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Kneeling next to the man, he bent low to his ear.
“Why was Dr. Marks here?” he asked.
“O-owner. Owner.”
Turning, Miller went back toward his friends and waved them toward their car on the opposite side of the street.
“Marks is an owner, or at least part-owner, of Southeast. We need to find her before she gets to anyone else.”
Hearing what was happening with Miller, Baptiste, and Pork, Gaspar and the others decided to try and find their two puppy killers. They knew they weren’t smart, and they damn sure didn’t smell good, so they weren’t going to be in nice public places.
“Beer, cigarettes, and weed, brother,” said Ghost. They stood outside the convenience store, waiting for the manager to pull up the video feeds for them to review. “We need to find a place where that’s acceptable.”
“There are a shit-ton of bars in this area that would allow that,” said Gaspar. “We can cross off any that have a dress code, probably cross off any that are indoors. These guys would want an outdoor patio. Probably not in the city, closer to the rural areas.”
“I have the video up,” said the man. They walked back inside, and he took them to the small office at the back. “It’s not much. Pretty grainy. But it should give you a clear picture of someone coming and going.”
They watched the video feed at three times its normal speed, knowing that they would probably catch what they needed to see either way. Sure enough, it was there.
“Stop,” said Ian. “Right there. Getting out of a dark sedan.” They marked the location on the tape and began again.
“There,” said Nine, pointing again.
All totaled, it was thirteen times Dr. Marks had visited their apartment. Thirteen, with the most recent just within the last few days.
“We need to find out where they could be,” said Ian. “We know they would want to be partying somewhere.”
“You’re lookin’ for them boys that lived over there?” asked the manager.
“That’s right. Do you know them?”
“Don’t know ‘em but had to ask them to leave several times. They’d come in here and grab beer and cigarettes and try to open one before they paid for it. I know for a fact they stole some beef jerky and potato chips. Always talkin’ about partyin’.”
“Did they mention anywhere in particular?” asked Nine.
“Yeah,” he laughed. “Patti’s on the Levee Road.”
“Patti’s. Thanks,” said Gaspar.
“Hey, fellas? Wear gloves.” Ian stared at his friends, shaking his head.
“This day just keeps getting better.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Patti’s was everything they’d hoped it wouldn’t be. A rowdy bar with waitresses barely wearing anything, men drinking too much while smoking their weed, and music so painfully loud the four seniors almost turned around.
“Jesus, I hate this kind of fucking place,” muttered Nine. “In fact, I don’t think I ever liked a place like this.”
“Maybe not, but we’ve all been in them before,” said Ian. “I pulled Trevor out of at least a dozen like this when he was fucking anything that didn’t move. I’m grateful as fuck every day that Ashley came along.”
“I know what you mean,” smirked Ghost. “I never worried about Eagle, but Hawk? Damn. That boy made his way through every woman in a six-county radius. I was afraid his penis would fall off.”
“We all grow up,” said Nine. “Let’s mingle. Without touching anyone.”
It was hard to casually mingle when you were mature men, older than you looked, muscular, over six-feet-three, bearded, and badass-looking. The crowds tended to part, allowing them through as they moved.
Nine leaned toward his friends, telling them something.
