Lawyer Trap

71





DAY ELEVEN–SEPTEMBER 15

THURSDAY MORNING


Draven woke around 9:00 a.m. feeling like a dried leather shoe. His muscles screamed from burying the tow-truck woman out in the goddamned rock-infested mountains yesterday. Burying the stripper later in the day had been a lot easier, but had still taken its toll.

He looked at Gretchen, still sleeping.

Nice.

He stretched and hit the shower, getting the water as hot as he could stand it. Unfortunately, today he’d need those same muscles again, to bury the tattoo woman.

He didn’t care.

Putting an end to that phase of his life would be worth it, whatever the cost.

When he got out of the shower, Gretchen was up and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with hot coffee made.

“So what’s the plan today?” she asked.

“I have some surveillance work I need to do,” he said.

“Can I come?”

He laughed.

“No,” he said. “It’s all confidential stuff.”

“Can you drop me off downtown first, then?”

“Why?”

“The Granada won’t start,” she said. “And I don’t feel like sitting around here by myself all day.”

He nodded.

Then he pulled out his wallet and gave her a thousand dollars.

“In case you see something you need to have,” he said.

They ate breakfast.

Then she gave him a long slow blowjob, until he came in her mouth.

He dropped her off downtown, gave her a long sloppy kiss, turned the radio to an oldies station, and then wove his way into the mountains toward the cabin.

On the way, Swofford called with bad news.

“The client’s schedule got all jacked up yesterday and he didn’t make it into town,” Swofford said. “So we’re going to Plan B, which is, you go up to the cabin and feed the woman, let her go to the bathroom, walk her around a little, etcetera. Basically, just keep her alive and in relatively good shape.”

Draven slammed his hand on the dashboard.

“This is nuts,” he said.

Swofford couldn’t agree more but said, “We have no choice.”

“Yeah?” Draven said. “Well you know what I think? I think that when I get up there this morning I’m going to find that the poor woman choked on her own tongue last night.”

Swofford laughed.

“I hear you, but this guy’s paid a lot of money. We owe him some indulgence.”

“This is more trouble than it’s worth,” Draven said.

“Sometimes that’s the way it works,” Swofford said.

Draven shifted thoughts.

“I scooped out this new one—Davica Holland—last night,” he said. “She’s a rich bitch, meaning she’s going to be a lot trickier than the average snatch.”

“I know that.”

“A lot trickier,” Draven emphasized. “I’m thinking twenty-five grand trickier.”

Swofford laughed.

“Nice try, but I’ve already given the client a fixed price. Here’s the good news, though. No rush with her. Take your time, do it right, and then let me know when you have her. The client’s totally flexible on the timing. Don’t hurt her, though. She can’t be marked up.”

“Has he paid yet?”

“Yep, cold hard cash.”

“Good.”

“As soon as you have her, let me know and I’ll get your cut to you.”

Suddenly a deer appeared on the road.

From out of nowhere.

Just standing there, staring at the vehicle.

Draven hit the brakes as hard as he could.