I swept my gaze across the room and let three words drop like ice:
"Ten minutes."
"Ten minutes for what?" Alberta demanded.
I ignored her and turned to Chester.
Chester glanced at his phone, then gave me a slight bow.
"Mr. Finch, I've notified the owner. He says he'll be here in ten minutes with Mr. Pruitt to personally apologize."
"Oh, and he mentioned he's willing to offer that hundred-acre parcel on the city outskirts—in exchange for Ms. Fox's life."
Dead silence.
Then the room exploded into laughter.
"Is this loser so broke he's gone delusional? He actually thinks Alberta's husband is coming to apologize to him—and throw in some land? Who believes this crap?"
"Oh, I believe it! The man's clearly on death's door. Might as well humor him, right?"
"I heard some rich kid messed with Alberta once, and Mr. Pruitt had his hands and feet broken before dumping him outside Harbor City. Wonder how many pieces our delivery boy here will have left after tonight!"
Soaking in the flattery, Alberta's arrogance reached new heights.
"Mike, I strongly suggest you do what I said—quickly. Because once my husband finds out about this little stunt? You're finished."