Chapter 2 - The Name Vincent Never Expected to Hear
I woke in a hospital room three hours later.
Angela sat beside the bed.
Vincent stood near the window.
“You're still here?” I whispered.
Angela immediately stood.
“Oh, thank God.”
She squeezed my hand.
“How do you feel?”
“Like a truck hit me.”
Vincent turned.
“The doctor says you have a concussion.”
I touched the bandage near my temple.
“Derek?”
“He won't bother you.”
Something about Vincent's tone made me stop asking.
Then I remembered.
“Raymond.”
Vincent's expression changed again.
I noticed it this time.
“You know him.”
He didn't answer immediately.
“Raymond Fletcher?”
My stomach tightened.
“Yes.”
“Albany?”
I stared at him.
“How do you know that?”
Vincent pulled a chair closer but didn't sit.
“Tell me what he is to you.”
“No.”
Angela blinked.
“Emma—”
“No.”
I looked directly at Vincent.
“You answer first.”
For the first time, I saw something almost resembling approval in his eyes.
He sat.
“Fair enough.”
Then he said something I never expected.
“Raymond Fletcher worked for me.”
The room seemed smaller.
“What?”
“Years ago.”
“What kind of work?”
Vincent gave me a look.
I understood.
Not legal work.
I swallowed.
“He told me he was in construction.”
“He lied.”
“That wasn't unusual.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“How long were you with him?”
“Three years.”
“And why did you leave?”
I stared at my hands.
Angela looked toward Vincent.
“Maybe this isn't the time.”
“It is,” I said.
I looked up.
“Because he hurt me.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“How badly?”
“Bad enough that I learned to sleep with shoes beside the bed in case I had to run.”
Neither of them spoke.
“One night, I finally did.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“Why Brooklyn?”
“I changed everything. Job. Phone. Hair. I stopped talking to people we knew.”
Vincent stood.
“Did he find you?”
“I don't think so.”
Vincent pulled out his phone.
“You think I'm wrong.”
“I think Raymond Fletcher doesn't stop looking for things he believes belong to him.”
My blood went cold.
“I don't belong to him.”
“I know.”
The certainty in Vincent's voice surprised me.
He made a call.
“Paul.”
Pause.
“Find Fletcher.”
Another pause.
“No contact. Just find him.”
I sat upright.
“No.”
Vincent looked at me.
“You're not going after him.”
“I'm making sure he isn't coming after you.”
“I don't want anyone hurt because of me.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then leave it alone.”
Vincent slipped his phone into his pocket.
“I left Raymond Fletcher alone once.”
There was something underneath those words.
“What happened?”
Vincent looked toward Angela.
She understood immediately.
“I'll get coffee.”
After she left, Vincent closed the door.
“Raymond started working around the waterfront twelve years ago. Collections. Security. Nothing important.”
“And?”
“He became violent.”
“With who?”
“People who couldn't fight back.”
My stomach turned.
Vincent continued.
“I warned him.”
“What did he do?”
“Promised it would stop.”
“It didn't.”
“No.”
Vincent looked away.
“I fired him.”
“You fired him?”
“And told him never to use my name again.”
I laughed bitterly.
“He used it constantly.”
Vincent turned back.
“What?”
“Whenever he wanted to scare somebody.”
That anger returned to Vincent's face.
“He said Vincent Calder trusted him. Said nobody touched him because he was protected.”
“He wasn't.”
“Well, he believed he was.”
Vincent was silent.
Then someone knocked.
Paul entered.
He didn't look happy.
“We found Fletcher.”
Vincent stood.
“Where?”
“Brooklyn.”
My heartbeat jumped.
Paul looked directly at me.
“He arrived three days ago.”
I gripped the blanket.
“Why?”
Paul hesitated.
Vincent noticed.
“Say it.”
Paul pulled out his phone.
May you like
“He's been asking about a woman named Emma Reed.”
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