was weird.”
“Weird how?”
Nate presses a hand to the front of his sweats. “Can I pee, man? I’m gonna piss myself.”
“I don’t care. You’ve probably got a gun stashed in the toilet tank or something. Piss yourself if you’re going to.”
He shakes his head and swallows again. “Brodie used to say he was her pimp. But he didn’t act like that around her. But, like, I don’t even know if she even gave him any, you know? She slept in a separate room and smoked all his weed.”
“But he claimed he was pimping her out.”
“Yeah.”
“They’re in Tulsa?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know where. I swear. He didn’t say anything more than that.” He’s actually squeezing himself hard now as if he’s trying to stop water coming out of a hose.
I aim my knife at his groin. “What else do you know?”
“Nothing! I swear! Brodie came by my place three weeks ago, and his face was a mess. Lip split, black eye. He told me he had to get the fuck outta town, and he said I could stay here if I wanted but that dude might be back. That’s all I know!”
“Did he hurt Kayla? Kidnap her? Sell her to someone?”
“I don’t know. He left town for a day around the same time she disappeared. Maybe he took her somewhere, or maybe he was lying and something bad happened. I seriously have no idea!”
“Okay. What did he tell you about the guy who beat him up?”
“Nothing!”
“Maybe a guy named Morris? Roy Morris?”
“I don’t know anything, I swear!”
“Ugh. Fine. I need to use your phone. If you stay in the house and don’t cause trouble, I’ll leave it in the mailbox at the bottom of the driveway.”
“The mailbox,” he repeats, nodding violently.
“You gonna be cool?”
“Yeah. I’m cool. Mailbox. That’s fine.”
“Don’t follow me.”
“I won’t. Swear to God.”
I take his phone, and before I’ve even made it to the double doors, I hear his feet hit the ground and pound away toward the bathroom. Just in case he’s playing hero, I slide past the doors and watch through the crack near the hinges. If he comes barreling out with a gun, I’ll just trip him and kick him in the head.
But Nate isn’t playing hero. I hear the wild flow of urine hitting water and then his guttural sigh of relief, so I bounce down the hallway and out of the house, and I even close the front door politely behind me.
I do watch the house carefully as I get into my car, and I glance constantly into the rearview mirror as I drive, but the door stays still and unmoving.
Since he didn’t try anything and he was kind of funny, I actually stop at the bottom of the driveway to send a text to Little Dog from his phone so I can put it in the mailbox as promised:
That lady came back! With a huge dude! They just left!
I wait a few moments for the ellipses of response, then send a WTF man in case he didn’t wake up with the first text.
Finally, I see a dot dot dot and then Nate’s phone dings.
Fuck! Whatd you tell them?????
I hit the telephone icon and raise the phone to my ear. “Hello, Mr. Little Dog,” I drawl when he answers. “Don’t hang up.”
“Shit!” he yelps. “Who is this?”
“I’m a relative of Kayla’s, and I have a law degree and more than enough money to hunt you down and send you to jail for the rest of your life for trafficking a minor child. Tell me where she is right now or I’ll have this text traced and you’ll lose the one hiding place that you’ve managed to dig out for your sorry ass.” I pause for a beat and add a smile to my voice. “Nice to finally meet you, Brodie.”
“I don’t know where she is!” he screeches.
“Don’t be a lying little bitch, Brodie. I know you’re in Tulsa; I just need your address. And if you don’t give me your address, I’ll let that big bald guy know what I’ve discovered and he can help me find you. Is that what you want?”
“Fuck off!” he tries, but fear makes his defiance squeaky.
“I’ve got Roy Morris’s number right here, Brodie. One phone call and he’ll know you’re in Tulsa.”
“I want a thousand dollars,” he blurts into the phone.
“I’m not giving you a thousand dollars, Brodie.”
“Five hundred. Five hundred and I’ll send you the address. You can have her. This stupid bitch has been nothing but trouble.