The Mafia Kidnapped Me

(35) Call The Cops.

Pamela stared open-mouthed at the blank piece of paper that bore the King's Pharmaceutical letter-headed logo. She didn't know what to think or say or do, for that matter; all she could do at that moment was to stare in shock.

"How is this possible?" she said more to herself than to anyone else.

"He tricked us," said Peter.

"No, he tricked me." She whispered and looked up at Peter and her eyes filled with tears. She had never felt more disappointed in her life. "He tricked me."

Peter whipped his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. She collected it but didn't wipe her eyes or blow her nose with it. She wasn't heartbroken enough not to notice a dirty handkerchief when she saw one. She was sure if she put it on her nose it would smell like the unwashed armpit of George of the Jungle.

"What are we going to do?" Peter's voice was as heartbroken as hers.

"I don't know," she said honestly.

"I would have suggested we call the cops but -"

"You can't call the cops!" Pamela interrupted vehemently. "What if Devlin's not in danger and the cops arrive and arrest him? He is a felon, you know that."

Peter nodded. "I know, and yes, you're right, calling the cops is suicide. If only we knew the address."

"If only," Pamela muttered and sighed heavily. She picked up her coffee and dropped it down. It was cold already.

"Let me go get you another." Peter stood.

"With lots of creams, please. And sugar."

Peter tried to imitate Devlin by raising a brow but both brows shot up. "Why the sudden sweet tooth?"

"Helps me think."

He shrugged and turned to leave but stopped and turned back to face her.

"What?"

Peter's face was lit like he had discovered something that would stop the sun from setting. Pamela expected him to yell 'eureka' any moment from now.

"What?" She asked again.

He slowly sat. "We can find out the address."

"Bull's address?"

"Yes."

"How?" she sat forward.

"I helped Devlin question one of Bull's boys that were captured during the shoot-out that happened with you last month and he confessed the address."

It was incredible. "You've known the address ever since?"

"No, he wrote it down and gave it to Devlin."

"Oh." The mention of his name made her feel depressed.

"So, I think I can head back there to ask him to tell me the address - if he's not dead by now."

Pamela gasped. "Dead?"

Peter shrugged. "Devlin doesn't forgive easily. He gives everything freely, except forgiveness."

"I hope he's not dead." She put the blank paper back into the envelope, put it into her purse, and slung it over her arm. "Let's go."

"Woah, Woah, Woah." Peter held his two hands outwards, his palm face up at her as if he wanted to give her a double hi-five. "You're not coming with me."

"What? Why?"

"Because you would want to follow me to Bull's Domicile when we get the address."

"If we get the address and of course, I would want to follow you, it's my husband we're talking about here."