some level—even in her strung-out mind—that she was going to die.”
I nodded. “Denial is the first stage.”
Mason grinned. “Right. And then anger. It doesn’t matter if the person was Zella or a four-star general. You can count on anger and fighting back, at least verbally and the bigger they are, the more they like to bluster. Next?”
“I’d guess your favorite stage, bargaining.”
“It’s the most useful. Give the person just enough possibility to let them think they have the ability to bargain for their life. It’s the moment when a sheik will offer his daughters and wife. A world leader will offer launch codes. Even a piece of shit like Zella will offer something. Everyone has something to offer.”
“I’m guessing you had better offers over the years than Zella’s offer of a blow job?”
Mason cringed. “There’s no fucking way I’d want her lips anywhere near me.”
I thought back to a day ago. “Maples didn’t bargain.”
“He gave us some info,” Mason said as he ran a comb through his shoulder-length hair. “We let him die too fast. Now, I wish we’d learned more about the payments from the Mexican. Today, I wanted information on Nancy. I was taught or learned over time to maintain this stage as long as necessary.
“Pain is a powerful incentive. Pull teeth or remove toenails. The pain lasts longer than the earlier use of the scalpel. However, without the earlier show, the person in question will fail to believe your capabilities. Let’s face it, it takes a sick motherfucker to cut off a finger or toe with wire cutters.”
I recalled the scene. Without the high-pitched squeal above Zella’s pleas, the crunch of the bone was audible. “Do you think she was telling the truth about not knowing more about the money Nancy received?”
“Yeah, I do. Maples had said Nancy received money until eighteen. I think he meant until Missy was eighteen. I’m assuming it was like child support but backward. This dude paid so that he could maintain custody.” Mason’s eyes again met mine in the mirror as I applied antibiotic gel to the stitches in my arm. “You said you looked for Nancy after you thought I died and when you and Lorna married?”
“I did. It was as if she disappeared. There has been nothing since about a year after Lorna’s high school graduation...” I made the connection. “Shit, that would be around the right time of Missy’s eighteenth birthday.”
“I was thinking the same thing. We need to go back and see what we can find. How was she getting payments? Where were they coming from?”
“My first thought would be offshore, hidden through a tangled mess of shell companies and LLCs.” I worked to wrap my bicep with clean gauze.
“Why?” Mason asked. “Some man was paying a strung-out whore. What information would she share as long as she was getting her payments?”
“Would you want to be caught in an IRS audit paying a strung-out whore a yearly stipend?”
“Zella said twice a year,” Mason replied as he handed me a clip from the first-aid kit to secure the ace bandage.
“Same question,” I said, “now it’s every six months. Do you have a business or a wife or political ambitions? That shit is frowned upon.”
“It’s our first lead,” Mason said. “We need to see what we can find.”
“Time is not on our side, but skill is. Those payments started nearly twenty-five years ago.”
“And ended roughly sixteen years ago.”
“Technology has improved,” I said, considering the changes since we’d taken over Sparrow. “Back then, the go-to was the Cayman Islands. Let’s hope this guy didn’t think outside the box.”
We fell silent for a moment as we both headed into the dressing room to a small bay of something better than lockers and less than closets. Each one of us kept extra clothes here for occasions such as this. Everything we wore to the warehouse today would be incinerated. As I opened my closet area, I turned to Mason. “If I’d been thinking straighter, I’d have worn different boots. I fucking liked those boots.”
“Killing 101, be sure to dress accordingly.”
“Well, my usual victims are assassinated via the computers in the other room. No need to burn my clothes.” As I dressed, I thought about what we’d yielded. “Do we know more than we had from the traffic cams and security footage? Zella described a tall dark-haired man and a smaller woman with blonde hair who always wore gloves.”
“I’d call it more of a confirmation of a connection between the kidnapping of the