‘Fuck you!’ Delilah screamed. ‘She’s fucking dead if you don’t do what you’re supposed to do!’
‘Where is she?’ Angie repeated.
‘You mean your daughter?’ Dale struggled to get out of the car. In the moonlight, his face looked almost completely white. There were flecks of dried skin around his mouth. His eyes were golden. He leaned heavily on the car. He had a revolver pointed at her across the roof.
‘Kill her!’ Delilah screamed. ‘Blow her fucking brains out.’
‘It’s just a flesh wound,’ Dale said. He was out of breath from getting out of the car. His skin was shiny, but not with sweat. ‘Take her gun.’
Angie pointed the Glock at Delilah’s head. ‘Try it.’
Dale told Angie, ‘You shoot her, I shoot you, I still get what I want because I got your daughter and you know what I can do to your grandson.’
Angie’s determination wavered. Jo. She had to think about Jo. If she thought about what Dale would do to Anthony, she wouldn’t make it through the night.
Dale said, ‘Dee, take the gun away from her.’
Delilah limped over. Her hand reached out, but Angie threw the Glock across the parking lot.
‘Shit,’ Dale said. ‘Go get the gun.’
‘I don’t need no gun.’ Delilah flicked open a switchblade and pointed it at Angie’s cheek. ‘You see how sharp this is, bitch? I can slice open the side of your face like a watermelon.’
‘Do it.’ Angie looked her cousin in the eye. The same color iris. The same almond shape. The same fiery bluster, except Angie had the balls to back it up. ‘If you don’t cut me now, then the next time you see that knife, I’ll be cutting your eyes out of your head.’
‘None of you is doing shit. Put the fucking knife away.’ Dale’s tone of voice should’ve been a warning, but Delilah knew he would never hurt her. He said, ‘Search the car.’ When she didn’t move, he said, ‘Dee, please. Search the car.’
Delilah slapped the handle against the back of her hand and worked the blade closed.
‘Hey.’ Dale banged on the roof, waiting for Angie’s attention.
She looked at him. Her heart stopped. For just a moment, she forgot why they were here. Dale was dying. Not eventually. Not soon. He was dying right now. She could see the effects of his organs shutting down. His lips were blue. He wasn’t blinking. He had stopped sweating. The color of his skin reminded her of the thick, yellowed wax that she had to scrape off the coffee table if she left the candle burning too long. There was no spark in his eyes, just a dull, weary acceptance. Death shadowed every crevice of his heavily lined face.
Angie looked away so that he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.
He said, ‘Deidre Will?’
The alias Angie had written on Jo’s birth certificate under MOTHER.
Dale said, ‘You didn’t think I’d start snooping when you asked for the job at One-Ten?’
Angie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Will’s ring was still on her finger. She turned it around so that Dale couldn’t see it. ‘Where is Jo?’
‘Good as dead.’ Delilah was rummaging around inside Angie’s purse. ‘I’m gonna stick my knife in that bitch’s chest.’
Angie snatched the bag away. She asked Dale, ‘Where is Jo? What did you do to her?’
‘She’s safe for now.’ His eyelids were heavy. Saliva pooled into the corners of his mouth. The gun in his hand was held at an angle. ‘Whether or not she stays safe depends on what you do.’
Angie repeated, ‘Where is she?’
Dale nodded toward the club. The chain on the door had been cut. The only thing that kept Angie from running was Dale’s revolver. He would use it. He wouldn’t kill her, but he would stop her.
‘Dammit!’ Delilah yelled. She was rooting around the trunk. She found the go-bag, the bottle of transmission fluid. ‘It’s not here, Daddy.’
Angie said, ‘Is that what you call your husband?’
‘Shut up, bitch.’
‘Both of you shut up.’ Dale asked Angie, ‘Where’s the iPad?’
‘Nowhere you’ll ever find it.’ Angie had used some of the cash from Dale’s trunk to bribe the motel manager again. She remembered thinking if things went sideways, she wanted to make sure Will never found the video.
Dale said, ‘You forgetting I have your daughter trussed up like a steer?’
Angie didn’t buy the bluff. ‘You won’t hurt her. She’s too valuable.’
‘Fig doesn’t want her back. Tainted goods. She made her choice.’
Angie knew this wasn’t true. Jo had said it herself. Reuben Figaroa didn’t lose.
Dale asked, ‘What’s on the video?’
‘More money than you could imagine,’ Angie answered. ‘We can figure this out together, Dale. People don’t have to get hurt.’
He smiled. ‘You want to share the cut.’
‘Fuck that,’ Delilah said. ‘Bitch ain’t gettin’ none of my money.’
‘Baby, shut your mouth.’ Dale didn’t have to raise his voice. Delilah knew there were some things she couldn’t get away with.
He told Angie, ‘Go get the iPad. Bring it back to me. Then we’ll talk.’
Angie tried to bargain with him. ‘You’re close to the end. I can see it, Dale. You’re going to need my help.’
He shrugged, but he had to know he had hours, maybe just minutes, before he was gone.
She said, ‘Delilah won’t be able to negotiate with Kip. You said it yourself. She’ll take a handful of magic beans.’
Delilah started to protest, but Dale stopped her with a look.
‘She can’t deal with Kip Kilpatrick. He’ll eat her for lunch.’
‘You think I’m going to leave it to her?’
Angie tasted bile in her mouth. ‘Who has Anthony?’
‘Your grandson?’ Delilah laughed. ‘You decrepit old bitch. Got a twelve-year-old grandbaby.’
‘He’s six, you idiot.’ Angie asked Dale. ‘Where is he?’
‘Don’t worry about the kid,’ Dale said. ‘Worry about yourself.’
‘You didn’t . . .’ Angie’s pulse drummed in her throat, pounded in her head. There was only one other person who scared her more than Dale. ‘Who did you give him to?’
‘Who do you think?’ Delilah started to laugh again. Angie kicked her in the knee. The girl screamed as she dropped to the ground.
Dale said, ‘Angela,’ but it was too late.
She didn’t care that he had a gun pointed at her head. Angie ran toward the building. She couldn’t move fast enough. Every step seemed to take her farther away. She yanked open the door. The blackness of the building engulfed her. She couldn’t get her bearings. Shadows grew out of the floor.
‘Jo?’ she yelled. ‘Jo, where are you?’
Nothing.
She looked over her shoulder. Delilah had gotten back up. She was running at an awkward gait, her injured leg slowing her down.
Angie went deeper into the building. Trash was everywhere. Shards of glass cut open her bare feet. Her purse snagged on something. The leather tore open. Her eyes started to adjust. Dance floor. Bar at the back. Balcony above. Two darkened windows filtered the moon. There were rooms upstairs.
The front door banged open. Delilah. She was an outline against the shadows. She had the switchblade in her hand.
‘Dee!’ Dale’s voice was faint behind her. ‘We need her alive.’
‘Fuck that,’ Delilah whispered, not to Dale, but to Angie.
Angie crouched down. She searched in vain for something to use against the girl. She was numb to the sensation of her hands being sliced open. Crack pipes. Pacifiers. Condoms. Useless pieces of nothing.
Delilah’s shoes crunched across the floor.
Angie looked up. The balcony. The rooms. All of them with doors. Only one of them closed.
She ran toward the stairs. She tripped. Her knee hit the concrete edge of the tread, but she kept going. She had to get to Jo. She had to save her daughter. She had to tell her that she would never threaten Anthony, that he was precious, that she would do whatever she could to protect him, that she would not abandon her grandson to the same fate that Angie had been abandoned to herself.