Page 100 of Sangre
Chapter Twenty-Two
“The new uniformshave come in,” Eagle said, carrying a big box. “Where do you want me to put them?”
Sangre went over to the corner of the room and picked up the box his mother had given him. “You can put it here.”
Eagle but the container down. “What do you have in there?”
“Some old shit my mom gave me. I don’t even know what it is.” Sangre took the lid off and shook his head. “It’s just a bunch of old yearbooks and junk from when I was in high school.”
“Oh yeah?” Eagle came over and picked up one of the yearbooks. “I wanna see what a nerd you were in high school.” He laughed.
Sangre grabbed the book from him. “I haven’t looked at this in years.” He thumbed through the pages and found Isla’s class picture. The sixteen-year-old’s bright eyes and small smile stared at him. He brushed his thumb over her photo, memories flooding his mind.
“From the look on your face, I figure you’re looking at Isla.” Eagle came next to him. “Damn. She was even hot in high school.”
She was all I thought about back then… and now. Isla.“She was in all the musicals. I’m pretty sure there are some pictures of her in those productions.” As he flipped the pages, people he hadn’t seen or thought about in years rushed past him. His eyes landed on several photographs of Isla in different costumes for different musicals. “I saw every one of these pansy ass plays.” He chuckled.
“Grease?Cats? You must’ve really had it bad for her back then, dude.” Eagle smacked him on the shoulder.
I did. But I’ve got it worse now.Sangre stared at the picture: it was like he’d been transported to the past. He was just ready to flip to another page when someone in the background caught his eye. “What the fuck?” he muttered.
“What’s wrong?” Eagle asked.
“This kid looks familiar,” he said, tapping his finger on the face.
“He should. You went to the same damn high school.” Eagle moved away.
“No. Like I’ve seen him now. You know all grown up, but I don’t know where.” His chest tightened as he put the yearbook down and started rummaging through the things in the box. “Here it is,” he said out loud, taking out the program forGrease. He scanned the names, and his eyes fell on the nameJustin Colt Varner, Crew. He jerked his head back. “Fuck.” He picked up the yearbook again and went through all the pictures in Isla’s class. He saw Madison Cartwright, Sharla Davidson, Lizbeth Kelly, Carrie Nolan, Taylor Prentice, Lexi Strobe, and Justin Colt Varner. “He’s her neighbor. He told her he wasn’t from Alina. He’s the fucker.” Sangre threw the book down and grabbed his phone.
“What’s going on, dude?”
“Isla’s neighbor lied to her. Said he was from Omaha. Why the fuck would he do that unless he’s the sonofabitch who’s been sending her the letters.” Sangre rubbed the back of his neck. “Pick up, Isla,” he said under his breath.
“Let’s bring the asshole in for questioning,” Eagle said, his hands clenching.
“My thoughts exactly, bro.” He tapped in Mark’s number. “Did Isla go out?”
“No. She’s still inside. Something wrong?”
“She’s not picking up.”
“The neighbor from next door is with her. Maybe that’s why.”
White, icy cold fire flowed through his veins and he picked up the yearbook and hauled it across the room. “Is it that bastard with the girls selling Isla’s lemonade?”
“Yeah. Their dad. What’s going on? Did I fuck up?”
“No. I did. Shit!” He pounded his fist on the desk. “Isla’s in danger. Do you have a gun on you?”
“No. Do you want me to call the cops?”
“No fuckin’ badges. I’m on my way. Get inside that house, but be careful. The fucker carries a knife and is dangerous. Go now.” Before Mark could answer, Sangre had the phone in his pocket as he raced out of the building, Eagle at his heels.
“I called the brothers. They’re on their way,” Eagle said. He grasped Sangre’s arm. “We’ll get to her in time.”
Tension choked his nerves. “We fucking have to.”
The motorcycles sped out of the parking lot.
