Page 92 of Callan

“I thought so. You stop by my place later if you want to know more about this.”

“Not tonight. I have plans,” I say. “Tell me if there’s anything important that I need to know now.”

“Nothing other than what’s obvious in the pictures. Your girl is wearing it.”

“Carmen is not my girl. And this can be a clue. Or they use it as bait. Have you thought about that? Maybe you were supposed to stumble upon those pictures.”

“Maybe.”

My eyes go to the two pictures showing the root of a woman’s neck and my beautiful necklace resting between her collarbones.

How did Carmen get the necklace?

I only have two explanations for that. Alvarez gave it to her. Or the person coordinating the heist is using her to send a message.

Did they know each other before I got involved with her?

Probably.

Did she set me up?

Obviously. She did last night.

She didn’t seem to be in the know when I got to her after following her husband.

I wanted to send a message to the person responsible for this, and it worked.

I just got a response back.

It must be a man behind all this, and I believe it’s someone I know nothing about, although they must know my family history.

Someone with an axe to grind.

This is not about the necklace.

Yes, the piece of jewelry is expensive, but this is not about that. The whole story is atypical for a thug who wants to make a quick buck.

He uses men and women and sloppily leaves clues, a breadcrumb trail I’m following.

Could it still be one of my father’s enemies? I thought we’d settled that once it for all.

The people responsible for killing several members of my family got what they deserved.

They paid with their lives.

And as far as I know, there’s no one left in their family to vow revenge.

I thought I sent a message by messing with Carmen. And now their answer is clear as day.

They’re onto me and know all of my moves.

My focus shifts to Mackenzie, and I push back my unease. She is not that present in my life, so her life shouldn’t be in danger because of me.

Regardless, I go back to what happened last night and review the sequence of events, recollecting every second I had spent with her.

There was not a soul on the street when we stopped the car. Not a pedestrian––man or woman. Not a car passing us by.

I instructed my men to stand back before I took the car and invited her in. I wasn’t kidding when I said she couldn’t be safer in the entire city as long as she was with me.

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