Page 86 of A Future To Remember

“Mr. Hornby, my best friend was abducted by a guy with this tattoo, and if you have information about him, then we might be able to track her down.”

Hornby appeared nonplussed, and I could feel the vein at my temple begin to throb as my blood pressure rose and my hands began to curl into fists.

It was obvious to everyone present that he recognized the tat, and I was convinced he’d been the one to ink it and knew exactly whose arm he’d inked it on.

I was about to leap over the counter and shake the name out of him when Oscar shrugged out of his coat and began to roll up his sleeve. “The sign outside says walk-ins are welcome. That right?”

Hornby’s brow rose in surprise. “That’s right.”

Oscar nodded. He sported a couple of tattoos, mostly on his back and inside the forearm of his left arm. His right forearm was bare, and he displayed it for the old man. “I figure I need some new ink. You familiar with El Sagrado Corazón?”

Hornby studied him for a minute before answering. “The Sacred Heart. Yeah. I know it. I’ve inked it a couple’a times.”

Oscar nodded. “Great. How long’s it take?”

“Depending on the size, between two hours and five.”

“Let’s make it fun-size. How much?”

Again, Hornby studied him for a long beat before answering. “Three hundred without conversation, five hundred with.”

“Deal,” I said, reaching for my wallet.

Two hours later, the three of us walked out of Hornby’s. Oscar’s forearm was wrapped in white gauze, but underneath was a pretty great-looking piece of art.

But that wasn’t the only prize for the day. The other prize was a name. A full name for Wally and Wade Wechselmann. I’d already called Brice, and our team was on the brothers’ last-known address like white on rice.

As we headed to the car, I asked Oscar, “Why the Sacred Heart?”

He smiled at me before opening the driver’s side door. “El Sagrado Corazón is all about faith, sir. I figure that, as we close in on these fuckers, we need it now more than ever.”

I had to clear my throat, managing only to nod at him. His cell rang, saving me from embarrassing myself, but I felt Candice’s comforting hand on my back as I pulled my own door open.

“Hernandez,” Oscar said as he answered. Then, “Thanks for the callback brother. I’m hoping you can help out on a case we’re on. Two brothers. Three Percenters. Wally and Wade Wechselmann. Ever heard of ’em?”

I studied Oscar’s face for any hint that his guy in D.C. knew the brothers but was disappointed when Oscar said, “Got it. Call me back if you get a hit.”

We climbed into the truck and then we all decided to hang out in Wallace until someone called us back. Oscar found us a nearby diner, where we had lunch.

Eggy sat snuggled against me, sleeping soundly. I had him inside my coat, so none of the staff knew he was there.

Oscar ate his sandwich with gusto, but Candice and I both picked at our meals. And then Oscar’s phone rang again, and the whole table stiffened.

He pulled the phone from his pocket, looking at the display before he mouthed, “D.C.” and then answered the call. “Pete. Got something?”

Candice laid a hand on my arm. We both felt it. There was something in the air, like a long-awaited answer finally coming to us.

We watched Oscar’s eyes widen as he hastily wadded up his napkin, throwing it on his plate and scooting out of the booth.

Meanwhile, I threw some cash on the table—more than enough to cover the bill—and Candice scooted out quickly to make way for me.

“Text me the coordinates,” Oscar said, his voice loud with excitement. “And thanks again, brother. I owe you.”

We practically ran out of the diner, dashing to the truck, neither me nor Candice asking Oscar about the phone call. There was no need. His guy in D.C. had found them.

“How far?” I asked when we’d all settled in.

Oscar glanced at his phone, tapped it several times, and waited while it conducted its search. “Seventy miles southwest,” he said. “The Wechselmann brothers have been off grid for more than a decade, but they’ve caused enough trouble to make it onto the FBI’s domestic-terrorist watchlist, which means we know that they live in a cabin with no running water or electricity, but the coordinates have been in their file for the past couple of years. Pete says the file was updated a year ago by a drone flyby, and the brothers still seemed to be living there.”