This was serious. I had given Sorenson everything I knew, but it wouldn't do any good. This wasn't a problem the police could solve. It all lacked context for them. Guidry now had the painting, but I knew he wouldn't stop there. He still needed more pieces to the puzzle, and that was us. No, the best we could do would be to stay one step ahead of him.

What had I gotten us into?

Chapter 21

I called Sabrina and told her we needed to meet. She could hear the fear in my voice and wisely didn't ask me to explain it over the phone. On my way out, I stopped at Seymour's apartment. He answered the door—without a scowl for a change. Maybe I hadn't woken him up this time? Or maybe Mo told him the story of my adventures and he had developed a new respect for me? Somehow I doubted that. In fact, though, he knew everything that had gone on. When did Mo ever find the time to tell him these things? It was a mystery, for sure.

I only had a moment to talk, which was just fine with Seymour.

"Don't open the front door unless you know exactly who's out there," I said, anxious to get to Sabrina.

"Never do."

"Yeah, well, it's especially important now." I updated him on Russ's death. "Can you get a message to Mo?"

"I don't need to, but I will. She can take care of herself."

"I'm well aware of that," I said, "but these people mean business, and they have guns."

"I remember. The house still has bullet holes from your last encounter. Do they know where your mother lives?"

Shit! My mother. Of course they did. They followed me there that first night.

"I'll call her on my way to the hotel," I said. "Thanks, Seymour."

"You carrying?"

"Carrying what?"

"Carrying. You know. Your gun? You do have a license to carry, remember?"

"Right." Not counting my initial meeting with Sabrina and my trip to my father's house, I had never actually carried a concealed weapon. Even going to the range, I transported it in in a case. "I feel kind of awkward doing it. You know, like I'm doing something wrong."

"Sometimes you're a real idiot," he said. "You got the license to be able to carry it for protection. You don't think this qualifies?"

"I guess it does. I'll go get it."

"Smart boy. Don't forget to load it."

I went back up to my apartment and retrieved my gun. I was kind of wishing I had bought something smaller for concealment purposes. I spent ten minutes trying to find the best spot to put it so that it wasn't digging into me, or if it accidently went off, it wouldn't blow off some vital part of my anatomy. I finally decided it was the least uncomfortable in my pants in the small of my back—the same place I put it when I first met Sabrina. Luckily, the chilly weather required a jacket, so the spot would be covered. How did they make it look so easy in the movies?