Page 26 of Being Lost

As Dart jerks his head, I follow him a short distance away. “He’s called Jim Herd. I’ve taken a picture of his driver’s licence. Not sure how bright he is, or whether you’ve got him off the scent. We let him go…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence; he doesn’t have to. Last thing I want is anything that links us with Patsy. On the other hand, I’m not happy about killing a man who only wanted money for his next fix.

I take the few steps needed to bring me back to face Patsy’s stalker. “Okay, Jim. As we said, we don’t like people terrifying women or putting them in danger. We know where you live and will soon know everything about you. We’re going to hang onto your phone for now—”

“You can’t steal that from me. It’s got my contact list in it.”

And his dealer on speed dial I would suspect.

“I’ll get it back to you tomorrow. This time, same as now. A prospect will come drop it off for you.”

His eyes flick between us. His fear of an immediate demise is gone, but we’re stealing his lifeline as far as he’s concerned. On my part, I don’t have to give it back, possession is nine tenths of the law, and a person like him won’t run to the cops about the remaining ten percent. But I’m aware I may need to speak to Jimboy again.

So when he asks, “I can trust you?” I nod my head.

Yes, he can trust me on this. I deepen my voice so he takes me seriously. “We’ll return your phone when we’ve checked out your story, and we’re letting you off today as you’ve cooperated. But one word out of your mouth, one fuckin’ word that Satan’s Devils are protecting the malls and you’ll find yourself in a world of pain you wouldn’t believe. You’ll be pissing blood for weeks and sucking food down a tube. That’s if you’re lucky enough to be left alive. You hearing me, Jim? You picking up what I’m laying down?”

His eyes widen in horror. “I don’t want trouble with your MC. I won’t say a word.”

“Make sure you don’t. We’ve got eyes and ears in places you’d never believe. Like how we found out about your stalking activities today. We hear one word about us talking to you tonight, and hey, you’ll no longer need to feed your habit as you’ll be begging for a bullet instead.”

“My… wallet?”

Dart hands it back with his money intact, as I pocket the phone. “Get lost,” I tell him.

Jim wastes no time, though I notice he checks to make sure all his money is still carefully encased in the leather as he goes off, presumably to score for the night.

Chapter Nine

Patsy

Idrive home without incident, my hands shaking, knuckles white, as they hold onto the wheel so tightly as I navigate streets I’m only just starting to learn. Stopping at red lights sends fear rushing through me, and I checked I had the locks engaged each time. When I reach my house, I rush inside, not even bothering to scoop up my shopping and bring it along with me.

I pour myself a glass of wine, resisting the urge to gulp it down. I need something to settle my nerves, not to incapacitate me, just in case someone comes to the house and I need to escape.

Then I wait, scared and lonely.

Lost will make contact I’m sure.But until he does, I’m left in limbo, not knowing whether I should try to make plans to disappear tonight. He’d confirmed someone had been following me. What if there were more than one, and undetected, another man had followed me home?

I pace, sip my wine, and think that I’m a middle-aged woman who shouldn’t have to worry about stalkers. When I threw in my lot with Dan, I hadn’t thought through it wasn’t just my daughter I was leaving, but my safe existence carefully cultivated over the years. I should have expected Dan’s past would catch up with him.

But how would they know?Connor Foster is dead and cremated. It’s Dan Forster who’s living with me in San Diego. I can’t blame him. It’s my fault. Why did I break and ring Beth?

When the front door opens and closes, I spin around, quickly filled with relief. As soon as he enters the living room, I’m on my feet, rushing to greet him and throwing myself into my son’s arms.

“What’s up, Mom?” He hugs me for a moment, then gently pries away the fingers gripping him so tightly, pushing me away and holding me at arm’s length.

“Someone followed me today.” The words come out fast and unfiltered.

“Fuck.”

His eyes go wide, then become shuttered with fear. He lets go of my arms and starts to pace, his hand wiping his hair back from his forehead. “Fuck,” he repeats. His feet cease movement when he’s back in front of me. “What, where? Do you mean they followed you here?” Now his gaze goes to the windows covered by the drawn curtains. “Mom, we need to leave.”

Hastily I reassure him, telling him the steps I’d taken, and that Lost had assured me it was safe for me to come home.

“How does Lost know? Was he sure?” Again, his hand brushes through his hair. “Fuck. Someone could know where we are right now.” He turns and paces again, his body vibrating in agitation. Suddenly he stops. “This is all my fault, Mom. Why don’t you go back to Pueblo? It’s me they want, not you. You’ll be safe there. I thought we could make a clean break, but that hasn’t worked, and I don’t want you dragged into my shit.”

I can’t let him own this when it’s down to me. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I was the one who called Beth.” Stupid mistake, but I missed my daughter, and thought what I’d done was safe.

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