“Yes?” She sounded irritated.
“Need to talk to you,” Ash said.
“We’re not hiring.”
“Hell no, not that.” Ash winced at the thought of waiting tables. She’d worked at an Italian joint outside Philly for three years. The free food rocked, but the tips were shit, and her boss pressured her into wearing turtlenecks to hide her tattoos, even on summer days. “Would you like to leave town?”
Narducci’s eyes narrowed. “Is this a joke?”
“It’s regarding, you know, the Traders.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Relax, I’m Ash Hudson. Karl’s daughter.”
Narducci’s mouth rounded into an O of understanding. “I see. Well, Ash, I was under the impression that Candace forbade you from making those trades.”
Ash flinched. “Candace told you?”
“We just wrapped up an emergency meeting. She said we weren’t taking that thing’s offer. And for good reason. If Snare were to double-cross us, my two bambinos would grow up without their mother.”
“Wait, I talked to Snare. That’s not—”
Narducci held up a hand. “Save your breath. I’m not interested.”
“You’d rather be stuck here? How old are your kids?”
“Thirteen and twelve.”
“How do you plan on visiting them in college?”
“I don’t. Trust me, I knew what I was getting into when I traded. And I have zero regrets.” The bell jingled above the door. Narducci flashed a bright smile. “Hello! Table or booth?”
Ash saw no point in sticking around. With a sigh she gathered her six-packs and headed outside. Behind her the door slapped shut, then jingled open again.
Someone chirped behind her.
“Wait up!” It was the hostess. She joined Ash outside and looked around before saying, “I’m Berke. Berke Toyama. I’m a Trader. Can we really leave? Like for real?”
Ash gave her the cliff notes. When she finished, Berke’s face lit up.
“Holy craps!” Berke jittered in place as if trying to stomp out an ant colony. “If Snare lets us leave, I can drive my dad’s Mustang on the highway. And I can visit Alex at Penn State. And I’ll finally be free.”
“Sounds like you’re on board.”
Berke nodded enthusiastically. “Listen, I get off work at four. Meet me back here then.”
“Why?”
“So we can take down the cameras.”
24
“Quit your bitching and hurry up,” Candace said, smacking her shovel off the bark of a dead pine. “If this doesn’t get done, you three’ll be shoveling here during your Thanksgiving dinners. Now move it.”
That shut them up. Briefly. Karl, who’d sacrificed his lunch break to be here, hadn’t been complaining, but Bill and Rosita Werner kept running their mouths. Since entering the woods, their tongues outpaced their legs. Normally Karl would tune them out, but right now every word mattered. Sooner or later, if the Werners had indeed abducted Mac, they would slip up and reveal themselves.
Hopefully.
“I don’t see why I have to be out here,” Rosita said, trudging between the pines. She hunched, carrying her shovel like it weighed five hundred pounds. “Karl’s supposed to do the digging. If he can’t finish, how is it my fault?”
“That lazy bum probably slacked off this morning,” Werner said, talking as if Karl wasn’t there. That warmed Karl’s blood to a slow boil. “Next thing you know he’ll have us running patrol duty. Doing all his jobs for him.”
“Ground’s rock solid, Bill.” Much as Karl wanted to tell him off, he needed to keep his tone civil. More than that, he needed to catch them off guard. “Plus, it’s hard digging with a heavy heart. You’ll see. You and Mac were close, right?”
“Not really,” Werner said, twigs snapping underfoot. “Been a long while since we drove trucks together.”
“How can you act so callous?” Candace said, double-teaming Werner. “For Christ’s sake, you invited Mac into the group.”
“So what? Doesn’t mean I wanna be out here freezing my handsome face off. Especially when it’s your job, Karl. What good are you?”
“More good than you,” Karl muttered.
“What’d you say?” Werner said, veering toward him. “Say it again!”
“Keep moving,” Candace said, marching between them. “Both of you.”
They trekked further into the woods. Karl studied the Werners’ faces. All these years he’d known them to be a bitter, grumbling pair. For the moment they stayed in character. No telltale signs of guilt. He wondered if that would change once they reached the grave site.
As the terrain steepened, Werner grew short of breath. He paused to gulp air and grumble about overexerting himself. That was Karl’s fault, of course. Further along, Rosita tripped over a tree root. She hit the ground and dirtied her white peacoat. That was Karl’s fault, too. Everything was.
Everything but Mac’s abduction.
Upon reaching the burial site, Rosita groaned. Not at the sight of the body bag beneath the pines, but at the lack of progress on the grave.
“That’s all you did, Karl?” She dropped her shovel at her feet. “Forget it. I’m not digging. Why should I, when clearly you didn’t?”
“You said it, Rose.” Werner tossed his shovel beside hers. “Karl basically scraped the dirt and called it a day.”
“I told you, the ground’s hard.” Karl stabbed the dirt to demonstrate. His shovel barely nicked the surface. “See? Now if you don’t mind, let’s start. I only got forty minutes left on my break.”
“Oh, great.” Rosita brushed dirt from her peacoat. “That means we’ll have to pick up the slack. By the way, Karl, you owe me a new coat. This was three hundred dollars.”
“Whoa, now,” he said. “I didn’t tell you to wear white in the woods.”
Rosita made a flustered clucking noise. Karl and Candace traded a glance and tried hard not to laugh.
Everyone started shoveling. Karl focused on the Werners. Neither seemed upset about digging Mac’s grave. He wanted to call them out on it, but he held his tongue until they stopped to wipe their brows. Werner caught Karl looking at him and glared back.
“What’s the matter, Karl? Got a thing for me, you sicko?”
“Nothing of the sort.” Karl glanced over at the body bag. “Just wondering how you find the strength to dig at a time like this.”
“Easy. I actually try, unlike you.”
“Doesn’t Mac’s death bother you?”
“Course it does.” Werner leaned on the handle of his shovel and scowled. “When we find the asshole who did this, I’m gonna dig him a grave right where he’s standing.”
“That so?” Karl asked, his tone dubious.
“I ain’t kidding.” Werner’s voice cracked a bit. He stabbed his shovel through the dirt. “This pisses me off. Mac was one of us. And what happened to him, getting killed for his kidneys, that’s sick. Downright sick.”