He smiles.
That is his second.
I cut Widowmaker’s engine and get off slowly.
He looks past me like he’s waiting for someone. I look too, for Oaks or Wildcat. They’re not here yet.
Good.
“Derby,” Jeremy says, like we are men who have been introduced at a charity golf event. “I wondered how long it would take.”
“You sent a threat to a five-year-old.”
His smile tightens. “I sent my son a gift.”
“He’s scared of you.”
“I sent a dinosaur. If Amelia is frightened by kindness, that is part of the concern I came here to address.”
There it is. The court voice. The polished, reasonable bastard in his natural habitat.
I step closer. He doesn’t back up. He wants witnesses. Cameras. Bruises. Proof.
Some part of me knows that. Some part of me hears Amelia saying if I go to jail, he wins. Some part of me sees August’s face anyway.
How did he know I was here?
“You like scaring kids?” I ask.
“I like reminding my son he has a father.”
“You ain’t a father. A real one doesn’t beat his wife.”
His eyes go flat. “And you’re a criminal pretending my wife chose you.”
I smile.
Slow.
Ugly.
“She did choose me.”
That gets him.
Not a lot.
Enough.
The mask slips, and the thing underneath looks out.
“My wife is confused.”
“Your wife is free.”
“She isn’t your wife.”
“No,” I say. “She’s not.”