Page 37 of Property of Scythe
“He’s nothing,” Boomer assures me. “The judge threw the book at him. He’ll never get out on parole. If he does, we’ll be there waiting for him.”
I don’t like it, but for now, I’ll concede. “What about the fuckerwho got crushed by my bike?”
“That’s the interesting part. He’s got no connection that I can find to Jerald Carter.”
“Fuck, Boomer. Who is he?”
“Just some asshole with a long rap sheet. His name is Calvin Brown. He’s done time and always ends up back inside. I don’t have a clue how he knows Lottie. From what I can tell, she’s had no interaction with him.”
“Fuck.” I know what he’s saying. “You think this is related to the severed arm.”
“I do.”
“And you believe Lottie is a target.”
“Nothing else makes sense. Based on what you’ve told me about the footprints and the guy in the bloody Art the Clown costume, it’s all connected. The severed limb and the attack have to be coordinated by the same person or group.”
“And Lottie is the next victim.”
“It’s the only logical answer. I’ve sent samples from the arm and Calvin’s remains, but I’m not hopeful we’ll find much. Whoever is orchestrating this is smart enough not to leave fingerprints or trace DNA.”
Fuck! I smack the mattress, and it startles Lottie. She rolls over and faces me, blinking the sleep from her eyes.
“Hi.”
“Hey, baby.”
Boomer gestures toward the door. “I’ll give you some privacy.” He shuts it behind him, knowing I need to speak to Lottie about what we know.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better. Almost back to normal.”
“That’s incredible. I saw you crash. I thought you were going to break your neck.”
I shrug. “I’m not leaving Mila or you that easily.”
“I appreciate that.” She wants to smile, but it falters. “I’m glad you got there in time. You saved my life, Scythe.”
“And I would do it again.”
“I know.” She rises on her knees and leans over to press a soft kiss on my lips. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Lottie.” I cough since my throat is dry and sip from my coffee, finishing it off and setting the mug aside. “We need to talk.”
She’s uneasy. I see her thinking about moving away from me, but I don’t let her. My hand closes around her smaller one, holding it in place.
“What do you want to ask me?”
“I know about Jerald Carter.”
“Boomer found out, right?”
“He did, but only because of the person following you. I asked him to look into it.”
“That makes sense. He’s still in prison, right?”
“Yeah. He’ll never get out.”
