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“We can’t,” I pointed out. “Sloane only has Kade’s number.”
“Then give me her number and I’ll text her.”
The phone chimed.
“Should we listen to the voicemail?” Kade asked.
“I guess we’re gettin’ the fuck outta here, so why the hell not,” Sid grumbled.
Kade hit a button, and a fake-friendly voice played over the speaker phone.
Police Chief Peters.
I’d spoken to him several times, back when I was trying to get the Richards PD off their asses and solve Ali’s death. His smarmy tone still made my skin crawl.
“Kade! Dan Peters here. Heard your boss had a little mishap with his house the other night. He’s not picking up his phone, so I called you. You should tell him to call me. Immediately.”
“Alright, you heard what he had to say, now gimme the broad’s number and take out your battery.”
Seconds later, MY phone rang. Same number.
“Christ, this guy really has a hard-on for you, don’t he?” Sid said to Jack.
“Should I talk to him?” Jack asked.
“Hell no. At least not right now. Fee, write down that number on a piece of paper and take out yer battery. Everybody else, grab your shit, cuz we’re gettin’ the hell out of Dodge.”
82
Jack
The old guy drove us twenty miles away to a whole other town before we stopped at a liquor store.
“Kind of early in the morning, don’t you think?” I asked.
He pointed at a beat-up pay phone in the parking lot. “It’s for that, jackass. Now come on. Fee, give me the cop’s telephone number. You and the Viking stay here.”
Fiona tried to argue. “But – ”
“It ain’t like you’re gonna hear anything, an’ I ain’t either, so just sit tight and play footsies or somethin’.”
Sid and I walked over to the phone. The old guy dialed a number, listened to the receiver, then dumped several dollars’ worth of quarters into the slot.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Shut up,” he said, then spoke to someone on the phone. “Charlie? Sid. Hey, yeah, long time no talk. I’m on a case – can you do me a solid and hook me up with a number? Thanks. I gotta warn you, though, it’s to a John Q. Law in California.”
Sid listened to the reply, then laughed. “That’s why I called you – if anybody wanted to stick it to the Man, I figured it’d be you. Thanks, Charlie, I owe you a case of somethin’ good. Here’s the number.”
Sid turned to me and held out the phone. “My buddy’s doin’ a little thing where it looks like you’re callin’ from Chicago. For God’s sake, don’t mention his name or tell the cops where we are.”
“I’m not stupid,” I said, irritated.
“I ain’t exactly seen a lot of evidence to the contrary.”
I shot him a look, then took the receiver and put it up to my ear. Seconds later, Dan Peters answered.
“Hello?”
