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His gaze falls to the bills in my hand again and I slide some of the cash toward him.
He takes it. “Big guy. Baseball cap, hoodie. Kept his head down so I didn’t really get a good look.”
“Hm. Did he have any scars? On his neck, maybe?”
“Came in late a couple nights ago. Couldn’t see him all that well.”
“Do you remember what kind of car he drove?”
“I know a taxi dropped him off.”
“Checks out tomorrow, you said? Did he have a bag with him?”
“Can’t remember. Maybe. I don’t know, man. I’m not supposed to talk about our guests.”
“I bet. Thanks for nothing.” I walk out. That was useless, and there’s no sense in waiting for Aaron Anon, aka Aaron Anonymous, to return. He won’t be back. He just wanted to give me enough time to find what he left me.
I take my phone out of my pocket to look at my exchange with Thiago or whoever has access to his messaging app. I hit the call button one final time and I think I know what I’m going to get—and I’m right.
This time, the phone doesn’t ring, doesn’t go into voicemail. A recorded message comes on to tell me that number is no longer in service.
The afternoon sun is setting in the horizon. I stand outside in that parking lot and watch it descend. I’ve found what I was meant to find. I won’t have any more messages from Thiago’s number.
The parking lot lights flicker on as I cross to my SUV. Val texts me as I climb in. He tells me he’s taking Madelena home. I ask him to let her know I’ll be back in a few hours and start the long drive back to Avarice, but I’m not going home just yet.
It’s a little after ten at night when I get to Rick Frey’s house. Rick Frey is Odin’s boyfriend and the same man who was able to hack into the website of the security company Jax Donovan used to access files that were supposed to have been destroyed years ago. He lives in a modest apartment with his mother. I walk into the three-story building and make my way up to the third floor. It’s quiet inside when I ring the bell, then remember from the last time Odin and I were here that it’s broken and knock on the door.
The first time I paid Rick Frey a visit, Odin was at my side. If he hadn’t been, I’m pretty sure Rick would have had a heart attack. He’s skittish, one of those people whose IQ is so high they pay the price socially. I wonder how he and Odin met, actually.
I knock again, louder this time, and hear someone hurrying to the door.
“Who is it?” Rick asks.
“Santos Augustine.”
A moment passes where things go completely still. It’s like a kid closing his eyes, thinking he’s safe if he can’t see the danger.
“Open the door, Rick. I need your help.”
I wonder if he is calling Odin when I hear his panicked voice on the other side, but when I bang again, the lock clicks and he opens the door as far as the chain allows.
“Seriously?” I ask. Does he think that ridiculous chain will keep me out?
“What do you want?”
“I need your help. Please.”
He hesitates, but closes the door and I hear the chain slide before he opens its gain. Rick stands there in a black T-shirt and dark jeans, his phone in his hand. He looks like he’s had too much coffee and not enough sleep, like he had the last time I was here.
“Odin’s on his way!” he says, backing away as if that might mean something to me.
“Relax. Like I said, I need your help.” I push the door open and walk in, taking in the tiny apartment, the tired but neat furnishings. The smell of burnt coffee comes from the kitchen.
“My mom’s asleep,” he says. “She doesn’t like visitors so late. Can you, um, maybe come back tomorrow—”
“No, afraid not. Let’s go.” I gesture to his room, which is where he has his computer. “Take it easy, Rick. I’ll pay you for the work.”
At that he stops. “You will?”
