“He wanted to know did I know where you were, because he ain’t in Howardville, and that ‘mess’ hasn’t been cleared up at all. He found blood on the floor of a parking garage in downtown Atlanta, and has a movie of you doing a Jackie Chan impersonation on a kid with a knife.”
Rye pinched the bridge of his nose hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“Guess that answers if it’s true or not.”
He could feature the workout Dash was giving his cigar. For this occasion, he might have lit it. “Listen, Dash, I don’t know why Wilson called you—”
“Only contact they had for you.”
Rye thought of his parents, and his stomach bottomed out. “You didn’t give Wilson any next-of-kin info, did you?”
“Hell, no, I played a regular dunce. But I’d kinda like to know what I’m covering you for. Felony or a misdemeanor?”
“Vengeance. That kid with the knife was the one who zapped me with the laser.”
“Figured that might be it. But how was it that he was your ride to Atlanta?”
“Wilson knew about that?”
“Oh, yeah. The man’s a wizard. He knows all about you and the lady doc
tor shacking up in a low-rent cabin, about these two heavies hauling you outta there in a black Mercedes, and delivering you to Dr. Lambert. Who, Wilson said, was none too happy to learn that she had lied to him, obviously so she could run off with you again.
“They know that’s how come she lied because Wilson and APD have another movie of you, this one of you and Dr. O’Neal rendezvousing in the parking garage. Not all that tenderly, though. Wilson said it looked to him like she was reluctant to go with you at first, but that you succeeded in luring her out.”
“Hardly luring.”
“What would you call it? Coercing? Strong-arming? Kidnapping? If I was you, I’d settle for luring.”
Rye ignored everything except the fact that Wilson and Rawlins had tracked Brynn and him to Atlanta. If they had security camera video of what had taken place on the third and ground levels of the garage, it probably wouldn’t be long before they got the tag number of the Uber car that had taken them to the hotel.
“Dash, did you give Wilson this phone number?”
“No.”
“Or tell him about the hotel you booked for me?”
“Played dumb about everything. Are you at the hotel now?”
“No.”
“Huh. I thought maybe you and the doctor were availing yourselves of—”
“No.”
“Then where are you?”
Rye didn’t respond.
Dash said, “You’re not going to tell me diddly, are you?”
“If Wilson comes back to you and applies pressure, you can truthfully say you don’t know anything.”
“Just tell me if you’re okay. You were the one bleeding in that garage.”
“The guy cut my hand, but not bad. I got my revenge.”
“You didn’t castrate him.”