to go on until we checked the visitor log at the prison and found Diane’s name. Once we discovered her role in this unfortunate event, we knew she would lead us to the traitor inside our company.”
I turn and sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t understand. I thought you wanted my help finding the person responsible for cutting off my finger.”
“That’s exactly what we want. In this case, it just happens to be the same person.”
I don’t say anything, and Briggs stares at me for a long time. Eventually, his face softens, and he leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Mr. Reese, I understand this is a lot to take in, but I assure you it’s all true.”
“Why would this person want to cut of my finger?”
“I’m sure he assumed Diane was trying to push him out of the deal. You see, no one seems to know what happened to the cargo stolen from the truck. All he sees is Diane marrying you, the son of the man arrested, and he assumes he’s been deceived.”
“What about my father’s crew?”
“Disappeared,” Briggs says. “There wasn’t much to go on to start with. Your father’s face was the only one that showed on the surveillance cameras. From what I’ve heard, he was quite intoxicated.”
“You should be able to find someone.”
“Diane was our only lead. It wasn’t until the incident with your finger that we knew for sure someone else was involved.”
“You think he came after me to get to Diane?”
“That’s our theory. Use her love for you against her.”
I look away, silent.
“Honestly, Mr. Reese, we don’t care about the cargo. What we’re most concerned with is finding the thief working inside our company.”
“And you expect me to help you?”
“You will help us.”
“Is that right?” I shake my head. “I told you, I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“You’ll start with your wife,” he says. “I’m sure he’s contacted her. Have her tell you where he is, then you’ll tell us. We’ll handle the rest.”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
I clear my throat and try again.
“You want Diane to tell me where he is?”
“We have an idea where you can find her, but it’s—”
“Is this a joke?”
Briggs stops talking.
“You want me to ask Diane?” I stand up. “Who are you fucking people?”
“Mr. Reese, please—”
“You think you have an idea where she is? I can tell you exactly where she is. She’s in a goddamn urn on a shelf at Pearson’s Funeral Home.”
I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder, but I shrug it off. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but you need to leave, now.”
All eyes are on me. No one moves.
“Did you hear me?”
Briggs turns to the table and shuffles through the photos. He picks one up, looks at it, then hands it to me.
I take it.
It’s a photo of Diane walking out of a building through a set of frosted glass doors and onto the street. She’s wearing black baseball cap with her hair tied back in a ponytail.
I hand it back. “What about it?”
Briggs reaches out and taps the photo with his finger. “That photo was taken almost forty-eight hours ago, less than five miles from this room.”
– 33 –
By the time Hull pulls me back, there is blood on my knuckles and my throat is raw from shouting.
“Who are you people?” My voice cracks. “She’s dead. I saw her.”
Briggs is down on one knee. He touches the corner of his mouth with one finger, then rubs the blood away with his thumb. He looks up at me, then pushes himself to his feet.
Hull has both my arms pinned behind me.
I keep struggling, shouting.
Briggs straightens his jacket and brushes his hand over his pants, wiping away any dirt. When he looks at me again, I open my mouth to yell at him. Before I can, he punches me in the center of the chest.
It’s like being struck with a metal bat.
The pain splits me in two, and all the strength runs out of my legs. Hull lets go of my arms, and I drop to the ground. I roll onto my side and pull my legs up into my chest and try to breathe.
The pain doesn’t fade.
Briggs takes a blue handkerchief from his pocket and touches it to his lip, then he bends down next to me and says, “It hurts?”
I want to scream, but I can’t.
“Yes.” Briggs nods. “All the nerves in the abdomen meet in this