“Don’t move,” I commanded.
It was the voice I had used on the drill deck at Parris Island.
It wasn’t a shout.
It was a cold, absolute promise of violence if my instructions were not followed.
Dex took a hesitant step backward, holding his hands up slightly.
While keeping Marcus pinned with my right hand, I used my left hand to reach down and grab the bottom zipper of my faded green jacket.
I pulled it up, throwing the sides of the jacket open.
Underneath, I was wearing my faded olive-drab United States Marine Corps veteran t-shirt.
I reached into my back pocket, pulled out my weathered leather wallet, and tossed it onto the metal table right next to Marcus’s cheek.
It fell open, displaying my retired military identification card, my rank clearly printed beneath my photo.
“You boys made a very serious miscalculation today,” I said quietly, ensuring every word carried across the patio.
Marcus groaned in pain against the metal table, struggling slightly.
I applied a fraction more pressure to his shoulder, and he immediately stopped moving.
I reached into his leather vest and pulled out the thick blue envelope.
I tore the flap open with my teeth and pulled out the single sheet of folded paper inside.
I kept my eyes on Dex and Cody as I read the handwritten letter.
It wasn’t from Sarah.
The handwriting on the envelope was a forgery, traced carefully to look like hers.
The letter inside was written by David.
It was an instruction manual for these three thugs.
Marcus, the old man comes to Miller's Diner every Tuesday. He’s weak, he’s isolated, and he doesn’t have any friends. Intimidate him. Hurt him if you have to. Force him to sign the enclosed transfer deed for his property. Once the property is ours, I’ll clear the fifty grand I owe your boss. Sarah thinks she’s safely hidden away in Seattle, so she won't interfere. Get it done.
A massive wave of relief and furious anger washed over me simultaneously.
Sarah hadn’t sent them.
Sarah hadn’t betrayed me.
She was hiding from David in Seattle, completely unaware that her husband was trying to steal her childhood home to pay off his criminal debts.
David had stolen her handmade ring and used her forged handwriting to set me up.
Everything I had believed about my daughter abandoning me out of spite was wrong.
She was a victim, running from a monster I had failed to protect her from.
“She doesn’t know anything about this, does she?” I asked Marcus, my voice trembling slightly with suppressed rage.
“He said you wouldn’t fight back!” Marcus wheezed against the metal table, spit flying from his lips. “He said you were just a pathetic old man!”
I was about to demand the exact location of David when the situation suddenly spiraled completely out of control.
Cody, the young, twitchy biker, panicked.
He saw his leader humiliated.
He saw the plan falling apart.
He saw the truck drivers inside the diner picking up their cell phones.
With a frantic, terrified yell, Cody reached under his denim shirt and pulled out a black 9mm pistol.