LACROIX TOOK ME home and dumped me on the couch. He then played GTA on the gaming console for the next couple of hours until I kicked him and told him to go home. I know he was worried about me, but he hid it well by being an inconsiderate jerk.
As it was, I slept fitfully. My ribs hurt the most, but once I got past the whole breathing problem, I crashed for a few hours.
Around noon, I woke up and forced myself to get out of bed. I made my way into the kitchen and realized my coffee maker was still broken. I needed to do something about that soon. Also, I was out of coffee.
On my way to the nearest coffee shop, I got a panicked call from Gail Waterman. She said there was a message from her daughter on her voicemail, and I needed to hear it. I asked her if she’d meet me at the coffee shop, and she said she’d be right over. It saved me the trouble of finding a cab at this time of day, and the logistics of having her somehow emailing me a copy of a voicemail message left on a service.
The call was from an unknown number. Probably another burner phone, or maybe a landline where she was currently hiding. I noted the number and would send it to Vijay or Lacroix to trace. The message was troubling, but for different reasons than I was expecting. She said that she was okay, but wouldn’t say where she was. She said she loved her mom and she was sorry for everything. It got all mixed up. She didn’t mean for any of this to happen. And that they were still after her.
I told Gail Waterman about my encounter with the drug dealers. She nodded gravely, and I could see the doom creeping up her face.
“I’ll find her,” I said.
“Thank you. Do whatever you can.”
“In the meantime, keep this message to yourself. The police won’t get involved if they get a message where she says she’s okay. It reads like a confession and apology from a runaway.”
Gail Waterman nodded and then broke down.
It had now been four days since she saw her daughter. But at least she was alive. I grabbed my coffee and prepared to break someone else’s bones today.