16
They'd parked in a well-lit section of the main lot and, as before, Jack moved into Christy's car where she recounted the events since they'd parted.
It never ceased to amaze him how quickly things could go from bad to complete crap.
Had to hand it to Bolton, though. Dirty as it was, telling Dawn that her mother had come on to him was a sick masterstroke. But one that could have backfired had he not known about the butterfly tattoo.
"So you see," she said finally, "this changes everything."
Jack wasn't following. "I don't see how."
She looked at him with teary eyes, gleaming in the glow from the streetlights. "I've lost her. She'll never trust me again, and she'll certainly never come back home again unless…"
"Unless what?"
"Unless she's got nowhere else to go."
Jack hoped this wasn't going where he sensed it was. He decided to let her fill in the blanks.
"How does that happen? Get Bethlehem to kick her out?"
She shook her head. "That won't happen either." Her voice hardened. "That man has to die."
He raised a hand. "Whoa, now. I hope you don't think I'm going to—"
She lifted the Talbot's bag that had been lying between them on the front seat and thrust it at him.
"There's a quarter of a million in here. It's yours if you make it happen."
Jack didn't touch it. "Sorry. I don't—"
"Then find someone who will!" she said, her voice rising in pitch and volume. "You must have contacts, you must know somebody—"
"Forget it. Keep pushing and I walk."
She stared at him a moment, then slumped back against the seat and barked out a harsh laugh.
"What is it with llüs money? Is it cursed or something so that nobody will take it?"
"It's the same money you offered Bethlehem?"
She nodded. "He wouldn't take it, you won't take it… God, it's a quarter of a million bucks and no one wants it!"
"Let's put aside murder for the moment and look at this from another angle…"
Murder… if someone knocked off Bolton, the mysterious "agency" connected to Creighton would have Jack down as the most likely suspect.
"What other angle is there?"
Bolton knowing about the tattoo bothered him. Christy had told him her theory about a hidden minicam. Jack had trouble buying into that. Where would a guy who'd been locked away his entire adult life learn to install something like that?
But if no minicam, where had he learned about the tattoo? How many men had Christy had sex with over the years? Could one of them be involved with Bolton?
Or was it someone else? Someone from way further back in her past?
"We can't play games with this any longer, Christy. I need to know about Dawn's father."
He heard a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, God! I can't!"
Jack saw her stiffen. She squeezed her eyes shut as her breathing tempo picked up. Starting to hyperventilate. Looked like she was going to have another panic attack.
That must have been one traumatic relationship.
He put her hand on her shoulder.
"Easy, easy. Just say his name, give me a few vital statistics, and that's it. I'll take it from there."
Actually, Levy would take it.
Slowly she calmed herself. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and spoke in a tiny voice.
"I have no idea who her father is. I was raped."