The Partnership by Dustin Stevens

Author:Dustin Stevens [Stevens, Dustin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-01-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Four

The same sour expression that was on Reed’s face as he climbed from Deek’s basement was still in place as he pulled up to a stoplight in Hilliard, an unknown number flashing on the screen of his phone.

“Reed Mattox,” he said, smashing the phone to his ear as he stared up at the light, waiting for it to turn.

“Where are you right now?” a voice asked. It was male, vaguely familiar, but certainly not one that Reed recognized right off, the kind that could bypass a greeting of any sort.

“Who is this?” Reed snapped back, his eyes narrowing as the light changed to green and he idled through the intersection.

“Oh,” the voice replied. “This is Caleb Basel. We met earlier today.”

At mention of his name the voice clicked into place for Reed, the previous annoyance passing by as he shook his head quickly from side to side.

“Oh, yeah, right,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Depends, where are you?” Basel replied again.

“Hilliard, why?”

“Hilliard,” Basel repeated, his voice falling away for just a moment before coming back stronger. “There’s a diner not far from Davidson High School called Patty’s. You know the place?”

“Vaguely,” Reed replied. “Why?”

“Be there in half an hour. Bring cash.”

Just like that the conversation ended, the line going dead. It took a moment for Reed to realize what had happened, staring down at the phone in his hand, before sliding it back onto the middle console.

He hadn’t expected to hear from Basel, had previously thought it more likely the young man would bypass his warning and disappear. The fact he was calling so soon, and requesting a meeting, was curious to say the least, as were his choice of meeting locations and the directive to bring cash.

Feeling the same squeeze of his insides that was fast becoming omnipresent, Reed couldn’t help but think Basel probably wasn’t coming alone.

Hanging a left, Reed worked a series of one-way streets until he was aimed north, winding his way through the neighborhoods of Hilliard without going near the freeway. As he drove he called his folks to tell them he needed to take one more meeting on the night but wasn’t sure how long it would go, something unexpected having arisen. After sitting through a lengthy diatribe from his mother telling him to be careful, he recommended a good local pizza place and promised to call if things were going to be really late before signing off.

Fifteen minutes later he pulled up to a squat, square structure with glass windows lining three of four sides, harsh yellow light spilling out into the parking lot. A thin band of red ran along the bottom of each window, words proclaiming their various offerings cut out from the swaths of color.

Never before had Reed eaten at Patty’s, though judging by the exterior and the advertisements on the windows, he guessed it to be a basic burger joint, the kind of place that popped up near high schools or small college campuses, serving as a hangout for the local kids.

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