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“For starters, yes,” I said, nodding.
“Okay. Let’s step outside,” he said, motioning toward the door.
Lou Truman was a tall and fit guy with a full head of salt and pepper hair, and the kind of face that would make young girls with daddy issues all kinds of happy.
“What’s going on, Lark? Are you in trouble?” he asked, looking at me.
“He’s… helping me. And sort of. But I’m not here about me. It’s Myles.”
“What about Myles?”
“I think he’s missing. And there was… there was blood on his bedspread.”
“Not a lot,” I clarified. “It would be a superficial wound, at worst,” I assured him, watching the panic spread across his face.
“Who would hurt Myles?”
“That’s the thing…” Lark started, lip quivering.
“You’re in trouble?” he asked, looking closer at her face, the split in her lip, the bruise on her cheek that the makeup wasn’t quite covering up perfectly. His gaze even went down, seeming to take in the bulkiness under her shirt from the elastic bandages.
“I… sort of. I, ah, I caught the negative attention of some bad guys. And I have been kind of… spending time away from my life to see if it will blow over.”
“But now someone is screwing with Myles to fuck with you.”
“I’m so sorry,” Lark whimpered.
“That’s what we think,” I said, trying to keep things calm and rational.
“Who?”
“The guys who run Iced Out.”
“The smack dealers? For fuck’s sake,” Lou hissed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.
“Are they big players?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t you know that?” he asked, glancing down at my cut.
“Not in the area much anymore. Don’t know all the players anymore.”
“They’re a wanna be Costa Nostra, but without the code and the manners and the smarts. They’re one step above a normal, disorganized street gang.”
“They run a dog fighting ring in the building,” Lark supplied, deciding to trust Lou with the truth.
“I’ve heard rumors about that,” Lou agreed. “Which is likely how you got in trouble with them,” he said. “Okay. What kind of headstart do they have?”
“Not much. Myles got off his shift and went home to take a shower. We were maybe half an hour behind him,” I told him.
“Okay. That’s good. There’s been no contact from them? You’re working under the assumption that they are trying to draw Lark out?”
“Yeah. Nothing else makes sense.”
To that, Lou let out a deep exhale, trying to figure out how to handle the situation.
“Okay. Lark, knowing you, you reported the ring, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
