Chapter 4 - THE MAN BEHIND THE COUNTER
Gary insisted the telephone call meant nothing.
“People ask about customers all the time.”
I stared at him.
“People ask whether a specific mafia boss is still eating cherry pie?”
He winced.
“Don't say it like that.”
“How should I say it?”
“Harley, I didn't know anybody was going to blow up a car.”
The words came out too quickly.
Denise and I exchanged a look.
Gary noticed.
His face went pale.
“I mean—”
I stepped back.
“I'm calling Detective Sloan.”
He caught my wrist.
“Wait.”
I looked down at his hand.
He released me immediately.
“Please.”
For a moment, I saw something I'd never noticed before.
Gary wasn't angry.
He was terrified.
We sat in the empty diner while Denise stood near the front door.
Gary told us he'd been receiving payments from a man who claimed to work for a private security firm.
The man wanted information about certain customers.
Mostly delivery drivers.
Occasionally executives.
Gary had assumed it was corporate intelligence.
“Did you tell him Mateo was here?” I asked.
Gary nodded.
“How much did he pay you?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
I stared.
“Five hundred dollars?”
His eyes filled.
“My wife needs surgery.”
I looked away.
That excuse hurt because I understood it.
Too well.
But understanding wasn't forgiveness.
“You helped someone find him,” I said.
Gary covered his face.
“I know.”
Detective Sloan arrived forty minutes later.
Gary gave a formal statement.
He provided payment records and the telephone number used by the caller.
The investigation expanded.
Mateo called that evening.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
He paused.
“Alone?”
I looked around my apartment.
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“Harley, I think you should stay somewhere else temporarily.”
I laughed without humor.
“Sure. I'll just check into the Ritz.”
“I can arrange somewhere secure.”
“Mateo.”
“Please.”
Something in his voice stopped me.
He wasn't issuing an order.
He was asking.
I sat on the edge of my bed.
“Why do you care so much?”
Silence.
Then:
“Because you saved my life.”
“That doesn't mean you owe me yours.”
“I know.”
He took a breath.
“That's not why.”
My heart began beating faster.
Before I could answer, someone knocked on my apartment door.
Three slow knocks.
Then a voice.
“Harley Quinn?”
I froze.
Mateo heard the silence.
“Harley?”
The voice came again.
“We need to talk about your sister.”
I whispered into the phone.
“Someone's here.”
Mateo's tone changed.
“Don't open the door.”
The knocking stopped.
Then a piece of paper slid beneath it.
May you like
I stared at the words.
LILY'S TRANSPLANT WILL NEVER HAPPEN IF YOU KEEP TALKING.
