The Butcher by Jennifer Hillier Page B

were moist but her tone was firm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’t know what else to say.”
    Sam went over to her purse and fished around, then pulled out a business card. “This is Sanchez’s number. If you won’t talk to me, will you talk to him?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œTake the card, please. And just think about it.”
    Bonnie took it and slipped it into her purse. “I’ll think about it. I should get back to the hotel.”
    â€œJust let me get my purse. I’ll drive you.”
    Bonnie wiped away a tear. “Sam, I know I don’t have the right to ask, but will you keep this conversation between us?”
    â€œWho would I tell?” Sam said, more confused than ever. She grabbed her purse from the sofa. “You haven’t given me anything to goon. Sanchez isn’t going to want to hear from me unless I have an actual name to give him.”
    â€œWhat I mean is, I don’t want you to say anything to anyone,” Bonnie said. “Okay? Can you give me your word? Just wait for me to figure it out. I promise I will.”
    â€œI don’t have anything to tell, because you haven’t told me anything,” Sam snapped, reaching for her keys. “But I won’t mention to anyone that we met. Can you at least tell me one thing first?”
    â€œSure. What’s that?” The older woman sounded relieved.
    Sam looked Bonnie directly in the eyes. “Is the Butcher still alive?”
    â€œYes. Very much so.” Bonnie’s face darkened. “You of all people should know, Sam. You’ve studied it enough. Monsters like that don’t die unless they’re killed.”
    *   *   *
    Edward watched as Samantha left the house with the red-haired woman, the two of them getting into her car. After his conversation with Matthew, he thought it might be a good idea to drop in on the kid’s girlfriend. While he didn’t really think Matthew would say anything to anyone about the crate, he had been drinking a lot lately, and something could have slipped out. Edward wanted to be prepared. After all, Samantha had her own agenda. Didn’t everyone?
    He had been surprised to look through the window to see she had a guest. Thankfully he hadn’t rung the doorbell, because what a guest she was. Time might have wrinkled her skin and expanded her waistline, but Edward never forgot a face. She was the only one who’d ever gotten away, and he’d looked for her for a good two years before finally giving up. No doubt she’d changed her name after she’d left Seattle, maybe even more than once.
    But now she was back, and it was Edward’s chance to finally tie up a loose end. And, of course, have a little fun in the process. He had no idea what the woman had told Samantha, but he would find out. Edward had always been an expert at making people talk.
    Waiting a few seconds, he started the engine on the Seville, then slowly followed Samantha’s white Mazda down the street. As he drove, his groin tingled. Looking down, his eyes widened in surprise.
    Goddammit if there wasn’t a tent in his trousers. Would wonders never cease. He had an erection, his first one in years. In the darkness, Edward Shank grinned.
    Perfect timing.

11
    If people would just do what they were fucking told, people wouldn’t have to worry about losing their fucking jobs.
    Matt knew he was in a bad mood, but for Christ’s sake, he had good reason to be. Adobo had never been busier and yet he was understaffed ever since two servers had quit without giving notice. Lauryn Kinney, his day manager, had been late twice in the last week due to some custody battle with her ex over her son (Matt didn’t know the details, as he hadn’t really been listening). And now his old college friend PJ Wu was asking for a few minutes to chat in private, no doubt to ask for another advance on his pay, probably