"A few weeks ago. I couldn't come to Aunt Gertie's funeral with the black eye, but as soon as he thought everything was fine I left a note and bolted."
"And the guy in the parking lot today, was that him?" The beam from the light house hits the truck on one of its passes, highlighting Ridge. His tense face looks fierce, not someone you'd want to mess with.
"Mario? No. One of his employees. He left a note on my window."
"What kind of note?" he asks.
I shrug. "It said seventy-two."
"Seventy-two what?"
I shrug again in case he missed it the first time. "Who knows? He's called a few times. I suppose I have three days to answer one of them."
"That's everything?"
Subconsciously my hand falls to my jeans pocket, my palm rubs against the USB drive still safety tucked away. "Yup."
Now that
