Colt
“What the hell are we doing here?” Colt asks Brock as they walk into the prison. “Didn’t get enough of this place when you were locked inside? Need to visit an old lover?”
Brock laughs and flips him the bird as they walk down the hallway towards the warden’s office. “Funny. Real funny.”
It’s been over a year now since they caught the De-Identifier. His real name is Gerard Buchanan, and he never made it to trial. Instead, he pleaded guilty, and he was given life without parole if he agreed to give the authorities the names of the unidentified victims. Which he just gave up the last unknown victim’s identity yesterday.
“The warden will see you now,” a chubby secretary says before scurrying away.
She’s cute, but Colt knows he’s only got a thing for blondes. Brock on the other hand, he likes them brunette. Like his wife, who just gave birth to their second daughter three months ago.
“A little skittish, considering where she works, don’t you think?” Brock says as they shut the door to Tony’s office.
The warden stands and holds a hand out to Colt. “Tony Matthews.”
“Colt Nichols.”
“Tony’s the one who helped get Beckett and me out of here,” Brock says. “Did me a favor, and I did him one.”
“Technically, you did me two favors,” Tony says.
Looking around, Colt sees next to nothing on the walls. He can’t understand how Tony doesn’t feel like a prisoner himself in this office all day.
“How’s the wife and step kids?” Brock asks.
He smirks. “They’re good. Esther, though, was a little pissed off that I had to stop giving her special favors when I started dating Mandy.”
“You don’t want to know,” Brock says to Colt. “Trust me. I still have nightmares.”
“No offense, Tony, but I’m not exactly a big fan of this place. Spent enough time here in the past, so can you tell us why you needed us to come down? I thought all Brock needed was to call in his last favor.”
“He did, but Gerard reached out to me. Told me something I think you both need to hear.”
“I still can’t get over his name being Gerard. I mean, it fits more than Chuck Norris, but fuck,” Brock says as they follow Tony out of his office to a conference room.
Stopping, Tony turns. “Chuck Norris?”
“One of the aliases he used,” he says with a laugh. “Because, you know, totally believable.”
“Now you sound like my wife,” Colt says. “Which is disturbing.”
“Hot blonde with curly hair and blue eyes?” Tony asks.
The tone creeps Colt out, and he immediately goes on the defensive. “How’d you know that?”
“I’m right? Or, I guess, Gerard was right?”
“Yeah,” Brock says, his eyes narrowed. “What’s going on? How does this asshole know about Lex?”
“Because there might be some merit to what he has to tell you. You left all weapons at your bikes, right?”
Colt’s heart races. This guy, who’s killed fourteen women, knows his wife?
He just nods and follows Brock into the room where Gerard sits with chains around his hands and ankles.
“Finally. I’ve been waiting for hours.”
“It’s either waiting here or laying on a slab in the county morgue,” Tony says. “You wanted to speak to the guys who ordered your death, so speak.”
