“Where did the text come from?”
Joe hesitated. He needed to know what the rumor was. “Supposedly Aspen.”
“Colorado?”
“Yup. That’s what . . . the caller . . . claimed.”
Alarm bells went off in his head. He almost said
“Male or female?”
“Whoever sent the text.”
“Christ,” Coon said. “I’m disappointed, Joe. I gave you a lot. You haven’t given me anything I didn’t know already.”
“That’s true,” Joe said, his mind spinning, trying to figure out what to give without endangering April. But if she was somehow mixed up with this Stenko and these Talich Brothers? Maybe the best thing to do was to spill everything, let the FBI do what the FBI did best?
It didn’t feel right yet. He said, “Okay, but understand that this is speculation at this point, but it’s all I’ve got.”
“Go ahead.”
“You should check out murders that were committed in the last two weeks. I don’t have the exact dates in front of me, but all involve small-caliber handguns—probably the same weapon. As far as I can tell, no suspects have been arrested, suggesting the murders are random and not personal. The first was in Chicago, then Madison, then Keystone, South Dakota . . .”
“Hold it, slow down . . .” Coon said, obviously writing down the locations.
“. . . and Aspen, Colorado. Two days ago.”
“Jesus.”
“I said it was speculation, and I mean it,” Joe said. “Those are locations given in the text messages. There could be more, or it all could be hooey.”
Coon hesitated. “We need to put a device on your daughter’s phone.”
“No.”
“Damn it, Joe.”
“I told you the rules. And I already gave you the number to track. You have that number, don’t you?”
“Yes. We can get an operation up and running tomorrow.”
“Good.”
“Will you let us look at the text messages?”
“Nope.”
He knew he was risking the chance that the FBI would pinpoint the location of April’s phone and close in on her without notifying him. But he doubted they’d be able to find her on their own, without his help. For one thing, they didn’t know it was April. They also didn’t know what kind of vehicle she was in or how many others she was with. The feds didn’t have the manpower to flood a ten-to-fifteen-mile radius in the hope of running into Stenko, especially if he was on the move. It was a risk giving up the number, but one he was willing to take.
“You’ll notify me if your daughter gets another text,” Coon said. Not a question but a statement.
“I will,” Joe said, “but only if you’ll give me the location of the call if you’re able to track it down.”
“Deal,” Coon said.
“I gave you something to run with,” Joe said. “Now what was the rumor you referred to earlier?”
“It’s just a rumor.”
“I understand that.”
Silence. Joe figured he could wait him out.
Finally, Coon sighed. “There is an unconfirmed report of a man matching Stenko’s description coming out of a brothel in Chicago two weeks ago. Later, the brothel manager or whatever he’s called was found murdered upstairs. No witnesses to the killing.”
“Small-caliber weapon?” Joe asked.
“Yes.” He said it with the same bolt of realization Joe was experiencing—the two stories coming together.
“Anyone with him? With Stenko?”
“This is unconfirmed.”
“Calm down, Joe.” Then: “He was supposedly with an unidentified female minor. Mid-teens or slightly older. Blond, five foot four, possibly one of the prostitutes.”
Joe slunk against the door of the cab, his cheek on the window of the driver’s side.
“Joe?”
