Page 123 of Psycho

She pulled away from me without saying anything and reached down to grab her backpack. I watched her open the door and get out, looking over at me with a strange look on her face before she shut it.

I faced forward in the truck, about to drive away, when I noticed her shadow near my side of the window.

I rolled down the window, wondering if she’d forgotten anything.

I raised one eyebrow up at her when she didn’t speak for three long seconds.

“Uh…” She smiled nervously at me, then leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on my cheek.

I felt that fucking soft kiss all the way to my fucking heart.

“Thank you. For the phone. I’ll see you later.”

And with that, she ran off to the school as if she was being chased by the devil.

I was still feeling that kiss when I drove the truck to Del Paso Heights and parked in a secluded area near Reyes’ trailer.

I got out and walked toward it on foot, moving past it and into Edger’s empty trailer.

I used my own key to get in, and I stayed by the window with the blinds slightly opened while I waited.

I didn’t know how long it would take this fucker to leave, but I could be patient.

After all, there had been too much shit happening in Sacramento lately, and Ozzy Reyes seemed to be at the center of it all.

And I would figure out how he played into this.

About two hours later, the door to his trailer finally opened, and he walked out, the signature wife beater tank on that showed off his beer belly, along with dirty jeans and a cigarette hanging from his mouth to complete the sleazy look.

In his hand was a brown leather bag. I narrowed my eyes on that. I was sure I knew what was in the bag.

It still fucking amazed me that someone as disgusting as this piece of shit could have created someone as fucking perfect as Lainey.

I waited until he was a distance away and followed him on foot.

Fucker didn’t even know he was being hunted.

But it looked like he was heading to his boxing gym.

Following him might be a complete waste of time.

Fuck, but was I wrong? Was Ozzy really not planning anything?

I shook my head.

I wasn’t fucking wrong about this. My instincts told me he was planning something, and my instincts rarely ever let me down.

A few blocks away from the gym, he stopped and looked around. I hid against the wall in the alleyway of two abandoned buildings, watching him as he moved to the corner of the sidewalk bench. He sat down and placed the bag beneath it before standing up and making his way to his boxing gym.

I didn’t follow him. I stayed where I was, and sure enough, not even two minutes had passed when another man I didn’t recognize showed up, sat on the exact bench, and reached for the bag. His movements were too methodical to be put off as coincidence.

This was a fucking drop.

Question was, who was Ozzy paying money to?

The man opened the bag, looked around, and when he didn’t see anyone, counted the money in the bag.

He nodded, satisfied with the payment, and stood up.

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