Page 168 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
“I agree with you. I think the prosecutor will, too.”
“Good.” Before I hang up, a question comes to mind, and I allow myself to ask. After this, I’ll be done for good. “How did he get the guns into the arena?”
Detective Gallagher hums, and I hear the clacking of a keyboard before she answers. When she speaks, it sounds like she’s reading the information from a file.
“He was working for the food distribution company as a truck driver in Florida. The night of your concert, he posed as an employee. No one even asked questions.”
Something Sean had said the day I stopped by my mom’s house flashes in my memory.How many crates of nacho cheese you reckon I gotta deliver ‘til I’m makin’ what you’re makin’?
“Huh.” I shake my head and mumble under my breath. “Nacho cheese.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” I huff out a tired laugh. “I just never thought I’d wish my brother had stuck with boosting cars.”
For the briefest of moments, I almost ask the detective if Sean has said why. Why did he bring the guns? Why did he start targeting Callie? Why did he stalk Sav at all? Before the words can even form in my throat, though, they disappear. I don’t actually care. I don’t want to know why he did any of it. I just want to be done with him. The realization is freeing.
“Well, thank you for calling and letting me know, Detective Gallagher. I appreciate it.”
“Of course, Mr. King. And I was wanting to ask...”
She trails off for a breath, hesitating. People are so afraid to ask about Callie, and to an extent, I get it. No one wants to pry. No one wants to seem nosy. No one wants to be told to mind their fucking business by Torren King. I cut the detective some slack and give an answer before she can ask.
“Callie is doing well, Detective. She’s been discharged and is home.” I smile to myself as a I speak, my eyes never leaving my bed. She’s here. She’s safe. I take a deep breath. “She’s healing,” I say finally. “Thank you for asking.”
After I hang up with the detective, I pull up my mom’s contact. I block her number, then delete it from my phone. I do the same with Sean’s, though I doubt he’ll be using his cell while in prison. When that’s done, I call Hammond. He answers on the third ring despite the late hour.
“Torren. Is everything alright?”
“Everything is fine, Ham. I just got off the phone with Detective Gallagher, actually.”
“She told you about Sean?”
“She did.” I take one last drag from my cigarette, then stub it out in the ashtray. “I want the checks to stop.”
Hammond doesn’t respond right away, but I know he knows what I’m talking about. He’s been against sending my mom money from the very beginning, but he’s done what I asked without fail. Every payout from the label, Ham’s sent a portion of my check to Florida. For almost a decade.
“It will be done by morning.”
“Thanks.”
“Torren.”
“Yeah, I know. You told me so.”
“No.”
“Then, what?”
“I’m proud of you.”
My lips turn up at the corners. I think hell might have just frozen over. I almost say as much, but I don’t want to ruin the moment.
“Thank you, Hammond,” I say sincerely. “That means a lot.”
Hours later, I jolt up from the bed with a gasp.
I rub at my eyes, chasing away the picture of Callie, upside down and bleeding. Of Sav’s Porsche, a heap of twisted metal. Of a gravestone.
