Thread of Hope (The Joe Tyler Series, #1) (43 page)

It always surprised me that bullies couldn’t sense when they were around someone they wouldn’t be able to handle. Boyd knew nothing about me. He knew nothing about the anger inside me, the rage that stayed at bay inside me most days.

Unless provoked.

Boyd stepped in closer so that we were almost nose to nose. The stench of stale beer and cigarettes assaulted my nostrils. “Talk. Come on. You can do it.”

“Let’s go, Joe,” Isabel said, tugging at the sleeve of my jacket.

Boyd knocked her arm away. “Not until he
…
”

My open palm slammed into the side of his face, and he swallowed his words. He stumbled to the side, off the sidewalk and into the street. I followed him, put my hands on his chest and shoved hard. He fell backward onto the trunk of a sedan parked at the curb.

His eyes were wide, probably surprised that a guy of average size could push so hard.

He had no idea.

“If you get off that car, I’ll break your arm,” I said. “The one you touched her with. I’ll snap it in half, right between your wrist and your elbow.”

Snow speckled his face, his cheeks bright pink, his breath coming out of his mouth in bursts of cold fog. A fat, red welt was forming at the corner of his mouth where I’d struck him. His eyes moved from me to his friend.

“Sounds like he means it, Boyd,” Stevie said behind me. “I’d stay there until he tells you to get up.”

“Joe, let’s go,” Isabel said. “Please.”

I stared hard at Boyd. I didn’t like that he’d touched her. I didn’t need to make any of it my business, but there was something about the way he’d swiped at her arm that bothered me. And it seemed as if I didn’t need much of a push anymore to cut my anger loose.

I stepped back onto the sidewalk.

Boyd stayed on the car.

I moved my eyes to Stevie.

He held his hands up, like he wanted nothing to do with me. He wasn’t scared, just didn’t want to tangle at that moment. “Hey, man. We’re cool.”

“Get your friend and go,” I said.

He helped Boyd up and whispered something to him that I couldn’t make out. They headed down the sidewalk away from us, Boyd glancing over his shoulder at me.

As they walked away, I had no doubt that we were anything but cool.

SIX

“What’s your cell number?” Isabel asked, opening the door to her car.

I told her.

She fished her phone from the console in her car, punched some numbers on it, then looked at me. “I just sent you a contact.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

“She works at DCFS,” she said. “If she can’t get you information on Bailey, she’ll know who can. Call her tomorrow morning. I’ll call her tonight and give her a heads-up that you’ll be contacting her.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

“And maybe we could meet up at some point tomorrow?” she said. “Talk a little bit more about Marc?”

I lifted my chin in the direction we’d just come from. “Maybe tell me about those guys?”

She played with the zipper on the jacket. “Don’t worry about them. But thanks. For what you did. You didn’t need to, though.”

She was clearly uncomfortable talking about them and I didn’t want to push her. It was none of my business. But there was more to it than she was willing to tell me.

“Sure. Tomorrow,” I said.

“And I’m guessing you need a place to stay,” she said.

“I’ll find a place.”

She reached into her bag and fumbled around a bit, the pulled out a key and card. “Here.”

“I can find a place.”

She frowned. “My little endeavor doesn’t exactly pay the bills, so I’m a property manager for a small complex. Over in Linden Hills. It’s not far from here. We’ve always got empties.”  She thrust the key at me. “If you feel like you have to pay me, we can work it out later. But you’ll have more space than in a hotel room and you’ll have a kitchen. It’s not furnished, but I should be able to get my hands on some furniture and other things tomorrow.”

I hesitated, then took the key and the card. “Okay. Thanks.”

She nodded. “Address is on the card. Call me if you have trouble finding it. Otherwise, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She got into her car and drove off.

I stood there at the curb for awhile, letting the snow fall around me, watching cars crawl up and down the street as the sky moved from gray to black.

I wasn’t sure where to go, what to do. I’d come to Minneapolis because of a picture and an address. The address, thus far, had led to nothing. Yeah, I’d found Jacob Detwiler, but that hadn’t done me much good. Maybe it would, but I wasn’t very good at being patient. I wanted something immediately.

I pulled the picture out of my pocket, unfolded it.

I traced Elizabeth’s face.

For the millionth time, I wondered where exactly she was.

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