Wyrick sent something different.
The second day Wyrick sent a giant barbecue sandwich, steak fries and a beer. He ate with tears in his eyes.
The third day was cold and windy, and she’d ordered kung pao chicken, fried rice and spring rolls. Every day, something different, in the hopes it would strike the right chord and he’d eat enough of it to keep him going.
The fourth night it was a bag full of tacos, churros and Mexican beer.
And every night, the break and the food made going back into Morning Light bearable.
* * *
While Charlie was sitting vigil, Darrell Boyington was arraigned and let out on bail. He had retreated to his penthouse like a dog with his tail between his legs. Being booked and fingerprinted had technically brought an end to ever taking another contract job again, because he was now in the system. He’d been really good at his job until he let Wyrick get under his skin, and that was on him. It was the need for revenge that caused his downfall.
His lawyer was talking about getting the stalking charges dropped to harassment, but he was still facing the possibility of a little jail time and a fine. It wouldn’t really affect his business activities. He had never been the face of the sports bars he owned, so business would not be affected. But it was the actual fact of serving time that horrified him.
* * *
It was just after lunch, and Darrell was waiting on a phone call from his attorney, but he was too fidgety to sit, so he took one of his favorite cigars out onto the balcony and lit up.
The air was cold and today there was enough breeze to carry away the smoke. And then he heard a commotion going on from somewhere below him, and out of curiosity, he got up and walked to the railing. Within moments, a drone shot straight up from somewhere below. Before he could react to what he was seeing, it was in his face.
The blast from the bomb it was carrying destroyed the living room behind him, and blew him and the balcony into pieces, before dropping all of it onto the street below.
Cyrus Parks had effected his own brand of payback.
* * *
Wyrick was sitting in the kitchen with Merlin, going over another set of papers with him and his lawyer, Rodney Gordon, when her cell phone rang.
She glanced at caller ID and then frowned.
“Excuse me a moment. It’s the Dallas Police Department. I suppose I’d better answer this,” she said, and got up and walked out into the hallway to talk. “Hello?”
“This is Detective Tillman, Homicide Division, calling for Jade Wyrick.”
“I’m Wyrick. What can I do for you, Detective?”
“For clarification, you recently filed stalking charges against a Darrell Boyington. Is this correct?”
“Yes.”
“What is your present location?” he asked.
“I’m at home. To be exact, I’m in my landlord’s kitchen, with his lawyer, where we’ve been for the past two hours. Now, what’s going on, and why all the questions?”
“Darrell Boyington is dead. Someone flew a bomb onto his balcony while he was on it and blew him all to hell.”
“I’m not into killing people. That was his hobby,” Wyrick said.
There was a moment of silence before Tillman spoke.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Boyington was a hit man. I’d suggest you start looking at the people who hired him, and the families of the people he killed.”
“And you know this, how?” Tillman asked.
“I just know stuff,” Wyrick said. “Hang on and I’ll let you speak to my landlord and his lawyer to verify where I am. They’re still here.”
She didn’t wait for him to agree; she just sauntered back into the kitchen, talking as she went.
“Hey, guys. A detective named Tillman needs to verify my whereabouts for the last two hours. Do you mind talking to him a minute?”
“Not at all,” Rodney said. “Put the phone on speaker. Then Art and I can do this together.”
“Done,” Wyrick said, and laid the phone down on the table. “Okay, Detective. Arthur Merlin is my landlord. Rodney Gordon is Merlin’s lawyer. They’re listening.”
“Detective Tillman, I’m Rodney Gordon. I believe you have testified in a couple of cases I’ve tried. If you’re asking how long Miss Wyrick has been with us, it’s going on a little over two hours now, and before that, she was in her apartment in the basement below.”
“I’m Art Merlin, Jade’s landlord. She rents my basement apartment, but she’s also a friend. She’s been here in