No Reyes, though. I guess the only thing he sensed, the thing that called him to me, was a spike in adrenaline. I tried to stay calm so as not to summon him. He’d had a busy night what with all our sexual energies colliding like atoms in the sun. And then there were the men in masks. Add to that the whole toothpaste debacle, and Reyes should be about as exhausted as I was.
I refocused on the paparazzi. “What the fuck, dude?” I yelled when he turned to put his camera on the passenger seat. He put his key in the ignition, and for some reason—my reflexes being so catlike and all—I tried to open the door. I had every intention of dragging him out by his hair and beating the truth out of him. Thankfully his door was locked, because at some point during my walk over, I lost all sense of reality. His engine roared to life, and before I could utter another curse word, he peeled out, narrowly missing my toes.
I stood stunned for a solid minute. He was not just on some mission to set me up—as he drove past, I saw his jacket in the backseat. It had a badge clipped to the pocket. He was a cop.
9
I don’t know what I’d do without coffee.
Probably 15 to 20 in the state pen.
—BUMPER STICKER
Son of a bitch.
Were the cops setting me up?
I hurried back to Misery, hoping to catch the other guy, as he was clearly part of whatever was going on—but he was gone as well. I slammed the door shut and cursed under my breath before realizing my bag was still there. The guy could so easily have taken it. Thank God for small wonders.
When I opened the door again, Artemis had moved to the backseat. She stared straight ahead, pretty as she pleased, as though she’d really wanted the backseat the whole time. “I’m sorry, girl,” I said as I climbed in. “Mr. Andrulis, I don’t usually yell and slam doors, but being surveilled in what clearly is some kind of setup makes me cranky.”
He didn’t answer and I was really starting to feel bad for the guy. He had to be chilly.
I started up Misery, let her idle a solid five seconds—which was four seconds longer than usual—then backed out of the parking lot in search of a man with an inferiority complex.
* * *
When I stopped by the bond enforcement agency Garrett Swopes most often worked out of, the receptionist told me he was on a sting to apprehend a fugitive. I asked the pretty girl, who was far too young to be working at a bond enforcement agency, where that would be.
“Oh, I can’t tell you that, Ms. Davidson,” she said, popping her gum. “My uncle would kill me. He told me so. Said he’d cut my throat in my sleep if I ever gave you any information on any of our cases.”
“Wow. That’s a little harsh. Your uncle, huh?”
“Yeah. He hired me temporarily to see if I’d work out.”
“Do you?” I asked, giving her the once-over. “I mean, you look like you do.”
She blinked, trying to grasp my meaning. “Do I what?”
“Work out.”
“Oh,” she chuckled. “Yeah, they warned me about you. But I can’t tell you where he is. You won’t get anything out of me.”
She went back to popping her gum and filing her nails, and I nodded. “I think you’ll work out just fine, honey. Swopes wouldn’t happen to be at an apartment complex on the corner of Girard and Lead, would he?”
Her mouth dropped open. “How—?”
Well, that was all I needed. “Thanks, hon. Tell your uncle hey for me.” I waved as I went out the door. Poor thing. She had all the details written in triplicate in front of her. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I could read upside down.
Hopefully she’d figure it out eventually. She’d have to learn fast if she planned on working for her uncle. He was quite the skiptracer himself in his day. He’d had a rep for having hard knuckles and a jaw made of steel. Sadly, his nose was not made of the same indestructible substance. It’d been broken more than once and sat slightly to the left of his face, but he was a cool guy.
Still, why would he tell his niece not to give me any info? We’d been friends for a long time. And I’d apologized for that whole pineapple debacle months back. He really needed to let it go. Resentment like that tended to fester. He’d get an ulcer if he wasn’t careful. That was kind of my specialty, though. Causing ulcers. Everyone had to be good at something.
* * *
I pulled in behind Garrett’s black truck and turned off Misery. I’d lost Artemis somewhere around Central and Juan Tabo. She saw a cat. Garrett was standing at his tailgate with two other men. They all wore badges around their necks identifying themselves as bond enforcement agents. I quickly realized one of the men was the receptionist’s uncle, Javier. And he’d told her not to give me any info. I hoped I wasn’t getting her in trouble.