Followers From Me

Chapter 19:

I stood on the porch with a photograph of my daughter in my hand and a note from my uncle in my other hand, and I felt something I hadn't felt in three years.

Not fear. Not exactly.

Rage.

It was cold and quiet and it sat in my chest like a stone.

"He was in the diner," I said.

Kael took the photo from me. Looked at it. His jaw moved.

"Two days ago," he said.

"Two days ago he was sitting in my diner taking pictures of my kid while I was carrying plates."

"Ella—"

"Which booth?"

Kael looked at me.

"What?"

"Which booth was he in? In the photo. You can tell by the angle."

He turned the photo over. Studied it. Solomon had been right about him — he looked at corners. At edges. At things people don't mean to show you.

"Booth on the left," he said. "Back wall. Behind the pie case."

"The one with the broken seat."

"How do you know it's got a broken seat?"

"Because it's got a broken seat. Rita's had a piece of duct tape on it since before I started. Nobody sits there." I looked at him. "Nobody except a man who wants to sit still and not be noticed."

Kael's hand closed around the photo.

"I want every camera on that block," he said. "Rita's had a camera over the register. Get the footage. Get me his face in my hands."

Benny said, "Boss—"

"Now."

Benny went.

The kid on the porch was still standing there with his hood down. Blond. Dirty face. Scared eyes.

"You," Kael said. "What's your name?"

"Toby."

"Toby. Where'd you get the envelope?"

"A man gave it to me."

"What man?"

"I don't know. He gave me twenty bucks and told me to ride it up here."

"Where?"

"At the gas station on Fourth. He was in a car. Gray car."

"Was anybody with him?"

Toby hesitated.

"Toby," Kael said.

"There was a lady in the car."

Kael went very still.

"What did she look like?"

"Young. Dark hair. She didn't get out. She just looked at me through the window."

Sierra, standing in the doorway of the house, said, "Was she wearing a hoodie?"

Toby looked at her.

"Yeah," he said. "How'd you know?"

Sierra's face did something I couldn't read.

"It's not her," she said quietly. "It's the woman working for him. The one I told you about."

Kael turned to her.

"You know her?"

"I know of her." Sierra crossed her arms. "Her name's Wren. She's been with him for six years. She does his errands. She does the things he doesn't want to do himself."

"Like what?"

"Like set fires. Like pay people off. Like hand envelopes to kids."

Kael looked at Toby.

"Go home," he said. "Don't tell anyone you came here."

Toby nodded. Grabbed his bike. Rode off down the driveway and out through the gate.

---

The living room was full of people and I could feel the clock in my chest.

"Solomon's on his way back," Kael said. "He's bringing the paperwork. He's got a judge on the phone. He's got the medical examiner in a car."

"It's twelve fifty," I said. "The hearing's at nine."

"Eight hours."

"Eight hours and a thousand things that can go wrong."

"Then we make a list of the thousand things and we knock them down one at a time."

I looked at him.

"The deed," I said. "Solomon said we need the deed."

"We need the deed. Or we need to explain to a judge why we don't have it."

"Can we explain to a judge why we don't have it?"

Kael was quiet.

"Solomon can," he said. "But it'll look bad. It'll look like we're not in possession of our own property. He'll say we can't prove we're the trustee."

"Can he prove it?"

"I don't know. He's working on it."

I sat down on the arm of the couch.

My mother was in the corner. She hadn't moved all night. She was still in her coat with her trash bag next to her chair.

"Mom," I said.

She looked up.

"The deed. The paperwork you signed. Where exactly did you put it?"

"In the dresser."

"Which drawer?"

"The bottom one. Under the sweaters."

"Was there a lock on it?"

She thought about it.

"No," she said. "But there was a box. A metal box. I put the papers in the metal box and I put the metal box in the drawer."

"A metal box."

"A small one. Green. With a key."

"Do you have the key?"

Colleen reached into her pocket.

She pulled out a key on a little ring. Copper. Small.

"I never threw it away," she said. "I don't know why. I just kept it in my pocket."

I looked at Kael.

He was already reaching for his phone.

---

"Kael," I said. "Kael, wait."

He stopped.

"Don't do this," I said.

"Ella—"

"Don't do this. Don't go to Tuller Street. Don't send your men to Tuller Street. He knows we need the deed. He said it in the note. He knows we need it and he knows we don't have it and he's waiting for us to do something stupid."

"So what do you want me to do? Sit here and wait for a judge to hand your daughter to a man who fakes funerals?"

"I want you to be smart."

"I'm being smart. I'm going to get the deed."

"No. You're being Kael."

He turned around.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're going to walk into a trap because you're angry and because it's my daughter and because you can't stand it that a man you can't touch is out there with a picture of her in his pocket."

Kael didn't say anything.

"Send Rook," I said. "Send Taz. Send Benny. Send somebody who isn't you. Somebody who's not going to go in there with a gun drawn because they're furious."

Kael looked at me.

"You want me to send somebody else into danger."

"Yes."

"While I sit here."

"Yes."

"Ella. That's not how I work."

"I know." I walked over to him. "That's why I'm telling you."

---

The room got quiet. People started finding other places to be. Marisol took my mother into the kitchen. Sierra went out to the porch. Taz was at the door.

Kael and I were alone.

"Kael," I said. "Look at me."

He looked at me.

"I know who you are," I said. "I know what you've been doing since you were nine years old. I know your father beat your mother and you sat in a hallway and listened and couldn't do anything and I know you've been making up for it ever since. I know that. I get it."

"Ella—"

"Shut up. Let me finish."

His jaw moved. He didn't say anything.

"You want to burn the world for me and my kid and that's — that's a lot. That's more than anybody's ever offered me. But I'm not gonna be the reason you get hurt. I'm not gonna be the reason you walk into a house full of men with guns and don't come out. Because if you don't come out, then what? Then I'm alone with a sister I don't know and a club that doesn't trust me and a mother who can't stop crying. Then I'm right back where I started."

Kael's eyes didn't move from my face.

"You're not alone," he said.

"I know. That's what I'm trying to keep."

He was quiet for a long time.

Then he said, "Rook."

Taz said, "Boss?"

"Get Rook on the phone. I want him and Hatch and eight men at Tuller Street. I want the house watched from three angles. I want nobody going in until we know how many are inside."

Taz nodded and left.

Kael looked at me.

"Happy?"

"I'm not happy. I'm relieved."

"Same thing?"

"Not even close."

---

The flowers arrived at 1:40.

Not at the gate. At the door.

Marisol came in from the kitchen with a box.

"Somebody left these on the porch," she said. "No card in the box. Just a card with the order."

I took the box. Opened it.

Roses. Twenty-four of them. White roses in a plain brown box with tissue paper and a ribbon.

And a card.

For Ella. The mother of my grandchild. From Silas.

And for Lily. From her grandfather.

I'll see you both in court.

I stood there with the card in my hand.

"Where'd they come from?" I said.

"Florist on Fourth," Marisol said. "I called. The order was placed two hours ago. Paid in cash. Delivery was scheduled for midnight but the driver got lost."

"Which florist?"

Marisol looked at the card.

"Card says 'Ridgemont Flower Shoppe.'"

Kael walked in.

"Get those out of here," he said.

"Kael—"

"Get them out of my house."

He took the box out of my hands. Walked to the fireplace.

"Kael," I said. "Kael, wait."

He didn't wait.

He put the box in the fireplace and he struck a match and he lit the tissue paper and the whole thing went up.

I stood there and watched white roses burn.

When the flames died down Kael crouched and pulled out the card with the poker. It was black at the edges but the back was still white.

He turned it over.

And then he went very still.

"What?" I said.

He held it up.

There was writing on the back. Small. Neat. Black ink.

Not Silas's handwriting. Not the florist's.

A different handwriting. And on the back of the card, in that different handwriting, there was an address.

Tuller Street.

The house.

I'm inside. Come get me.

Kael looked at me.

"Somebody's in your mother's house," he said. "And they're asking us to come."

Chapter 19 Ends.