Page 82 of Fixed Asset

“Yeah, yours would probably fit me better than Jack’s.” That was a lie. Mason was way broader than Jack. “I could also use some pants. What size shorts do you wear, extra-shlong-long?”

I was digging through my bag when my joke landed.

The room exploded in laughter. As any good teller of a joke that had landed perfectly, I did not laugh. I smugly found Tom’s number and put my phone to my ear. I was walking out of the room to get away from all the chortling when Tom answered.

“Catarina.”

I didn’t know what part of the world he was in, but it sounded like I’d woken him up.

“Is now a good time?”

“I’ll call you right back.”

The line disconnected, and a moment later, an unknown number called back.

“Are we secure?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Is your source inside Carlos’s crew?”

“I can’t say. Why?”

Typical.

“If he’s not on the inside, then the cartel knows Carlos has the girl. If he’s on the inside and this information hasn’t been leaked, then Carlos has moved the girl.”

“Goddamnit. I didn’t think of that.”

“So? Is he in or out?”

“Inside.”

Great, now we were looking for a needle in a haystack.

“Any ideas where he’d take her?”

“The Sinaloa—”

“Not to be rude, Tom, but we’ve already scratched the places he wouldn’t take her off the list. We need intel on where he would.”

The laughter in the other room had quieted. I could now hear faint murmurs, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Carlos has ties in Baja Sur. A cousin in Tortuga Bay.”

“Anywhere else? Out of Mexico?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Did Calista kill Victor Stone and the two lawyers?”

Silence.

“If she had killed him, why would she kill him?”

More silence.

“You’re asking a lot of this team, of Berta. If she murdered them in cold—”