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The address was krakenssforeverrr2020, which made her laugh. Aviss must know Andreas was a huge fan of the Seattle soccer team. Which made her wonder why Andreas was on the FBI’s radar. Sam dialed Wiz’s number, one of the few she had memorized. Whether Wiz would pick up an unknown number was another question.
“Speak,” Tom said.
Sam couldn’t help chuckling. “Hey, it’s Sam Kerr. I’m with Trevor Mills and safe for now. Can you two answer a question for me?” She yanked the annoying lip ring off, sliding it into her pocket.
“Glad you’re okay. We’ll do our best, Sam. You’re on speaker. Shoot.”
Tom’s calm tone helped her relax. “One of the Western Washington District Attorneys is a friend from law school. Andreas Dahl. Can you check him out?”
“Already done, Sam,” Wiz said. “I looked into a lot of your friends as a precaution. Dahl is clean as far as I can tell. He’s got full control of his trust fund, spends it semi-wisely except for some super cars and luxury boxes at sporting events. His investments are in a blind trust, so there’s no conflict of interest. He’s an only child, and his parents are wealthy enough to protect themselves, so there’s no family at risk that I can find. He’s gone up against the Bratva before with some success, but others in the legal system have hampered him. I’ll text his personal contact information. Don’t call or email his office. I think his boss is clean, but I’m not positive. I know others in his office are dirty, along with some judges.”
“Thanks, Wiz. I appreciate it. I’ll text you an email address for me.” Without Wiz, she would have been dead a long time ago, along with Deb and many of their friends. “Hey, can you also figure out a way for me to get cash from my bank accounts without getting caught?”
“We’ll get you money. Sending your info now. Stay safe.”
The call dropped, and the phone vibrated. Sam copied the information on the page Trevor gave her and entered Andreas’s phone number into the phone. She’d text him rather than call, but what to say so he’d look at her email?
“Try something from your dating life. Someplace you two hung out a lot, or a favorite restaurant, or an embarrassing moment no one else would know about.” Trevor stared out the windshield, his fists clenched on the steering wheel.
They’d been in law school, so they mostly studied. Or spent time at Andreas’s apartment, since he didn’t have a roommate and it was far nicer than hers. He’d taken her to a few fancy dinners, mostly charity events his mother was involved in. His parents had been polite but never hesitated to mention wealthy young women Andreas knew as a child. Sam had also received propositions from a lot of nasty old men, often with their wives nearby. Evidently, they thought she’d be grateful for the opportunity. She shuddered. She’d been fortunate to have scholarships, along with a boat-load of loans. She should have learned what society was like from that experience, but she’d been young and dumb. And broke.
And that was the hook. He’d offered to loan her college money. She’d refused, leading to their biggest fight. They were unequal enough; being literally in his debt was more than she could handle. He couldn’t understand her point at all. She’d made him watch the film Pretty Woman, and he still didn’t see the problem.
Watch for a giant squid email from the Pretty Woman loan company.
She tipped the phone toward Trevor.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do I want to know?”
“No.” She waved away his question. “Inside joke. He should recognize the reference, but it would be difficult for anyone else to figure it out.”
“Hope so, because it’s a chance we need to take.” He shrugged. Then he took back the phone and handed her his laptop. “Write your email while I turn on the hotspot. The laptop uses a virtual private network through the hotspot but could be traced with time. Then we’ll go.”
Sam entered Andreas’s personal email address and began typing.
It’s the Pretty Woman loan company. Still not taking your money, but I need some help. On the run from some really ugly people; can’t trust anyone. You might check with friends on 3rd Avenue, but be careful who you ask. Fish progeny are rotten; not good on toast points. Need someplace safe to work with internet access on the far side of the mountains from you.
She let Trevor read the email and he huffed a laugh. “Nice references to the Seattle FBI office and the Russians. Key word searches aren’t likely to connect progeny with eggs, let alone caviar. Good job. Send it, power it down, and pull the battery.” He handed her the phone. “Turn that one off and remove the battery, too. It doesn’t report GPS location, but it uses cell towers, so we can be found if it’s powered up. Screwdriver in the glove box.”
She clicked the phone’s power button. He started the car, pulled out onto the road, and paused at the intersection. “North, west, south, or turn around?”
Sam glanced in the rear-view mirror. “Forward, not back. North? I don’t think I’ve ever been in that part of Washington State.”
“Better reason than most. North it is.” He turned right and drove the speed limit through town, then increased to highway speed. “It’s not ideal because we’re locked into this road for many miles. But there’s more places to hide than there are on the southern highways, and probably fewer cameras. Although I need to switch license plates soon.”
“You have extra license plates?” Trevor took preparation to a whole new level.
He scoffed. “Of course. Doesn’t everyone?” He shot a look at her. “No. I don’t. We’ll stop in some little town, find an abandoned vehicle, and change plates. I’ll slap some mud over the tags. Could an alert police officer pull us over? Sure. But we’ll obey the rules of the road, driving like little old ladies, and they won’t bother us.”
Sam snorted. “You don’t know the same little old ladies I know.”
“More like the Little Old Lady of Pasadena?” Trevor grinned. “I love those old Beach Boys tunes.”
She remembered that; it was one of the few things Trevor had in common with his dad. Neither she nor Trevor had won the lottery with their parents; both sets were stuck in the dead-end past.
Trevor snapped his fingers. “Hey, where did you go?”
She glared at him. “Don’t do that. I’m not a dog at your command or a stupid girl waiting to make you a sandwich.” A reminder of exactly why falling for Trevor Mills was a terrible idea. Despite his earlier words, he obviously considered her at his beck and call.
