Did You Miss Me? Read Free Page B

original plan. ‘Hello, George.’
    George spun around, relief filling his eyes, followed by fury. ‘ Doug . Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here for an hour. I’m going to be late .’
    Using one’s real name when selling illegal weapons would have been downright foolish, so Mitch had introduced himself to the Millhouses as ‘Doug’ months ago. It had become something of a nickname during the years he spent in prison, so every time he heard one of the Millhouses call his name it rekindled his anger, reminding him that there was someone he hated even more than Daphne Montgomery.
    Not that Mitch needed any reminders. He wore his anger like a second skin, his revenge a painful thirst that he could never satisfy. Until now. Everything was finally coming together and furious George here was an important piece of the plan.
    Mitch kept his voice mild. ‘What you’re going to be is arrested if you don’t calm down. You look like you did the murder, George.’
    George’s eyes narrowed. ‘If you didn’t bring my package, I just might.’
    Were I not armed, I’d be nervous . George was a big sonofabitch, yet still smaller than his brother Reggie, who was a fucking King Kong. The jury had seen Reggie that way, too. Which was why George was so anxious to get this delivery.
    ‘Tsk, tsk, tsk. George, how many times do I have to tell you to hold your temper?’
    George ground his teeth. ‘Did you bring the knife?’
    ‘Of course I did.’ With a few modifications. ‘Did you bring the brace?’
    George held out a plastic grocery bag. ‘Yeah. I did.’
    Mitch frowned. ‘Have you been wearing it?’
    ‘ Yes . Every goddamn day of this trial. Now hurry . I need to get to the courtroom.’
    Mitch took the wrist brace from the bag and winced. Yep, George had been wearing it all right. Every day. During which he’d never washed his arm. The brace was ripe.
    ‘Do me a favor, will you, and slip the plastic plate out of the brace. The one that supports your wrist.’ George obeyed, carelessly leaving his prints all over the plastic. Like taking candy from a baby , Mitch thought as he produced an identical-looking plate from his pocket. Unlike George, he wore gloves, ensuring the only prints the cops would find would be George’s. ‘This is your knife.’
    George’s face darkened. ‘ That? That piece of shit plastic? That’s what you’ve been promising us?’
    ‘Watch. This plate slides apart – it’s two layers.’ He took the pieces apart, but George was not impressed. Idiot . This was top-of-the-line polymer construction.
    ‘It’s plastic,’ George said flatly.
    ‘But it’s no piece of shit. The edges of the bottom layer have been sharpened to a fine edge. It will easily slice skin and muscle.’ Which it had done the night before. Stupid cop . Sneaking up on me . ‘If you use enough pressure, it’ll cut through bone. Connect the pieces like this.’ Mitch snapped them together. ‘This other piece isn’t sharp. Therefore it is the handle.’ He said it like he might to a kindergartner.
    Giving him a dirty look, George crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Prove it.’
    I should prove it on you . But that wouldn’t suit his goal. Mitch looked around the alley, spied a bicycle tire. He picked it up and tossed it to George, who dropped the original dull fingerprint-riddled plastic brace so that he could catch it.
    ‘ What the fuck? ’ George exploded. ‘I gotta go to court. I might be on TV and you almost messed up my suit.’
    ‘If you hold the tire, you’ll know how much pressure I’m using to cut it.’ The knife easily sliced through the tire and George’s irate disbelief became greedy delight.
    ‘Give it to me.’ George opened his backpack. ‘Small bills, just like you asked for.’
    ‘Very good.’ Just to mess with him, Mitch began to count the cash.
    George growled. ‘If I miss the verdict, I promise you will be a very unhappy man.’
    ‘I don’t want to be unhappy.’ Mitch