Broken Limits

Page 36

I clench my fists on the table between us. “Now, I’m ready.”
The door of the bar opens, and I suck in a breath and look over. Sure enough, Don’s partner has walked back in.
The fucker had better have something for us. If he doesn’t, he may find his face being slammed through the table.
He approaches us, and from the inside of his jacket, he pulls out a paper file. “Remember, this never came from me.”
“What am I looking at?” Asher asks.
“It’s Don’s credit card statement. You’re right. He’s been busy, but it’s nothing more than I would expect from someone on vacation, though I admit, it doesn’t look as though he’s in Mexico.” He opens the file and spreads out a couple of sheets of printed A4 paper, then he taps his finger to a couple of lines on the statement. “Here. And here, too.”
I focus on the printed words, reading the names of the businesses Don has paid money to over the past couple of weeks. Two particularly large sums stand out—the same two his partner, Detective Murphy, is marking out.
A house lease and a car rental.
Of course, the credit card statement can’t tell us the location of the property or the registration number of the vehicle, but it can tell us which company he used, how much he paid, and what dates he made the booking.
“I need you to do one more thing,” Asher says.
The detective’s eyes narrowed. “I did my side of the deal.”
“It’s not much, but we won’t get the information without the weight of the police on our side. I need you to contact these companies and find out where the property is that he’s rented and what kind of car he’s driving.”
“Why would they tell me that?”
“Make something up. Tell them you’re his partner, and that you can’t get in touch with him, and you’re worried for his safety. Maybe he got on the wrong side of a bad guy.”
The partner lifts an eyebrow. “Is that a lie?”
Asher pressed his lips into a line and eyeballs the detective. “Believe me, we’re not the bad guys here.”
I place my fists on the table. “You gonna do it or not?”
He lets out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll do it, but then I never want to see either of you again, got it?”
I give him a tight smile. “Not a problem.”
He picks up the statement and slips his cellphone out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “Give me a minute.”
He steps outside to make the call.
“You think he’s going to get what we need?” I ask Asher.
Asher nods. “Yeah, I think so.”
Hope rises inside me, but I force myself to push it back down. Even if we’re able to find out where Don’s taken Honor, we still might not make it in time. It’s approaching twenty-four hours since he first took her, and anything might have happened in that time.
Tension fills the air as we wait, but finally the door swings back open, allowing a shaft of daylight and dust motes to appear, and Detective Murphy comes back in.
“Okay, I got it.” He puts the file back on the sticky bar table, only this time there is an address written across it. “I want my money now.”
We have to trust that the address he’s given us is the right one, and not just one he’s made up off the top of his head.
Asher is clearly having the same line of thought. “If we find out you’re lying to us, we will come back and destroy you. You understand that, don’t you? We will make it our life’s work to ruin everything you’ve worked for in your life—your career, your family—everything. We have the power to really fuck things up for you.”
He stoops to pick up the bag. “I’m not lying. The address is real.”
“The same goes for if you decide to alert your partner. He’ll never know from us you gave us this information. If you alert him, your life as you know it is over. Do the smart thing, take the money, and keep your mouth shut.” I stare at him as his jaw works.