“Skylar Stewart?” he said, his pen hovering over his notepad.
“We don’t know.”
He straightened. “How do you not know the child’s last name?”
“It’s a tricky situation. Brynn is a field reporter for Channel 13 News in Tampa. She found Skyler in a run-down part of the city when she was looking for clues in the murder of Cullen Shepherd.”
He whistled low. “So, she kicked a hornet’s nest?” Shepherd’s murder had hit the national news, throwing his senator father into the spotlight at a time when he was already being raked over the coals for not sticking with the voters’ agenda.
“Looks like she might have. She doesn’t believe it was a drug deal.”
Yeah, neither did he. It was far too neat, and the story conveniently disappeared almost as soon as it broke. Maddox would start with dear old dad. “Smart woman.”
“Yeah. So, she went to the scene of the crime and found Skyler there. He’d been living behind the dumpster for a few weeks.”
A witness the police missed. He was starting to get the picture. He’d bet good ol’ Brynn was working her way up and Skyler was the key to that. “So, he was there when Shepherd was killed?”
“Yup. She called the police, but within minutes thugs were at her house—beat her front door in when she didn’t answer. They escaped through the bathroom window.”
So, she wasn’t planning to just use the kid for information. Good. “So, there’s a leak at the precinct. Who did she call there?”
“Her usual contact is Ned Rhodes, but he wasn’t there. So, she called the tip line. We know who answered and when. But who and how many had their hands on the information after is unclear.”
Maddox pinched the bridge of his nose. “Great, a needle in a haystack.”
“Yeah, my needle, though. I’ve already got a team working on that right now, but it means they might need to stay with you for a while.”
“You got a team on Skyler’s parents, too? We’re definitely breaking a few laws here. Especially when Grey crosses the state line.”
“Yeah, they’re working on it. But from the sounds of it living behind the dumpster was better, so he’ll likely be going to the state… after.”
“Damn. Okay, tell Grey to meet me at the Flying J off I-75, just inside Georgia. At…” he glanced down at his watch. “…2:30AM. I’ll take care of everything else.”
He set the phone back on the counter and slid his feet into his boots. While lacing up, he surveyed the room and made a mental note of everything he needed to take with him. His three guns, his cell, four back-up cell phones, and his pack with MREs and a change of clothes, just in case things got dicey and they couldn’t come right back to the cabin.
He’d do a sweep of his truck and make sure he had blankets, pillows, bottled water, snacks, and more weapons.
He’d learned in his years as a Marine, and the couple years he’d been working with The Omega Team, that he’d be best served by paranoia and over-preparedness.
The chances of Grey being followed were slim, but if it happened he’d be ready.
He set the locks and alarms in the cabin, did his inspection of the truck and found it stocked and ready to go, and climbed in for the duration. This time of night, he’d make the trip in three and a half hours.
He rolled down his window for the first leg as he left the Pine Mountains in Georgia. Rain had fallen in sheets for the afternoon and early evening, leaving the countryside washed clean. He took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air while it was still warm enough to do so comfortably.
He’d rank the scent of damp, clean earth right up there with an ice-cold Guinness and up-against-the-wall, aggressive sex.
Okay, the sex was better, but not by much. Which probably meant he’d been fucking the wrong women.
Now there was a surprise.
He could practically hear his Southern grandma’s voice, “Well, that’s ’cause you’re not doing it right, boy. You need to woo her a little. Let her know you’re not just keeping her around for a good time.”
He smiled now, but when she had dished out the advice his cock had tried to climb back into his body, taking his balls with it.
Funny how, now that she was gone, he’d give anything for another minute, even if those were the words out of her mouth. She’d been the highlight of his shitty childhood.
Grabbing the volume knob on the radio, he cranked the tunes to drown out the memories cropping up. He’d be to the Flying J in a few hours, and he needed a clear head when he got there.
