Page 39 of Lord Have Mercy Part Four: Big Son

When she pushed up from the table, she found that her knees were trembly and weak, and she had to clutch at the edge of the table for balance.

“Get going,” the blonde snapped. “Stop faking that shit.”

It wasn’t fake – neither was the way her heart kicked like a triphammer. She seemed to be moving in slow motion down the hall, the light that fell through the sidelights on either side of the door miles distant, the end of an endless tunnel. But then, before she was ready, she was at the door, her hand on the knob. She turned back to look over her shoulder.

The blonde had ducked into the dining room, nothing but her face and gun hand visible. She pointed at her eyes, and then at Tina.I’m watching you. Don’t try anything.

Tina turned back to the door, braced herself, and opened it.

It was neither Boyle nor Alex, but a woman. She spotted a flash of blonde hair, and bit back a groan of dismay. Did this bitch have a sister? A friend? Was another gun about to be unsteadily thrust into face, by an overprocessed, washed up showgirl?

But then the differences leaped out at her.

The woman standing on her welcome mat was tall, and indeed blonde, but her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, and her makeup was light and practical, and not caked over a fake orange tan. She was dressed in a t-shirt, fitted dark slacks, and a blazer. Low-heeled boots.

She beamed at Tina. “Tina, hi!” And then, before Tina could react, swept her into a tight hug. “It’s so good to see you!”

“What?” Tina said, startled.

In her ear, barely audible, the woman whispered, “My name’s Izzy. I’m an agent. Alex sent me.”

An agent! Alex sent her! Hope leaped in Tina’s chest, and her arms closed tightly around the woman – Izzy – on helpless, joyful instinct.

But as quick as it came, the hope was dashed by the knowledge of what lay behind her in the house. “She has a gun,” she whispered back.

“I know,” Izzy whispered, then pushed her back at arm’s length. “You look great.” She steered Tina back into the house, and turned her, so that she stood between Tina and the doorway to the dining room.

Oh no. A glance proved the blonde had ducked out of sight, but that wasn’t reassuring.

~*~

Tenny had a slender, collapsible pair of binoculars held to his face where they were ducked down across the street fromAlex’s mother’s house, hidden behind the rear end of an old Buick parked at the curb.

“Shit,” he murmured, tucking the binoculars back into the inside pocket of his jacket. “It’s that blonde fed from the café.”

“Duet?” Ava asked, startled, and stood up straighter to get a better look over the Buick’s trunk. Sure enough, Isabella Duet stood in the open door of the house, hugging an older blonde woman who must be Tina Bonfils as if they were old friends. “Shit, do they already know each other?”

Tenny let out a quiet whistle. “Man moves fast, I suppose.”

Ava shook her head, watching as Duet backed Tina into the house and then heeled the door closed. “No. Alex must have called her and asked her to swing by.”

“How’s that for trust?”

“Yeah.” Ava didn’t like that a badge-wielding agent had joined the fray, but this was Alex’s mom: he was understandably panicked and wanted all the help he could get. But, selfishly… “She better not arrest Boyle,” she said, darkly. “I want that fucker mounted on a wall somewhere, not eating three squares in a cell.”

“You’re assuming he’d do hard time,” Tenny said, drily, and then began crab-walking sideways down the length of the Buick. “Stay here. Keep an eye out. Call me if someone pulls up.” He paused at the Buick’s nose, hands braced on the hood, and shot her a hard, pointed look. “Stay here,” he repeated.

“God, okay. Just go.”

He went, with an unimpressed look that said he didn’t trust her. He was smart not to.

~*~

Tina widened her eyes and tipped her head in a silent bid to convey the blonde’s location.

Izzy’s face was tense, ready, and she nodded. She kept one hand on Tina’s shoulder, and with the other reached inside her blazer; the fabric shifted and Tina saw that she had a gun in a shoulder holster there, and that she gripped its butt tightly. When she spoke – voice falsely bright – it concealed the quiet pop of the safety strap coming off the holster. “Gosh, it's been a long time! Did you get my email?”

Tina glimpsed movement from the dining room doorway. “Look–” she started.

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