Free Donovan Creed 11 - Because We Can! by John Locke

late. Thanks, Jill.”
    “My married name is DiPiese. I’m Bobby’s wife.”
    “Holy shit!”
    Jill smiles. “Thought you might like that.”
    Frank doesn’t. His eyes have gone huge.
    Creed says, “The folks at Willow Lake will be surprised. They thought Jack was your fiancée.”
    “That was our cover story, so I could stay at his place.”
    “What do I owe you for the information?”
    “I want you to kill Bobby.”
    “When?”
    She laughs. “I love that. You said when, not why. We’re going to get along swimmingly, Donovan. Not that it matters, but are you good-looking?”
    “Yeah, but not by choice. My face has been reconstructed.”
    “You don’t strike me as a vain man.”
    “I won’t strike you at all, if you behave.”
    “How good do I have to be?”
    “Don’t flirt. I’m spoken for.”
    “Pity.”
    “I’m still 30 minutes out, but I’ve called a sketch artist who should be there in a few minutes. I’d like you to start without me. That way we can get the terrorist’s face in front of the public within the hour.”
    “That’s not going to happen. Frank and I will be gone by then.”
    Creed pauses a moment, then says. “You really must be good in bed! I’m impressed. On the other hand, I’m deeply disappointed in Frank. Have a safe trip, Jill.”
    “I must say, you’re being an awfully good sport about this.”
    “I’m a realist. I’m only sorry you’ll miss the reunion.”
    “Which reunion is that?”
    “I found Jack Tallow. I thought you might want to see him.”
    Jill closes her eyes. “If you found him this quickly he’s obviously dead.”
    “Actually, he’s alive and in deep shit with the Baton Rouge police department.”
    “You’ve clearly found the wrong Jack Tallow.”
    “You think? Let’s review. The Jack Tallow I’ve found has no vocal cords and is sporting savage, near-fatal hog bites.”
    “Thank God!” she says.
    “You’re happy about the hog bites?”
    “Yes, of course. It means he escaped. He said he would, and he did. Why’s he in trouble with the cops?”
    “I’ll tell you when I get there.”

9.
    Donovan Creed.
    WHEN WE LAND in Memphis I kiss Callie goodbye and keep Joe with me, so he can blow up Bobby Dee’s house in La Pierre, Louisiana, later tonight.
    Before catching a cab I find a quiet spot and call Dr. Box’s cell phone.
    No answer.
    I call his apartment.
    Bingo.
    A young woman with a thick southern drawl says “Hi there! Who’s callin’?”
    I can actually feel the smile in her voice. If I weren’t so pissed at Dr. Box, I’d smile back. “I’m Donovan Creed.”
    “Well, hey there, Mr. Creed, I’m Trudy Lake. Pleased to meet you!”
    It’s only a few words, but it takes her a long time to say them. I don’t mind. I love southern girls and the way they talk. Used to love them, I mean.
    “Trudy Lake?”
    “Yes, sir?”
    “I’m going to take a wild guess you’re not from New York City.”
    “Oh, Lord, no,” she says. “And if I knew the ball team here was called Yankees, I probably would’ve said no to livin’ here.”
    I laugh. “Where are you from?”
    “You know Ralston, Kentucky?”
    “Nope.”
    “Dead Horse Holler?”
    “Nope.”
    “Tate’s Crick?”
    “Are you from any of those places?”
    “No sir. I was just tryin’ to zero you in. Let’s just say I’m a western Kentucky girl, and leave it at that.”
    “That’ll work. Are you the housekeeper?”
    “I’m the girlfriend.”
    “Dr. Box has a girlfriend ? Or do I have the wrong number?”
    “Hard to believe, but yeah, he’s got a girlfriend. And I’m her.”
    “Is he there?”
    “He sure is. Would you like to speak to him?”
    “Not really. Not after talking to you. But I need to.”
    “Hold on, I’ll get him.”
    When Box gets on the phone he says, “I thought it went well with Kathleen last night, didn’t you?”
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    “I just started a relationship with Callie. I thought you knew that.”
    “I did. But