The place had filled as Max ate, and Reed now hustled to keep up with the orders. Nothing in his demeanor hinted at a man burdened by murder or kidnapping. Max knew better than to judge a man by his appearance, but to be that evil and yet that calm suggested a level of sociopathy reserved for serial killers and politicians. If Lyle was right about Reed, the man had orchestrated Sandy’s death, kidnapped Pip, and still poured drinks with a steady hand.

But then Max thought about Mikhail. How was Max any different? Where were the ripples in Max’s surface to tell the world what he had done?

Max checked his burner phone again—still no message. Suddenly, he saw Reed frown, put down the drink he had been pouring, and pull his cell phone from his jacket pocket. Reed walked to the end of the bar, turned his back to his customers, and leaned into the call. With his beer in his hand, Max stood and walked a few steps closer to get a better look. Reed held the phone tightly to his ear and gave a short glance over his shoulder. He looked angry.

Something seemed out of place. It wasn’t just the swift change in Reed’s demeanor, but something else, something he couldn’t put a finger on.

Max downed his beer so he could go to the bar for another, getting closer to Reed. His third of the day, the alcohol tingled pleasantly up against his better judgment, and he shook his head to stay focused.

Reed straightened up and put the phone into the breast pocket of his denim jacket, buttoning the pocket shut—and that’s when Max knew.

CHAPTER 27

The phone that buzzed in Reed’s jacket pocket was for emergencies only. He had even listed for Spud what might constitute an emergency: an injury to Pip, someone showing up at the shack. The last time that phone had buzzed Spud had just killed Sandy and had texted Reed to say that they were on the road. No problems.

Worried, Reed moved to a part of the bar where there were no customers. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” Spud said.

Reed almost hung up, but said, “If everything’s fine, then why the hell are you calling me?”

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m on my way to St. Paul. The papers are ready to sign.”

“What?” Reed kept his voice as quiet as he could. “Are you out of your fucking mind? You can’t leave now. You have to stay with Pip. That’s the plan, and we don’t fuck with the plan, remember?”

“I gotta sign this stuff sooner or later. It’s ready now, so I’m going—”

“We’ll talk about this when I get home—not now.”

“I’m not there. I’m on the road.”

“You left Pip alone?”

“He’s asleep; he’ll stay asleep until you get home. He won’t even know I’m gone until morning.”

“You’re gonna fuck things up.”

“I’ve worked it all out. You got tomorrow off, and I’ll be back before you have to work again. The timing’s perfect.”