“Sounds like the CIA to me.”
Harper shrugged.
Cain leaned forward. “This is what we do. We track people. We find them. We solve issues like this.”
“It’s the solving that could be problematic,” Cassie said.
“Nothing that’ll blow back on you,” Cain said.
Cassie gave a half-smile. “I will say that confidence isn’t one of your shortcomings.”
“We’ve done this in environments much more hostile than Tanner’s Crossroads.”
“Against guys much more skilled and better trained than a handful of drug dealers,” Harper added.
“But aren’t the amateurs the ones who always screw things up?” Cassie asked.
“That’s true,” Harper said. “That’s why missions have to be fluid and adaptable.”
“Let me ask you something,” Cain said. “You didn’t find a second phone on Tommy, did you?”
“No, just the one he had in his pocket. An iPhone.”
“The one we know about,” Harper said. “But we suspect he had a second one. A burner most likely.”
“And you’re thinking the killers took it?” Cassie said.
Harper nodded. “It would be a connection to them, and they’d of course know about it, so….”
Cassie sighed again. “I’m thinking these guys are pretty clever.”
“They are,” Cain said. “Let’s hope they think they’re smarter than they are.”
Cassie forked the fingers of one hand through her short-cropped, blonde hair. “So, what’s your next move?”
“Jason Epps might be the key to finding these guys,” Cain said.
“We’ve got a track on him,” Harper said.
“How so?”
“We’re in his phone.”
“That makes no sense.”
Harper smiled. “We hacked it with a text. Over in the park. In the, what…twenty minutes it took to get from there to here, we found out what I told you about his phone. Tommy’s, too.”
“Your mysterious source?” Cassie asked.
Harper nodded.
“Okay, but if his phone is clean and has no odd communications, how does that help?”
“The Memphis boys came here to deliver a message,” Harper said. “They did. But they also severed their distribution line over here. They’ll want to reestablish it. Money is money. That puts Jason in the middle of it.”
“You think they’ll contact him?”
“Probably.”
Cassie leaned forward. “They might just kill him.”
“They might.” Cain nodded. “Unless the money here is good. Then they’d want to keep it going.”
Using an index finger, Cassie gave the pen a couple of spins. “The heat this has generated might make them shy.”
“It might,” Harper said.
“Sounds like I need to have a sit down with young Jason Epps,” Cassie said.
“Any pressure on him would be good. Make him nervous. Make him do something stupid.”
“If I can find him.”
Cain smiled and pulled out his cell. He punched in a number and placed it on speaker. It was answered after two rings.
“Yeah.”
“Jason. Bobby Cain here. Chief Crowe wants to see you.”
“Yeah, right. Like I’m going to put up with her BS.”
“BS?” Cassie said.
Silence.
“Yeah, we’re in her office,” Cain said. “Now get moving.”
“I’m busy. Got things to do.”
“It wasn’t a request,” Harper said. More silence. “Don’t make us drag your sorry ass over here.”
“You can’t do that. I have rights.”
“Actually, you don’t,” Harper said. “Not in our world.”
“Chief?” Jason said. “They can’t do this.”
“Twenty minutes,” Cassie said. “That should give you enough time.”
Cain disconnected the call.
“That broke about a dozen laws,” Cassie said.
Cain shrugged.
“But it sure felt good.” Cassie smiled. “You guys want to hang around for the show?”
“Should be fun,” Harper said.
“Good. I want to make him squirm.”
CHAPTER 36
The drizzly rain intensified. Water dripped from the bill of Dalton’s cap as he walked around the SUV to the driver’s side. He slammed a fist against the roof.
“Goddammit.”
This was becoming a true clusterfuck. A witness. Now the cops were looking for him and the SUV. Time to get undercover before another clueless citizen saw him. He scanned the road, forward and back. All clear. He yanked open the door but before he could step in, he heard the unmistakable rumble of a car engine and the whine of tires on wet pavement, coming up the hill toward him. A black sedan rounded the corner. He tilted his head downward, shielding his face with the cap’s bill.
The car slowed.
Keep going, he thought.
It didn’t. The vehicle pulled across the road and stopped twenty feet from where he stood. The door creaked open and a man stepped out, rounding the front of the car.
A cop.
Fuck me.
“How you doing?” the man said.
“Fine.”
He noticed the officer’s hand rested on the service revolver on his right hip. Dalton felt the weight of his own weapon tucked into the small of his back.
“I’m Officer Duckworth. And you?”
“Sammy. Sammy Foster.”
“Where you headed?”
“Looking for a friend’s place. Got a little lost.”
The officer nodded. “Easy to do up here.” He took a few steps but stopped fifteen feet away. A cop move. Never get too close.
“Is there a problem, Officer?” Dalton asked.
“Don’t know. Is there?”
“Not that I see.”
“Good, good. Mind if I see your license?”
“What for?” Dalton asked.
“We’re looking for a car. One like yours.”
“Mine? Really? Why?”
“Just something we’re investigating.” He nodded again. “Your license?”
“It’s in my vehicle.”
“Why don’t you get it for me? I’ll run your plates in the meantime.” He turned toward his cruiser.
“You don’t need to do that.”
The cop stopped, turned back. “It’s just routine.” He gave a quick nod.
“I don’t think so.” Dalton withdrew his Glock and shot the man in the right side of his forehead. The cop dropped like a stringless marionette.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Dalton scanned the road again. Up and down. Quiet.
He dragged the dead man off the road and dumped him in the backseat of his sedan. He searched his pockets, found what he was looking for. His cell phone. He dropped it on the gravel and crushed it with his boot. He picked up the fractured device and tossed it into the backseat, where Duckworth lay. He climbed behind the wheel, spun it around and drove it to the edge of the gravel where the grassy strip sloped downwards, only the deep valley beyond.
Cop cars have radios, GPS, all kinds of tracking crap. Probably even in this Podunk town. Dalton lifted the hood and disconnected the battery. That should take care of that.
He reached through the
