Page 94 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

Malcolm zoomed in and froze the frame.

“Recognize him?” he asked.

I stared at the screen and then let out a low, almost disbelieving breath. “Send it to Eddie.”

Seconds later, Eddie’s voice came through my phone again. “Yeah, that’s Ira.”

Silence settled over the living room, thick and heavy, as if the entire space was holding its breath.

Finally, Jackson groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “The old man stole her?”

“Eloped with her is more like it,” Jesse snickered.

Benny whistled. “I love these people. Where did we find them?”

Sasha, standing behind the couch with her arms crossed, grinned like she was ready to buy Ira a trophy. “That’s badass.”

Malcolm pulled another window open, already a step ahead. “So, plan B. I’m tracking Ira’s credit cards.”

Nothing like that had occurred to me yet, so I stared at him for a moment. “What?”

“Relax,” Malcolm muttered, typing furiously. “Your guy’s old-school—no burner phones, no crypto, nothing off the books. He uses a regular-ass Visa tied to his pension account. And he just made a purchase two hours ago.”

Malcolm’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he pulled up Ira’s financial transactions. His screen refreshed, and his brows lifted.

“Well, well, well. Grandpa’s been busy.”

We all crowded around as he pulled up the latest charges. First, a sizeable purchase at Walmart—timestamped early that morning—followed by a stop at a gas station not long after.

“What the hell did he buy at Walmart?” Jesse asked, leaning in. “Half the store?”

Malcolm clicked into the details. “Groceries, clothes, medical supplies. A couple of camping items, too.”

Marcus crossed his arms. “Sounds like he’s setting up to hunker down.”

“Or survive off-grid,” Elijah suggested grimly.

“They’re on the move.” My gut tightened as I spoke. “They’re not just hiding out in Orlando anymore—they’re getting out.”

Sasha, pacing near the door with her phone clutched in her hand, spun back toward us. “Maybe they’re heading for the bayou cabin.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of realization settling over everyone. It made sense—too much sense.

But I shook my head, biting the inside of my cheek. “It’d be a nightmare getting her there.”

Marcus frowned. “Why?”

“You can’t drive a car right up to the cabin,” I pointed out, frustrated just thinking about it. “You’ve got to park way out and then either hike through half a mile of swamp trail or haul over unstable ground. Even I struggled the first time—and I wasn’t full of broken bones and surgical stitches.”

Benny let out a low whistle. “And you’re telling me Ira—who’s got to be, what, a hundred years old and made of spit and stubbornness—is gonna pull that off?”

“He’s determined enough,” Jesse mused.

“But it’s still damn near impossible.” I raked a hand through my hair, my skin buzzing with worry. “It doesn’t add up. Unless he’s got another plan to get her closer without walking the whole way.”

Malcolm shrugged. “Maybe he’s planning to wheel her in. If the guy can steal a gurney, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

The idea of Gabby being bounced around in a wheelchair over swamp grass made my stomach twist hard.

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