The two imbeciles he employed as his right-hand men stood near the door, heads bowed. He doubted they were staring at their shoes as a sign of respect. Probably more out of shame. Fucking failures. “I need you to find this woman.” He held out a recent photo of Alyssa Franklin.Everyone knew she was missing. It wasn’t new information to Alfred and Judas, but it couldn’t hurt to give them a photo.“Do we know where she went, sir?” Judas looked up after staring at the picture. He held his hat in one hand and gripped the photo with the other, nearly wrinkling it with his trembling fingers.“No, but I have a license plate number of the men she left the truck stop with.” Fredrick held the scrap of paper in the air, a slip of a receipt with numbers scribbled on the back. Thank God that kid Leslie had thought to write the digits. As he stared at the two grown men, Fredrick wondered who had more sense: the kid or his hired help.Alfred stepped forward to take the paper with a smile.
