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“In case of emergencies.” The old man wheezed in a breath. “Enough with the pleasantries, what’s going on there?”
“Ran into a bit of a snag here.” Jake relayed the case developments to his father. “What the hell could be on that phone and flash drive?”
“This is crazier than a raccoon on meth.” The old man paused. “Let me do some digging on this end. In the meantime, you play it cool.”
“Will do.” He paused, chewed his thumbnail and spit it out the window. “You eat today?”
“Little of this. Little of that. You know chemo can’t kill my appetite.”
Jake pictured the Francis Warrick of his youth. Tall. Strong. A Lucky Strike always dangling from his lip. Contrast that with the wisp of a figure he cut today. Damn. Cancer was a bitch. Lung cancer? The queen bitch.
“Glad to hear it.”
“Don’t need you to be glad. Need you to get this case in your rearview and get your ass back here. I can’t do it all, you know.”
“I know.”
“Good. Now give Burlington a call. He wants a progress report.”
“Will do. Bye.”
“What, you’re too big to tell your old man you love him?”
“No, sir” Jake grinned into the phone. Dad had been all huff and puff as long as he could remember. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too.” A cough rang through the phone. “Now get your ass back to work.”
Jake hung up and flipped open the case file and found Burlington’s personal cell number. What the hell could he tell him? No parent wanted to hear their daughter’s killer spent his free time terrorizing other women. They had to be sick with grief. Jake wished he had better information to offer than he did.
He’d worked with Burlington before, the guy was a pain in the neck, but no one deserved this. He pictured Burlington in his corner office. Short and skinny with Mick Jagger hair, the hedge fund manager thought of himself as a master of the universe. The fact he hadn’t saved his daughter must be agonizing.
Burlington answered on the first ring. “Good to hear from you, Mr. Warrick. I hope you have good news I can share with my wife.”
“No, sir. But the sheriff’s investigation is progressing.”
“And the phone? Have you recovered it?”
Jake’s trouble detector flared to life, raising goose bumps on his forearms. “No. Not yet.”
“I understand that the woman who found poor Kendall is looking for the phone, too.”
His body stilled but his heart jacked up to a hundred miles an hour. “How do you know that?”
“It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I get that phone. Also, Kendall had a flash drive. I want them both.”
Burlington’s superior tone and demands grated on Jake’s self-control. This wasn’t parental grief talking. “If I did find the phone and flash drive, I’d have to turn them over to the sheriff’s office.”
“Mr. Warrick,” Burlington’s voice turned icy. “You will do no such thing. The woman has what I want. She must. I do not care if you have to fuck her or frisk her to get them, but you will get them.”
Jake snorted with disgust. “I’m not one of your so-called bodyguards, Burlington, who take care of the less savory aspects of your personal life. I won’t break the law for you.”
“How about for your father?”
His gut collapsed in on itself. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Who am I? I am the man who can guarantee your dying father lives long enough to see the company he built from scratch fall apart. Loans will be called in. Francis Warrick will be watching his business go belly up while hooked to a chemotherapy drip. Do you understand, Mr. Warrick?”
“You bastard.” Jake ground the words out.
