find us.”
“Do you really believe that?”
It was what she wanted to believe. That they were safe. That they could continue with what they’d created since the last move. That Pat’s murder was unrelated. “No.”
After crossing to the opposite counter, he refilled his coffee. “There are too many ways to narrow it down.”
“But I’ve been so careful.”
“How careful?”
“Very careful.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Have you reached out to anyone from your former life?”
She couldn’t quite claim that. “You’re the only one I’ve called from here.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
His hand trembled as he lifted his cup. She wished she hadn’t noticed it. She couldn’t deal with seeing him like this, not in addition to everything else. “Okay…yes. I’ve called others. But—”
“What phone did you use?”
How was he still functioning? She’d never met anyone whose body could take such abuse. She’d bet he hadn’t been lucid since he left New York. “A pay phone. There are several in town.” She preferred to leave it at that, but her guilty conscience dragged out the detail she’d been hoping to ignore. “And…once, just once, I used the phone at the Golden Griddle.”
“What?”
She repeated it, louder, and he scowled. “What’s the Golden Griddle?”
“A restaurant in town. They serve breakfast.”
“Shit.”
“You’re not going to get mad, are you? Because that would be ironic. As a matter of fact, I think that would be about as ironic as anything I’ve ever heard, considering what you’ve done to yourself since we broke up.”
He gave her a look that warned her away from the subject but didn’t respond to that statement. Instead, he asked, “Why that phone?”
“Because it seemed safe. My friend Leah works there. She asked me to help get her car into the shop, but when I showed up to follow her over, she wasn’t quite ready. So I sat in the back while she cleaned. The kids were with a woman who’s become a surrogate grandmother to them, the restaurant was closed and the phone was right there. I liked the privacy, the chance to say something that couldn’t be overheard by Jake and Mia or people on the street. This is such a small town.”
He blew out a sigh and leaned against the counter. “Who’d you call?”
She was embarrassed to admit this. If he’d been Virgil, she couldn’t have brought herself to tell him. Because she’d called the one person she shouldn’t even want to talk to—someone she often claimed she didn’t want to talk to. “My mother.”
When he didn’t say anything, she added, “But if The Crew traces the call, it won’t matter. It’s a restaurant.”
He shook his head. “Babe, a restaurant in Pineview, Montana. Population one thousand or less. If Ink comes here, you don’t think he’ll be able to find you?”