Stuart added, "But he killed her, Sam. I know it, and I want you to help me prove it. So what do you say?"
I thought about it. Going after a crime lord was a big deal. I would have to be careful. I didn't want to jeopardize my family or Stuart. Myself I wasn't too worried about.
I nodded and he smiled, relieved. We discussed my retainer fee. We discussed, in fact, a rather sizable retainer fee, since this was going to take a lot of time and energy. He agreed to my price without blinking and I gave him my PayPal address, where he would deposit my money. I told him I would begin once the funds had been confirmed. He understood.
We shook hands again and, once again, he barely flinched at my icy grip. And as he walked away, with the setting sun gleaming off his shining dome, all I wanted to do was run my fingers over his perfect bald head.
I needed to get a life.
Chapter Three
A half hour later, I was sitting in a McDonald's parking lot and waiting for 7:00 p.m. to roll around.
I had already concluded that traffic was too heavy for me to get back to my hotel in time to call my kids, and so I decided to wait it out here, just off the freeway, with a view of the golden arches and the smell of French fries heavy in the air.
My stomach growled. I think my stomach had short-term memory loss. French fries were no longer on the menu.
The sun was about to set. For me, that's a good thing. The western sky was ablaze in fiery oranges and reds and yellows, a beautiful reminder of the sheer amount of smog in southern California.
I checked the clock on the dash: 6:55.
My husband Danny made the rules. We had no official agreement regarding who could see the kids when. It was an arrangement he set up outside of the courts, because in this case he was judge, jury and executioner. A month or so ago he threatened to expose me for who I am, claiming he had evidence, and that if I fought him I would never see the kids again. Danny was proving to be far more ruthless than I ever imagined. Gone was the gentle husband I had known, replaced by something close to a monster of his own.
Not the undead kind. Just the uncaring kind.
For now, as hard as it was not seeing my kids, I played by his rules, biding my time.
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. A small wind made its way through my open window, now bringing with it the scent of cooking beef. Maybe some McNuggets, too. I sniffed again. And fries, always the fries.