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“I don’t know.”
“Come on.”
“Swear. All I’ve heard is that those three have been relocated to a safe house.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Swear to God.”
“I don’t believe in God,” she said, “and I seriously doubt that you do.”
“Someplace out of the county. That’s all I know, and that’s the truth.”
“Can you find out where?”
“Haven’t you been listening? I would bet my left nut that there are appointed spies in this building trying to sniff out the snitch.”
“You’re being paranoid, Billy.”
“Uh-huh. This is different. This isn’t like the time you asked me to get the exact amount of money a CEO took from the corporate kitty to pay his call girls for blow jobs.
“This shooting investigation wasn’t going gangbusters anyway, but you really fucked it up. Somebody hung a channel seven poster in the lobby and put a dart through the picture of you, right between your eyes. Everybody who works for this department would like to strangle you.”
“Not everybody.” She inserted a strategic pause, then said, “Look, if you’re this scared of being found out, let’s shut down. I’ll find a replacement. There are plenty who’ve vied for the opportunity.”
“Who?”
“You know I can’t say. I never reveal a source. Which I’ve proven to you today. Correct me if I’m wrong.” Another well-placed pause. “See? I could have turned on you to prevent darts being thrown at my picture, but I didn’t. Now hang up and act normally, and you’ll remain anonymous.”
“I stay your guy, right?”
“You stay my guy. You get a gold star if you find out the location of that safe house.”
“I can’t, Shauna. Not today. Jesus. I’d be cutting my own throat to even try.”
She didn’t say anything.
After a time, he said, “It won’t be easy, but I’ll try.”
“Which is why you’re my guy.”
“No promises. I’ll try. But if I come through, two beers, a skirt, no panties.”
She hung up on him. He was disgusting, and the fool probably would give himself away.
No great loss. Telling him that he could be replaced hadn’t been a bluff. There were plenty of starstruck cops longing to get up her skirt.
Elle was a little carsick from having ridden in the back seat, and her head was reeling from all that had happened in such a brief period of time, beginning with Glenda’s ill-timed visit, then Compton’s stunning call, culminating in leaving her home, towing a roll-aboard that Glenda had packed for her while she’d showered and dressed.
In looks and passivity, the two deputies serving as her escorts were interchangeable. They’d given her their names and showed her their badges, but she’d been so shaken by the turn of events, she hadn’t distinguished one from the other.
When they confiscated her cell phone, they’d been subjected to Glenda’s diatribe about their fascist tactics. “How are we supposed to communicate?” she’d demanded.
One of them had said, “You’re not.”
From her house in Fort Worth, it had been almost a two-hour drive to the rambling structure they were now approaching on a bumpy gravel road that cut through dense woods. Beyond asking if the car temperature was comfortable for her and telling her to let them know if she needed a restroom stop, the two in the front seats had said little during the entire trip.
Now, as the serviceable sedan rolled to a stop, the deputy on the passenger side said, “Here we are,” and alighted to open the back seat door for her. He carried her roll-aboard up the front steps of the house.
