Page 94 of Taking Care of the Target

“You should go find her. With Carlo in jail, it’s the perfect time.”

Vince wrapped his hand around his keys until the jagged edges dug deep into his palm.Divert the pain. Control the situation.

After all, the end was almost in sight. As soon as Carlo was convicted and most of his boys were behind bars, Vince was leaving, taking Bobby with him, and going on a search that might never give him the results he wanted.

Until then, if Bobby didn’t stop bringing up Cassie, he was going to need a new place to live.

***

The water in the tiny hotel shower ran brown for a couple of minutes before it turned clear. Cassie shampooed and let the water run over her hair again. The bubbles were a bit brown, but eventually the water ran clear again.

She wrapped a towel around herself, used the blow-dryer hanging on the wall next to the cream-colored vanity, and then picked her slightly steamed glasses off the counter and stared at her reflection.

So that’s what Chocolate Truffle colored hair looks like.Buying hair dye when you were hungry was a bad idea. Everything sounded delicious instead of toxic.

After the sob-fest that saying goodbye to everyone at the Hurst’s brought on, Cassie returned to the apartment she shared with Deanne. She shoved the essentials in her backpack and everything else she could fit into a small suitcase and hugged Deanne until they both ran out of tears. Then she had to have a fight with Owen, who’d shown up and said he was going with her, before finally compromising a little and letting him drive her to a car rental place.

She drove long into the night and made it through most of Missouri before her eyes and body had screamed for sleep. Summoning every ounce of her energy, she made a stop at a twenty-four hour drugstore where she grabbed the hair dye and—thanks to the subliminal names on the boxes—a bag of chocolate.

Then she crashed until eleven, woke up, and got to work on her transformation. She picked up the scissors, debating what exactly she was going to do with them for a minute or two. Her hair had grown quite a bit in the last few months, which should help with the different look she was going for.

Hmm. How to change it up even more…She cut herself a thick side-swept bang, and studied herself again. With her lenses now clear, she noticed her bloodshot eyes. Fabulous.

Speaking of eyes, I need to find an eye doctor.She shuddered at the thought, but she might as well get it over with as soon as possible. It wasn’t like there was ever going to be a better time to start sticking her finger in her eye.

She glanced at the phone on the nightstand. To wait, or to find out as much as possible now? The card the FBI agent gave Maude was in her purse, but before she decided whether or not to make that call, she wanted to talk to someone she trusted.

She picked up the phone and chanted, “Please don’t go to voicemail, please don’t go to voicemail.”

***

“We got it!” Uffizi strode into the room and sat across from Carlo. “We got the complete list of witnesses.”

Carlo couldn’t believe his lawyer had wanted to delay the trial and drag this prison stint out longer. He wanted out, and he wanted it now. Wanted this whole thing to be done with. He’d sit in front of that jury, charm them, cause plenty of reasonable doubt, and get on with his life.

If people on the witness list needed motivation to change their testimony before that could happen, he needed to get on it. It’d be more difficult with most of his men indicted, but he still had plenty of contacts.

“So, let’s have it,” Carlo said. Uffizi came in acting like he possessed a golden ticket, and now that he was seated across from him, he seemed to reconsider his excitement.

Uffizi opened his large briefcase. “Every single one of your guys is on the list as a potential witness.”

“All my guys are turning on me?”

“No, but the prosecution is covering their bases, saying they want the right to call any of these guys. Sal, Dante…” Uffizi listed the rest of the guys, from the top of his organization to the bottom, and a couple of Carlo’s other associates, as well as a few forensics experts and FBI agents. “Oh, and some woman.” Uffizi lifted the list and squinted at it. “Cassandra Dalton. No testimony on record, but they have her listed as a potential witness. Know anything about her?”

“She used to work for Rossi’s as a waitress.”

“Well, they must think she has some damning evidence. I know the feds are looking hard for her—got that tip from one of the inside guys.” Uffizi leaned in. “He didn’t come cheap either.”

“Well, in exchange for my life or fifty years behind bars, I’ll pay. As for Cassandra…She won’t be a problem.”

“How can you be sure?”

“You don’t want to know.” Thank goodness he had her taken care of, or he might start to worry.

Uffizi held up his hands, like he didn’t already know. But there was knowing and having the words said. Uffizi liked to keep his hands “clean.” Kind of like Vince used to.

“And that’s the good news.” Uffizi’s lip trembled a bit.

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