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“Lucy,” Bryn said, and smiled. “Come on. You checked them, didn’t you?”
“Well … only because of the accident. There were a couple from hospitals about pickups, but I took care of those. ”
“Anything else?”
“Two that were strange,” Lucy said, “but strange calls to a funeral home aren’t exactly breaking news. Half the ones we get are pranks during the day. Can’t imagine how many end up on the voice mail during drinking hours. ”
“Can I hear them?”
Lucy pulled out her cell phone and dialed, then handed it over. Bryn listened as the recordings played. The first one was definitely a prank, complete with giggling and drunken college come-ons. She deleted that one. The second, though, was interesting. It came with a long leader of silence, followed by a shaky voice saying, “This call is for Mr. Fairview. I-I need to meet tonight; it’s important. I have the money. ” A phone number followed, and Bryn quickly rooted in her purse for paper and pen to write it down.
“What are you going to do?” Lucy asked.
“Find out what he wanted,” Bryn said. “Wait. There’s another one. ”
This voice didn’t sound at all shaky. It was a man’s voice, and it sounded hurried and sharp. “You were supposed to meet me,” it said. “Don’t stand me up again. You know where. Tonight, nine. ” Nothing else. Bryn would have assumed it was a wrong number normally, but not this time. That’s him, she thought. The supplier. The Pharmadene leak. He hadn’t said his name, or left a number, or even specified a location. Fairview would have known.
But Fairview had taken it to his grave. Still, it was a lead. And if the number could be traced, maybe they’d have a name.
That fast? Bryn felt a surge of unease. If it had been that easy, McCallister wouldn’t have bothered to bring her back at all … and if she presented him with the solution on day two, what was there to keep her alive?
“Anything else?” Lucy asked, clearly interested now. “That one must have just come in. I only heard the prank calls, and that weird one to Mr. Fairview about having the money. ”
“Just a wrong number,” Bryn said. She erased the message and handed Lucy’s cell phone back. “Thanks. Listen, why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Nothing we can really do here. Tomorrow, we’ll go in and see what we can salvage. Wear something you can get dirty; I don’t know how much smoke damage there is in there. ”
“All right. See you tomorrow, Bryn. ”
“Bye. ”
Lucy got back in her Cadillac and drove off; Bryn watched her go, then looked around the lot.
Mr. Fairview’s car was still there. He, of all people, would be most likely to have GPS installed in his private vehicle, and GPS kept a record of destinations.
The car was locked, of course. Bryn tried the keys Fideli had given her, but they didn’t work. She peered in through the heavy tinting and saw that sure enough, there was built-in navigation. Perfect. The only problem was getting in. An alarm light was flashing on the dash, and she didn’t want to attract the attention of the construction crew.
If Joe Fideli had been here, he’d probably pop the lock in two seconds, using a harsh look and a bobby pin. She was not the car-theft expert.
But she knew enough to come back later, when nobody was around.
Nothing left to do here, then. She examined the car keys Fideli had given her, then looked at the choices. The lot was mostly empty, except for Fairview’s other parked vans, hearses, and limousines, but tucked over in the far corner, next to Fast Freddy’s sports model, sat a long, sleek Town Car. Bryn unlocked it with the remote and slipped inside. Warm, buttery leather interior. It was an automatic transmission, which was a relief, and when she poked around in the pockets she found that the car was registered to Fairview Mortuary, and she was listed as the principal driver. It was brand-new, apparently.
It started up with a purr that was hardly audible at all, but it grew to a low growl as she pulled out of the parking space. The acceleration on it was alarming, and she had to hit the brakes, fast, to avoid overshooting the stop sign at the top of the rise that led to the road. Pulling out into traffic wasn’t just easy; it was scary easy. She’d expected it to be less … powerful.
Somewhere, a phone rang. A cell phone on the seat of the car. She tried to fumble for it, but she didn’t need to; a speaker inside picked up the call and magnified it for her. “Ah … hello?”
“Bryn, it’s McCallister. How are you doing?”
“Doing?”
“Feeling. ”
“Fine, I guess. ” She looked at the clock on the dashboard. “Uh, I guess I need to come in for a shot?”
“Yes. No later than three p. m. We’ve programmed in Pharmadene as a destination for you on the navigation system. Head this way. I have some things to show you, and something you have to sign for. ”
“What?”
“Your gun,” he said. “You did ask for one, didn’t you?”
