hand on the small of her back. A subtle reminder that she wasn’t in this alone.
She leaned into the touch but kept her gaze on Steven. “Do you know where Wendall is? How can we find him?”
“I don’t know, Addy. Like I said, I haven’t seen or spoken to my dad since his arrest. About a month ago, a couple of police officers showed up at my office looking for him. Apparently, Wendall skipped out on his parole officer. There’s a warrant for his arrest.” He shrugged. “My best guess is that he’s hiding somewhere, but I couldn’t tell you for sure. You could try talking to some of my dad’s family members. His sister is still alive and living in Austin. She may know more.”
Jason showed him the picture of the vehicle again. “Are you certain this is your dad’s SUV?”
“Not 100%, but Wendall had a decal on his windshield just like that.” Steven squinted as he studied the picture. “Same placement and everything.”
“He owned this vehicle before the murder. Wendall had to store it somewhere while he was in prison. Any idea where?”
“Nope, but my dad had a bit of money. He could’ve placed his vehicle in a storage unit while he was in prison. Or a family member may have held on to it for him.”
“It’s been eight years since Greg died.” Addison licked her lips. “Do you think your dad would come after me now?”
“Yes, I do. Wendall always had a vengeful streak. My dad never cared much about me, but Greg was different. Wendall would walk over hot coals barefoot for his firstborn son.” He snorted. “They were a lot alike, Greg and Wendall. Cruel. Abusive. They deserved each other.”
There was a hint of jealousy buried in Steven’s voice. Did he have a need for his dad’s approval, even if the man was a criminal?
Steven’s gaze flickered to the workers before focusing back on Addison. His expression was grim. “Wendall got caught for murder once, but he’s had several years in prison to plan. Don’t underestimate him, Addy. If he wants you dead, Wendall will keep coming for you until the job is done.”
Fifteen
Sweat dripped down Addison’s back. She punched the boxing bag in front of her and the vibration from the impact sang up her arm. She followed it with two more sharp jabs before stepping back. Her chest heaved with the exertion. “I needed that.”
“I’m sure you did.” Lisa Morales, Addison’s best friend, released the bag to let it swing. “You’ve had a rough couple of days.”
The noise of people talking and the clank of weights filtered through the closed wall of their private room at the gym. Lisa owned the business and ran the boxing classes. Addison had considered skipping her regular workout, but the gym catered to women clientele only. There was no reason to believe she’d be unsafe.
Addison undid the strap on her boxing glove. She tucked the glove under the opposite arm and yanked. Her hand, covered in protective tape, popped free. “I didn’t realize how weak the attacks made me feel. It’s nice to remind myself that I’m strong.”
“You are strong.” Lisa placed a comforting hand on her elbow and met her gaze. “Not just physically. Emotionally too.”
Sudden tears sprang to Addison’s eyes. Lisa had been her best friend since grade school. There wasn’t anything they hadn’t been through together. “What would I do without you?”
“You’d be fine. I’d be a disaster though. Who else would come to watch my little monsters at the drop of a hat?”
Addison laughed. “Your kids are the best. I love babysitting.”
It was true. Lisa had two rambunctious, sweet little girls. Two years ago, Lisa and her husband, Damon, went through a difficult divorce. Damon had fallen into substance abuse after injuring his back at a construction site. He refused rehab. Lisa was brokenhearted but took steps to shield her girls from their father’s increasingly erratic behavior. Addison had done everything possible to help her good friend through a difficult time, including watching the girls whenever Lisa needed to work late.
Lisa frowned and turned Addison’s arm. She winced at the bruises caused by the tumble into the patio furniture. “Oh, Addy, this looks painful.”
“It looks worse than it is, promise.” She tugged her shirtsleeve down to cover the marks. A quick glance in the full-length mirror on the far wall confirmed that sweat had erased the makeup covering the fingerprint marks on her neck. She absently touched them. “Jason stopped the attacker before