cross-country. We got a tip from the Truckers Against Trafficking hotline that has us looking into a truck stop in OK City that might double as a meat market.”
“Valentine came from Oklahoma. I wonder if she was part of that ring,” Vance mused. “And why is it always something bigger? Why can I never just put one in jail and be done?”
“The nature of the beast,” Jeff answered the second question before addressing the first. “If she could tell you anything about it, it would be helpful.”
“I’ll call Jessie next. See if Valentine said anything. Maybe she can give me enough to know what I’m looking for with Little Z. Either way, I’ll see what information I can get out of him. I’m putting a tracker in my shoe. If it goes too close to the river, maybe send in some help.”
“Remember, if you kill him, we can’t use him to build a case against the next link in the chain.”
“Given my plan, I’m more worried about him killing me.” Vance hung up the phone before Jeff could talk him out of anything.
C HAPTER S EVEN
EVERY PART OF VANCE HURT. He was on his knees, his hands bound behind his back. It would have been infinitely more enjoyable to be the one doing the beating, but he’d come to learn that being on the receiving end was far more effective at loosening lips. So when he’d stumbled into the little diner on 7th and let it “slip” that he’d left Valentine for dead, he’d swiftly found himself right where he wanted to be—carried off by Little Z’s goons to mete out the kind of justice he’d have delivered once upon a time.
When their point had been made, they loaded Vance into a van and drove him to a spot along the river—not unlike his favorite dumping ground in the day—and rolled him out of the van before roaring off. Through swollen eyelids, he could make out the moonlight on the muddy shore. They’d left him in a remote enough spot that if Jeff wasn’t making good on his promise to track Vance, the information he’d gleaned would be worthless.
Some part of Vance wanted to drift into the oblivion that was beckoning, that piece of him that was tired of fighting. He’d done his part. He’d done all he could to atone for his sins, and it was never enough. He was tired of trying.
Somewhere in his mind’s eye, he could see Jessie walking towards him just as she’d done years ago. He imagined her leaning down, a kind smile reassuring him it would be okay, encouraging him to get up out of the mud and the muck. It was the memory of her that spurred him to shake off the siren song of sleep, to dig deep within himself to find the will to struggle to his feet.
When he’d won the battle to be upright, Vance allowed himself a moment to catch his breath and orient himself before stumbling back to the pavement. It was a lonely road this time of night. He wasn’t sure how long he tripped along the blacktop before a car came his way. Any hope he had that they were there to save him was dashed when they honked and threw a beer can at him on their way by.
Eventually, he managed to make it back to civilization, though he applied the term loosely. It was a terrible neighborhood. He didn’t care, though. He sat at an abandoned bus stop, resting his head against the graffitied shelter. Even his ghost-Jessie couldn’t coax him to go further. He wondered what would be so terribly wrong with allowing himself to drift into another world. Maybe Harmony would be there, waiting for him.
“Vance?” A familiar voice broke through the haze; a face peered closely at him.
Vance groaned and tried to crack open one eye.
“What the hell happened to you? You look terrible.”
“Working,” Vance croaked, finally recognizing Otis.
“You have a terrible job.”
Vance began a chuckle but ended with a wince.
“Come on.” Otis began to lift Vance to his feet. “Let’s get you back to my place.”
Vance shook his head, sandbagging Otis. “No. Can’t go to your
“Valentine came from Oklahoma. I wonder if she was part of that ring,” Vance mused. “And why is it always something bigger? Why can I never just put one in jail and be done?”
“The nature of the beast,” Jeff answered the second question before addressing the first. “If she could tell you anything about it, it would be helpful.”
“I’ll call Jessie next. See if Valentine said anything. Maybe she can give me enough to know what I’m looking for with Little Z. Either way, I’ll see what information I can get out of him. I’m putting a tracker in my shoe. If it goes too close to the river, maybe send in some help.”
“Remember, if you kill him, we can’t use him to build a case against the next link in the chain.”
“Given my plan, I’m more worried about him killing me.” Vance hung up the phone before Jeff could talk him out of anything.
C HAPTER S EVEN
EVERY PART OF VANCE HURT. He was on his knees, his hands bound behind his back. It would have been infinitely more enjoyable to be the one doing the beating, but he’d come to learn that being on the receiving end was far more effective at loosening lips. So when he’d stumbled into the little diner on 7th and let it “slip” that he’d left Valentine for dead, he’d swiftly found himself right where he wanted to be—carried off by Little Z’s goons to mete out the kind of justice he’d have delivered once upon a time.
When their point had been made, they loaded Vance into a van and drove him to a spot along the river—not unlike his favorite dumping ground in the day—and rolled him out of the van before roaring off. Through swollen eyelids, he could make out the moonlight on the muddy shore. They’d left him in a remote enough spot that if Jeff wasn’t making good on his promise to track Vance, the information he’d gleaned would be worthless.
Some part of Vance wanted to drift into the oblivion that was beckoning, that piece of him that was tired of fighting. He’d done his part. He’d done all he could to atone for his sins, and it was never enough. He was tired of trying.
Somewhere in his mind’s eye, he could see Jessie walking towards him just as she’d done years ago. He imagined her leaning down, a kind smile reassuring him it would be okay, encouraging him to get up out of the mud and the muck. It was the memory of her that spurred him to shake off the siren song of sleep, to dig deep within himself to find the will to struggle to his feet.
When he’d won the battle to be upright, Vance allowed himself a moment to catch his breath and orient himself before stumbling back to the pavement. It was a lonely road this time of night. He wasn’t sure how long he tripped along the blacktop before a car came his way. Any hope he had that they were there to save him was dashed when they honked and threw a beer can at him on their way by.
Eventually, he managed to make it back to civilization, though he applied the term loosely. It was a terrible neighborhood. He didn’t care, though. He sat at an abandoned bus stop, resting his head against the graffitied shelter. Even his ghost-Jessie couldn’t coax him to go further. He wondered what would be so terribly wrong with allowing himself to drift into another world. Maybe Harmony would be there, waiting for him.
“Vance?” A familiar voice broke through the haze; a face peered closely at him.
Vance groaned and tried to crack open one eye.
“What the hell happened to you? You look terrible.”
“Working,” Vance croaked, finally recognizing Otis.
“You have a terrible job.”
Vance began a chuckle but ended with a wince.
“Come on.” Otis began to lift Vance to his feet. “Let’s get you back to my place.”
Vance shook his head, sandbagging Otis. “No. Can’t go to your
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