us leaving until tomorrow morning, so there’s nothing stopping me from making a little late-night visit to the bastard’s property. I straighten my spine, my mind already made up.
“Wait,” Kincaid snaps. “There’s a different way, but you guys aren’t going to like it.”
The last time Kincaid said something like that, I ended up trapped in a damn mine shaft for eleven hours. The kids we were looking for were found safely, but it was a sucky day.
I turn my head to look at him, willing to do anything to make sure that Simone is safe and able to live without worrying and looking over her shoulder for her worst nightmares to come to life.
“What if you aren’t there for Simone’s defense, but there as Jeremy’s friends?”
My skin crawls with my boss’s suggestion because I can already imagine where this is going.
“Friends?” Jinx doesn’t sound interested in the idea at all.
“It could work,” I agree.
I’ll need a bath in acid when it’s over with, however.
“If you guys are exactly like his son, he’s more likely to brag about shit he’s done,” Whitman says, nodding his head as he turns around.
“Let’s get you guys wired.”
***
“This is fucking stupid,” Jinx bitches as we pull into the Murphy’s overgrown driveway.
“This is the only way. Just draw on all that attitude you keep bottled up inside.”
I grin at my friend as we near the house, but I don’t feel an ounce of happiness right now.
“We can do this,” I assure him, but then I see Murphy sitting on his front porch, beer can in his hand, and I want to kill the man on sight.
“You sure?” Jinx can feel the sudden tension filling the cab of the beat-up truck.
Appearances are everything, but it’s not the ratty jeans I’m wearing or the t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off that’s making me uncomfortable. Hell, it isn’t the realistic tattoos one of Whitman’s guys decorated our skin with or the backstory I have running on repeat in my head. Just the thought of walking away today having not solved a damn thing makes it nearly impossible to breathe.
“If we sit here any longer, he’s going to get suspicious.”
Jinx’s words force me to open the driver’s side door and step out.
“Mr. Murphy?” I yell, holding a hand over my head in a wave as my stomach twists.
“I ain’t got no fucking money, so if you thugs are here to rob me, you won’t leave with much.”
He doesn’t seem fazed at all by two bulky guys walking toward him. Either he’s stupid, or he’s so confident that the sight of us doesn’t bother him.
“I don’t want your shit, old man,” I say with a laugh that burns in my throat. “I’m Sam Johnson.”
Murphy’s eyes narrow, and it makes me wonder if I’ve already managed to blow this thing up.
“Sam Johnson?” he asks after a long silence. “You did time with my boy.”
And bingo. According to prison records, Murphy Jr. sent many letters to his dad even though there were no incoming letters from his old man. Looks like it paid off to think Murphy talked about his cellmate while he was incarcerated.
“Lea County Correctional,” I confirm. “This shit stain is Corbin. He was on our block.”
Jinx nods but doesn’t speak. He’s the level-headed one in most situations, so I don’t know what Kincaid was thinking when he gave us these damn roles to play.
“We wanted to pay our resp—”
“What’s that shit on your chest, son?” Murphy points to the black box on Jinx’s chest.
“Fucking bullshit is what it is.” Jinx slaps the side of the thing as if he can’t stand it. “Goddamn recording device. Parole put me on fucking GPS monitoring. I can’t do shit.”
I hardly breathe while Murphy digests that information.
“That mean you can’t drink a beer?” He points to a small cooler down by his feet.
“Fuck no,” Jinx grunts before snapping open the cooler and pulling a beer out. He hands one to me before diving back in.
We sit in silence, all three of us looking out over the land. The hardest thing about what we’re doing is keeping calm, but it’s also difficult not to lead him where it’ll end up looking like entrapment.
“Nice little place you have out here,” I mutter.
“It’s not much but it’s mine. Junior couldn’t wait to get away from here. His ass wouldn’t be six feet under if he’d stayed where it was safe.”
“Safe?”
“Yeah,” the old man says. “We don’t have people telling us what to do around here.”