13. Dallas

CHAPTER 13

DALLAS

I brush past the jingle of the storefront bell, my eyes zeroing in on the shelves lined with prepaid phones before settling on a nondescript model I've used before. The clerk barely glances up as I wordlessly slide cash across the counter. The transaction is silent, swift—a dance he probably knows too well doing business in this part of town.

Outside, the harsh wind bites at my skin while I free the phone from its plastic prison, fingers mechanically inserting the SIM card with a soft click that seems louder than it actually is.

On the way to my car, I dial the number etched into my memory, the one I haven't dialed in months. The line trills and my heart thrums against my ribs.

"Sierra Emporium," a cheerful voice answers.

"Howdy," I try to match the happy mood. "Any chance I can speak to Delia Bradley if she's working today?" Though a little detached, my tone is convincing enough. After all, I lie for a living.

"May I ask who's calling?"

"My name's Frank. I did some housework for Ms. Bradley last summer. It's about reimbursement Ms. Bradley and I discussed a few weeks ago. I tried her cell with no luck. And I'm only in town today. Passing through," I continue to feed the sucker on the line with my tale. "Heading down south and really wanted to drop off that check for Ms. Bradley."

"Sure thing," the man replies. He completely bought my lie. "Hang on."

Moments later, when in the car, a familiar voice sounds on the line, a threadbare tapestry of warmth and worry. "Yes. This is Delia."

"Mom, it's me," I whisper. "Can you talk privately?"

"Oh… of course, sweetheart." Her voice is a whisper, a ghost of embrace I barely remember. There's a sound of footsteps and a door shutting. "Are you okay? You sound...rushed," she probs, the connection crackling.

"Fine, Mom. Just checking in. How are you?"

"One day at a time. You know how it is here. How are you?"

"Still on assignment."

"Is it okay for you to call like this?" My mother knows the basics of what I do. She never expects me to reach out while I'm undercover. But this case, this fucking mess, has my brain all screwed up. And I'm terrified that she'll see through my bullshit, even with the thousands of miles between us.

"It's a burner phone," I explain. "I'll be fine."

"Are you eating enough? Last time I saw you you were so skinny."

"Of course I am, Mom." I don't give her a chance to scold me further. I change the topic. "Why are you still working anyway? You should quit the job, you know. With what I sent and the house paid off, just enjoy life."

"Enjoy life?" Her chuckle is dry. "You mean stay home all day? And do what? Count the hours? I like the store, the people here. Did you talk to Savannah?"

"Not since before my previous assignment. It's been a while."

"Call her. She's your sister," my mother insists, a gentle command wrapped in concern.

"Her wild life doesn't need me crashing in," I counter, glancing at shadows creeping along the parking lot edges. My gaze sweeps up and lands on the billboard with the face of a man apparently running for city council. At least that's what the sign reads.

"Nonsense. She misses her big brother."

"I'll try when I have a chance."

"Okay, sweetheart."

"Mom. I gotta go."

We hang up, the click echoing almost like a gunshot in my ear. I dismantle the phone with swift precision, breaking the SIM card in half—another link severed, another trace erased. The pieces join the detritus of the city, indistinguishable from the rest.