“Can I speak now?” he asked, raising his hand.
Sighing, I nodded, “Yes, you can speak.”
“I understand. Believe me, I do. But how do you plan on making a three-month-old corpse look like it died in an accident? Secondly, I have no idea where she is. I left it to Bo.”
I paused for a second. “You guys said you she would reappear over New Year’s. What were you thinking?”
“There is this open murder investigation —”
“Never mind,” I held my hand up, not wanting to hear about it. “It doesn’t matter, because I thought about it. When I was fourteen, I was on the set of a movie called Street Kings. One of the mechanics was explaining the stunts and how they didn’t want me anywhere near the car when it exploded because it had the ability burn a body to the point of no recognition.”
“A car accident? Which causes the car to explode? Amelia, this isn’t like the movies. Cars just don’t explode—”
“Not explode, but burn intensely. One collision, a strong enough one that ruptures an already weak fuel tank. It takes anywhere from thirty seconds to a minute for the actual car to spark up to where it seems like it is exploding. But it’s just enough to keep people at bay and for Esther to burn through.” When it came to memorization, the ins and outs of movies, I was the best. And this scene I remembered perfectly. I remember the director wanting it to look realistic, the makes and models of all the cars they tested. This could work. This would work. There was only one catch.
“Okay. Let’s say the car burns like you want it to. How will you do the collision?”
I smiled, and I knew he understood what I meant.
“No. Amelia. No—”
“I’m going to be driving.”
“Have you lost your mind? This plan is half-cocked as it is. I can see dozen of ways this could go wrong. Hell, you could be pulled over by the police before you even get to crash! Let alone the state you’ll be in afterward—”
“Exactly. If I’m involved, no one would even think I had anything to do with it. Bo will lose the only card he has—”
“I’m not asking for your permission. I’m letting you know what I am planning to do. The only reason why I came to you is because I need you to fill Noah’s schedule so he’ll be too busy to check in with me. But if I have to, I will lie and go out on my own.”
“You don’t even know where Esther is.”
He needed to stop underestimating me. Lifting my phone from my pocket, I held it up for him to see. “When I was a teenager, Esther gave me these matching necklaces, not knowing a sponsor had given me a ring from the same collection. It has a GPS locator on it. When Bo came to see me, I slipped the ring into his jacket pocket. With this little handy dandy app, I can not only see where he went, but if he came next to any one of my contacts. Esther died wearing that necklace. She stayed in one spot for nine hours before the battery died. Which means…”
“You know where she is,” he groaned, leaning back against the chair. “Noah will kill me—”
“Not, at least, until after he is safer. And I’ll beg him not to.”
“Thanks,” he said, rolling his eyes, but the corner of his lip turned up. “You were right. You are nothing like you once were.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. So are you in or out?”
“Let me see the address,” he demanded.
“You’ll do it without me.”
“Amelia,” he said sternly with his hand out. Sighing, I handed it to him. He stared at it for a long time. The corner of his lip turned up into a small smile. “I’m in. Give me some time to make a few calls and work out everything. The only way this works is if Bo doesn’t have time to move her and the car works exactly the way we need it to.”
“Noah does not hear a word of this,” I repeated, taking the phone back.
He nodded.
I knew this was going to get ugly. I just prayed it worked despite that.
It is going to work. There is no plan B.
Chapter Eight
Noah
There were a few things I hated about Chicago: corrupt politicians, gang violence, the extreme weather, my father, the mystifyingly unclear parking regulations. However, at the very top of that list was none other than the Chicago PD.
It was 5 a.m. Five fucking a.m. I didn’t even know they were capable of being up and alert at 5 a.m. when they barely gave a fuck when the sun was up as it was.
“Mr. Sloan.”
I glared at the idiot in front of me, reaching to the dresser table for my pack of cigarettes. It was only when I had I blown the smoke from my nose that I relaxed enough to actually go hear them out since they had wasted their time coming to my suite.
“What can I do for Chicago’s finest?” I asked, kicking my foot up onto the table. “After all, I’ve been here for twenty-four hours. Thank you for restraining yourselves from arresting and slapping bullshit charges on me like the last time I was here. How’s Mallory?”
The two of them tensed.
Coughing, the female, whose blonde hair was pulled back so tight I wasn’t sure how she could move her head, moved to take a seat. “Mr. Sloan—”
“Ah no,” I snapped my fingers at her. “Guests sit down. You are not a guest. I do not want you comfortable, we are not friends, and hell, I have half a mind to tell you to get the fuck out.”
“Noah,” Austin spoke up from behind me. The only reason I was even doing this shit was because he had pulled me out of bed.
“Mr. Sloan, would you rather do this downtown? Because I can—”
“You can what?” I interrupted her again, taking another long drag and staring at her partner, who for the most part kept his mouth shut. He was young, so I could see why. “Do you really want to be that officer? The one who so badly wanted to stick out in your little colony of ants that you tried biting me? How’s Officer Dacosta? He and the union are fighting to get his job back now, right?”
Her jaw tensed, her fist balling up. “Have you heard anything from your father—”
“Estranged father. I was emancipated as a teenager and haven’t been in contact since.”
“Have you heard anything from your estranged father, Mr. Sloan? As you may know, there is a warrant out for his arrest.”
Tilting my head back, I looked at Austin. “Austin, has Frank tried to be in contact?”
“You don’t know?” the boy behind her finally spoke up.
“Estranged means no longer close or affectionate to someone. Alienated. Distant. Where did I lose you?” I questioned.
“Yes or no, Mr. Sl—”
“No,” Austin answered. “Mr. Sloan has not been in contact with his father.”
She forced a smile. “We need to hear it from you, Mr. Sloan. After all, I’m sure your manager can’t keep tabs on you all the time.”
You’d be fucking surprised.
“No. I have not been in contact with Frank. I do not know where he is. I have not had any affiliation with Frank Sloan. And that is all the time I have for you both this morning. Any more questions, and I’ll have to get my lawyer involved, and there will be a harassment suit filed as well.”
On that note, Austin walked around the chair. “I’ll show you both out.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sloan, for your cooperation.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” I replied emotionlessly.