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He and Bri on the same wavelength again?
No.
The number that flashed on his screen was the main office line.
He put the phone to his ear and greeted the operator.
“Agent Davis, a call came in on the general number a few minutes ago from a woman who wanted to speak with you ASAP. She wouldn’t say why. I do have her name and contact information.”
“Hang on a sec.” Keeping tabs on his surroundings, he moved out of the middle of the sidewalk, extracted a notebook and pen, and flipped to a blank page. “Go ahead and give me the information.” He jotted it down as she spoke. “Thanks. I’ll follow up.”
Once he ended the call, he read the name he’d written.
Laura Butler.
It didn’t ring any bells.
He googled the area code.
Kansas City.
Nothing clicked there, either. Near as he could recall, he didn’t know a soul in that area.
He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes until the meeting started. That ought to give him sufficient time to cross this item off his to-do list.
After calling the woman’s number, he picked up his pace. Lingering too long in this part of the city wouldn’t be smart, even for a federal agent who was carrying.
The woman answered on the second ring, and after Marc identified himself, he got straight to business. “I understand you wanted to speak with me. How can I assist you?”
“Thank you for your quick response. I’m actually calling on behalf of my father, Joseph Butler.”
Marc ran the name through his mental database as he pocketed his notebook. Came up blank. “I’m sorry. That name isn’t familiar to me.”
“He told me you wouldn’t know him, but he says he needs to talk with you. And there isn’t much time.” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “He’s in hospice with pancreatic cancer. The doctor thinks he only has a few days l-left. I don’t have any idea what this is about, and he won’t answer my questions.”
Marc skirted an empty vodka bottle. “I’ll be happy to talk with him if you want to put him on the line.”
“This is where it gets tricky. He says he has to talk with you in person, and that it’s very important.”
Marc tamped down a surge of annoyance. If the man had an urgent message, why couldn’t he relay it by phone?
“Did he say if this is related to a case I’m working on?”
“No. He wouldn’t give me any information. I’m sorry.”
“You’re in the Kansas City area, correct?”
“Yes, and I know this is a huge imposition. I tried to reason with Dad about it, but he got very agitated. It’s hard to say no when someone you love is d-dying.”
Marc turned the corner, his destination in sight. “Would a Zoom call work?” He’d try to accommodate the man, but eight hours behind the wheel was far more than his boss would expect or sanction without clear justification.
“I suggested that. He said no. He insists it has to be in person. And he’s not hallucinating or anything, in case you’re wondering about that. Mentally he’s as sound as ever. He won’t even take many pain meds.”
This was getting weirder by the minute—and beginning to set off alarm bells. While Bri claimed she didn’t have any known enemies, after a dozen years with the ATF, he had his share. And a few of them wouldn’t hesitate to exact revenge if they got half a chance.
Legit as this woman sounded, it could be a setup.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Butler. With so little information to go on, I can’t devote a full day to a trip to Kansas City.” He paused at the entrance to the US Attorney’s office and dug out his creds.
