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He tried to call back, but sure enough, it was blocked.
Bailey cursed at his blank, dark phone screen, and then, like magic, it came to life again. That same number, the one that had been tormenting him all night.
It was her voice again, that same damn young female voice that sounded somehow familiar.
“Did that phone call not go the way you planned?”
“What the… who the hell are you?” Bailey said.
“I told you. You know who I am.”
“When I find you,” Bailey began to say, but the line cut out before he could finish.
He forced himself to calm down, fight the urge to hurl his cell phone against the brick wall of the strip club behind him and smash it. That voice, that damn woman’s voice, he knew it from somewhere. She was working with Harris.
Or was she?
Had he got this wrong? It didn’t seem possible. Harris was the only one who knew about the account, the account for the money he got for setting up that college girl. Thirty grand, drop a little bit of evidence in her purse, easy money.
That voice. The one calling him all night. Female, young. Maybe even college age.
Got to sober up, here,Bailey told himself. Got to think straight.
Get thinking like a cop again. Make some moves. Stop being on the defense, go on the offense.
The car that drove past. Messing with him just like the girl on the phone. Well, that was their mistake, big time. He had their license plate right there in his phone.
His buddy from back in the day was still at the station, pulling a night shift, he was pretty sure. A few seconds later, and Bailey had him on the phone.
“Yo,” he said, once the line picked up. “Yo, it’s Bailey. I need a favor.”
“You always need a favor.”
“And I always deliver, don’t I? So hook me up here.”
“What do you need?”
“I need you to run a plate for me. Off the books.”
“All right. Send it.”
He rattled off the plate number, waiting patiently for the response. He was starting to feel better again, more in control. Making moves, not on his back foot any more. Even sobering up a little. Thinking more clearly.
“Got it. Plate is registered to a Carly Marino.”
“Goddamn it,” Bailey said.
“You know her?”
He knew her. The college girl, the mark, the one Harris had paid him to set up. Now that he was thinking more clearly, now that the pieces were coming together, it was all lining up. That voice. It was her. Carly. He was sure of it.
“She was arrested,” he said. “Drug charge.”
“Out on bail. In her sister’s custody.”
“The sister would’ve had to leave her address with the court. Contact info to release the prisoner into her custody.”
“Yeah.Right here.”
