They’d headed west until they came to a diner. With the night as bitterly cold as it was, the warm interior of the twenty-four-hour venue was more than welcome. Morgan took a seat by the door—far enough not to suffer the breeze from every entering customer.
The waitress introduced herself and filled their coffee cups from a pot. Morgan sat in silence until she left, which was when he addressed the big question that’d hung over him like a dark cloud. “How are we going to tackle this?”
Mason sipped his coffee and smiled. It wasn’t unpleasant, just surprising. “That’s entirely up to you. You saw what it was like up there; it doesn’t matter how fast we move, she’d see us coming and your little boy would be a goner.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“Do we involve the cops or not?” Morgan asked this, but he’d already made a call to Gary, and he was on his way. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t make the decision now and reveal it to Gary later—he would understand.
Mason grinned, closing his eyes to sniff the coffee. He took another sip. “Personally? I wouldn’t. But I guess you thought as much from studying my background. Anyway, you’re not the only one who’s called in some help.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Doesn’t matter. The point is, whatever you want to do, you’ll have three good people here waiting on your every command.” He shivered. “Damn, it’s cold in here.”
Morgan hadn’t noticed, but he was wearing significantly more than present company: a sweater, jacket, and a coat on top. He slid the latter off and handed it over, but Mason refused.
“Thanks, but not my style. No offense.”
None taken, Morgan thought with a bout of sarcasm. He placed it on the chair beside him. “Look, I don’t think the MPD will be of any use here. I’ve had more than enough dealings with them to know they can be hit or miss. But this? This is my son on the line. I can’t risk that. Besides, I made a promise to Rachel.”
“Which was?”
“That Erika would suffer.”
“You don’t think jailtime would do that?”
“Not significantly enough.”
Mason chortled. “Been there, friend.”
The door swung open. That cold blast of air surprised Morgan after all. He craned his neck toward the entrance and saw a suited man he didn’t recognize. He was dumpy-looking with a receding hairline and a five-o’clock shadow. A haversack hung from his left hand, but Morgan’s attention drifted toward the man behind him.
Gary found him and pointed.
“Oh good.” Mason stood and shook hands with the first man, taking the bag from him. Without another word, he unzipped it and dug his hand inside, rifling through its contents.
“A change of clothes and your gun,” the man whispered.
Morgan’s ears pricked at the word. He turned to Gary and whispered, “Who’s this?”
“I’m Bill Harvey,” the man proffered, holding out his hand.
“Morgan Young.” He shook it, recalling the name from Mason’s file.
“I hear you have a kind of personal dilemma,” he said in a loud, clear voice. “As a cop I’m not really a fan of… let’s say vigilante justice… but I’m indebted to Mason, and he’s calling it in. Looks like you made the right friend at the right time.”
“No kidding.” Morgan looked at Gary and they had a conversation with their eyes that only lifelong friends could. It may have been misread, but the raising of eyebrows and a sharp nod of the head told Morgan this guy was okay.
Satisfied, Mason finally set down the bag, “Good job. Now that everyone’s here, I say we head back to that motel and haggle for a couple of cheap rooms. We can get a plan together and figure out how best to approach this.”
Morgan already felt out of place. Not only were there three cops in the room, but every one of them was about to hear about his desire to kill Erika Givens. He was certain he could trust Gary with that information, and he was even getting used to Mason Black. But who exactly was this Bill character? Mason seemed to trust him, and maybe that should’ve been good enough. Still, he couldn’t shake that feeling of being the odd one out.
“Well?” Mason pressed.
Taking one last glance at Bill to ensure he didn’t look guilty of something, Morgan leaned over the seat and grabbed his coat. Whatever they were doing, they had to get moving, because there was no telling how long Erika would keep his baby safe.