Free Covenant by Brandon Massey Page A

through, Lisa.  I don’t know what else to tell you.”    
                “Maybe we should call the cops.”
                “No way.  No cops.  Until we know who’s behind this, we should keep it secret, like Bob said.  As far as we know, the cops have something to do with it.”
                “Now you’re sounding paranoid.”
                “Am I?  Sorry, but I can’t forget how quick the cops were to label my father’s murder a hunting accident and close the case.”
                “I don’t know.”  She ran her fingers through her hair.  “I’ve never been one for conspiracy theories, secret cabals controlling the world, that sort of thing.”
                “And I’ve never been one for trusting the system.”
                She sighed with exasperation.  “All right, you win—on one condition.”
                “Which is?”
                “If this guy says anything, no matter how subtly worded, about a payoff—“
                “Then I’ll break his face,” Anthony said.
                “I was thinking that we involve the police and nail him for extortion.”
                “After I break his face.”
                “Sure, break his face, fine.  Do we have a deal?”
                “Deal.”
                She pushed away from the table, grabbed the bottle of cognac, and screwed the cap on. 
                “Where are you going with that?” he asked. 
                “If you’re determined to meet this Bob character tonight, you’ll need to have a clear head.  You need to be in a state of mind to ask him some pointed questions.”
                “I suppose you’re going to help me brainstorm some of these pointed questions.”
                “You know me well.”  She stored the bottle on the kitchen counter. “Grab a pen and a pad, Tony, and let’s hash this out together.”
     

9
     
                A gigantic drive-in that had been a city landmark for decades, The Varsity was located on North Avenue, across the way from Georgia Tech and in the shadow of Atlanta’s skyscrapers.  Their distinctive red neon sign, a giant “V,” blazed in the summer night, summoning drivers roaring along nearby Interstate 75/85, the Downtown Connector.
                Anthony parked on the top level of the two-tiered parking deck.  As Bob had likely counted on, the restaurant was jumping with customers who pulled up to the drive-in bays, and others who headed inside the building to grab their Friday night grub.  For one worried about being conspicuous, there was anonymity in numbers.
                A platoon of security guards patrolled the parking lot, maintaining order and ensuring that no vehicles remained parked beyond the allotted one-hour limit.  Exceed an hour, the posted signs warned, and you would return to find a boot attached to your wheel.
                He read his watch.  A quarter to ten.  He waited behind the wheel, drawing deep breaths, as if he could exhale away the heavy emotions that weighed on his heart. 
                His dad had used to bring him, Danielle, and Mom to The Varsity after they attended football and basketball games at Georgia Tech, his dad’s alma mater.  Eating chili dogs, burgers, and fries amid the raucous crowd, talking to each other about whatever game they had just watched, people-watching, laughing and joking among themselves . . . those were some of his most vivid, cherished memories of his family before the walls had caved in on their lives.
                He hadn’t visited the restaurant in fifteen years, but would feel a stab of anguish every time he drove past, a knife twisting in an open wound.  Consequently, he tried to avoid driving past.
                He should have