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“Eyeball? Break his hand.”
Eyeball heaved the bat up like an ax and swung it down as hard as he could.
There was a sound like chopsticks snapping in two, and Eddie screamed in agony.
“Pull his finger out straight,” I ordered.
Wild Bill pulled Eddie’s pointer away from his fist as Eddie screamed some more.
I put it on the little button and – presto! – the phone unlocked.
I checked the text from JD.
You called twice but no message. Anything up?
Mother FUCKER.
There was just the one text. Everything else had been deleted.
In fact, there were no other messages of any kind.
Under Contacts, there was JD and a handful of other entries with only initials: DF, CM, JO. I checked the area codes, and they were all over the fuckin’ place.
“Who’s JD, Eddie?” I asked as I took the battery out of the phone.
“N-nobody,” he managed to choke out.
“Who is he?”
“A friend, that’s all.”
“Not a friend in the DEA, by any chance?”
The other guys all looked at me in shock.
Eyeball stared at Eddie. “You gotta be fuckin’ KIDDIN’ me – ”
Wild Bill pulled out his Smith & Wesson and put it to Eddie’s head. “Lemme ice ‘im, Lou – just say the fuckin’ word – ”
“Put it away, Bill. We got some more talking to do first.” I slapped the notebook down in front of Eddie’s face. “What’s this?”
“Looks like a notebook,” he said insolently.
I took the finger I’d used to unlock the phone and jerked it to the side so that it broke just above the knuckle.
Eddie screamed again.
“You got any more jokes for me, douchebag?” I asked.
He shook his head ‘no’ as he gritted his teeth through the pain.
“Then I’ll ask you again: what is it?”
“I don’t know – I don’t know – ”
“Eyeball?” I said. “Do the other hand.”
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