Liquid Smoke

FORTY-SIX

Ringing.

In the distance.

I forced my eyes open. I’d fallen asleep on the sofa. And the phone was ringing.

I scrambled around in the dark living room and found the phone on the dining room table. “Hello?”

“Well, I decided I’m not the patient type,” Landon Keene said.

The fogginess from sleep lifted immediately, and I gripped the phone tighter.

“Kid, you listening?” he said.

“Fuck you.”

“Good, good,” he said. “Like I said, I’m not good with patience. Decided I couldn’t leave it to you to make the right decision. Know what I mean?”

My fingers tingled. “No.”

“You seem a little stubborn. Just like your old man. Couldn’t risk that you’d do something dumb. Like repeating what he told you.”

“You better run, asshole,” I said. “I’ve already told the cops about your operation. They’re coming for you. And I hope they have to shoot you to catch you.”

“That right?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Guess I made the right decision then.”

My skin went cold and I couldn’t find any words.

The line buzzed. The room lit up for a moment as lightning struck in the distance. He knew he had me.

“The look in her eyes,” he said, a soft laugh drifting through the phone. “She was so surprised to see me.”

The room hollowed out. My heart rate accelerated like someone had pushed a button. Spots started flashing between my eyes. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Carolina and left her alone.

“If you—”

“I did. Maybe now you’ll get it.” He hung up.