“So why don’t you help us help you? Give us a swab.”
Taking that as her cue, Annie again held up a cotton swab for Vince.
He got right in Annie’s face, showing a flash of anger that Grace sensed could easily explode into extreme violence at any moment. He took the swab from her, bending it in half with his fingers.
“You’re using a lot of dangerous language with me,” he said darkly. “DNA, blackmail, murder, investigations … but hell, I’ll give you points for your creativity. Look, I’ve got a business to run, obligations to take care of. You two show up to my place of work, threatening all that … that ain’t cool with me.” He cocked his head sideways. “Not cool at all.”
Vince opened his mouth and tossed the bent swab inside. He swished it around, getting it covered in his saliva, before he spat it onto the floor.
“You want my DNA?” he said to Grace. “Go and get it.”
Grace stared at the swab like she would a venomous snake. To get it, she’d have to take her eyes off Vince, but the payoff was too hard to resist. Bending at the knees, Grace sank down, lower and lower, never averting her gaze from the man looming above. She reached for the swab, but had to look away for just a second. A blur of something black streaked into her field of vision, and Grace jerked her hand away a millisecond before the heavy sole of Vince’s work boot would have crushed her fingers underneath.
“Actually, I came up with another idea,” Vince said as Grace stood up. “Why don’t you two ladybirds turn yourselves around and get the fuck out of my garage.”
The anger in his eyes, the heat he gave off, told Grace to get out—and fast. She took a single step backward, sending Annie a look that got her to follow. She didn’t turn around completely until she felt sunshine hit her face, and then she and Annie hurried to the car. She half expected Vince to come barreling out of the garage with a gun drawn, but instead he and his crew emerged merely to watch them drive away, standing in a line, staring straight at them. Only when the repair shop was out of sight did Grace feel like she could breathe again.
“Well, that was a total fail,” said Annie shakily.
“Not exactly.” Grace pushed down on the gas pedal, still reeling from what she’d seen.
“Um, what am I missing here?” asked Annie. “We went to get his DNA and we nearly died.”
“You didn’t see it?”
“See what?”
Grace returned a smile as she left the narrow, crumbling neighborhood for a more populous and prosperous one.
“Are you going to share with me, Miss Mysterious?” asked Annie, sounding annoyed.
“Did you see Vince’s necklace?” asked Grace.
“Yeah,” Annie said before shaking her head. “I mean no. I was too busy trying not to shit my pants.”
Grace sent Annie a fractured smile. “Well, I did,” she said. “And it was a silver chain with a large anchor pendant attached.”
CHAPTER 41
RUTH WHITMORE MADE TIME in her busy schedule to meet with Mitch and discuss his lunchtime seminar. Edgewater doctors, nurses, and corrections officers had come together as Mitch introduced alternative approaches to patient restraints including new techniques for de-escalation and improved processes for collaboration. By way of example, Mitch dedicated some portion of his talk to the contrast between his violent altercation with John Grady, the Mountain Man, and the encounter between Darla and Grace, in which words had been enough to calm her.
CO Blackwood wasn’t one of those in attendance. Mitch noticed that, but everyone who was there seemed eager to learn, and the concentration and pointed questions from his audience revealed another side of Edgewater. For the most part, the people who worked here were capable, caring professionals. Despite their limited resources, they wanted to do the right thing, make a difference in the lives of patients, and be better than they were yesterday.
He hadn’t planned it, but the lecture took place on the day Darla got out of solitary. She’d been arraigned on two counts of assault and attempted murder. Despite curtailing of her privileges, keeping Darla away from Penny would be the correction officers’ responsibility, so before Mitch got into any specifics about the seminar, the first item he wanted to discuss concerned CO Blackwood.
Whitmore greeted Mitch in an impeccably styled navy suit, though her short hair, normally coiffed to precision, appeared somewhat unkempt today. Then again, Mitch figured if he had her job, he’d have no hair at all. He had no idea how Whitmore juggled the many responsibilities and constant crises with such aplomb.