Point of View: Narrator
Brian looked at the clock on the dashboard of his Jeep and groaned. Kevin was probably already waiting somewhere at LAX, irritated and leaning against his suitcases. Brian could almost picture the lean figure of his cousin, one arm folded across his chest, the other extended as he looked at the heavy gold watch he always wore on his left wrist. Brian puffed out his cheeks in irritation and stretched his neck, as though trying to look over the vehicles in front of him - like maybe he would suddenly have X-ray vision and be able to see what the hell the hold up was.
Leighanne had warned him he was going to end up late, but he'd been busy showing Baylee how to beat a particular enemy on the Legend of Zelda Nintendo DS game that he'd been playing. It was a matter of a pattern, really, and once you figured out the pattern you could beat the enemy every time, but Baylee had been getting frustrated because he'd been playing the same scene for days. So Brian had been showing his son the pattern, getting the enemy just about defeated and then purposely letting Link die so Baylee could try.
"You're going to be late," Leighanne's voice was similar to the tone she'd used with Baylee earlier in the week when she'd warned him not to skateboard on the front steps. "You're going to get hurt," was the warning that time, though. And she'd been right.
Both times.
Brian pressed his forehead against the steering wheel and groaned as the digital number switched from an 8 to a 9. He was almost fifteen minutes late.
Brian groaned and reached for the button on his Bluetooth headset as his cell phone started vibrating from the passenger seat.
"I know," Brian said, "I know, I'm late. I'm sorry. I'm stuck in traffic."
There was a pause of dead air, then a deep, strangely familiar voice said into the line, "I know where you can find the evidence you need."
Brian paused. "Who is this? AJ? Is this AJ?"
"No."
"Who is this?"
"Do you want the evidence or not?"
"Yes, yes of course..." Brian's heart was pounding in his chest.
"Then take these directions."
Brian grabbed a pen off his visor, looked around for some paper, saw none, and quickly started writing on his own forearm, his hands shaking as the stranger spoke, delivering an address in the ghetto part of Los Angeles.
Brian stared at the info on his arm and hesitated. "How do I know you're not lyng to me?" he asked nervously.
"That's a chance you'll have to take," the voice responded.
Leon hung up the phone.
He snorted under his breath and sat down at the table, chuckling to himself.
The news that Nick's lawyer had quit the case had traveled fast, as had the rumor that all of Nick's evidence had been stolen. Leon had sworn and punched the wall when he heard. Nick staying in jail was not an option. He could never get to him there, could never finish what he'd started. No... Leon needed Nick free.
And he'd have liked to get his hands on whoever was making this harder on him.
Luckily, being the one who killed Desi, Leon knew exactly what secret Desi had been harboring, what pieces of the puzzle Desi could fill. He'd listened to the cellphone messages. Leon knew what really happened that night with Krystal... He also knew where Desi's phone was... and that, he knew, was the key to getting Nick freed.
He imagined the look on Nick's face when, freed, he arrived home in Tennessee one of these days only to find him there, waiting.
With that, he was more than willing to help.
