The 210 had been a total nightmare, but they’d worked their way down to the 10 where the traffic was moving at least.
But it was crowded and too many crazy Angelenos drove like they were auditioning for NASCAR, so Sam kept both hands on the wheel of their shitty little rental car as they headed toward Palm Springs.
Jules was deep in his phone as he sat beside him, scrolling through something...
Sam glanced over at him again. “You want me to trycalling Mick from my phone?” he asked. He had it plugged into the car’s Bluetooth.
“Let’s give him a few more minutes to call us back. The conversation he’s having with Emily can’t be an easy one,” Jules said, clearly distracted by whatever he was looking at. “I know that I knowsomeonein Palm Springs...”
Oh-kay.That’swhat he was doing. Scrolling through his enormous list of friendly contacts on his phone, in hopes of finding additional back-up—someone who might be available to help Mick and Emily go to ground in Palm Springs until Sam and Jules arrived.
It was going to be fully dark by the time they got to the funky little desert resort town. It was already after 1900, and his GPS was currently claiming the trip would take three and a half hours, which meant traffic up ahead was gonna be a goatfuck. Sam was hoping he could do it in closer to three, still that only got them there after 2200. Which was going to be rough for Mick and Emily since they’d be waiting out in the literal desert cold.
“Jazz Jacquette used to have family in Palm Springs,” Sam told Jules now. “A sister, I think.” Jacquette was one of the older SEAL officers in Team Sixteen who was not intending to re-up. He still had a few months to go before he could walk away, but Sam was looking forward to adding him to the Troubleshooters roster. He was a good man. “You want me to give him a call, see who he knows in the area?”
Jules shook his head. “No, I know there’s someone in here who... yes! Rodney Burke, but oh crap, I haven’t talked to him since his wife died. God, when was that...?” He made a sound of pain. “It was at least six months ago.”
“Do I know him?” Sam asked. Burke. The name was vaguely familiar.
“High school friend,” Jules told him. “He came to mywedding—you might’ve met him at the reception. He’s former DEA. He was working out of the Los Angeles division, in the Vegas district office. He quit when his wife got diagnosed, about a year ago. They moved to Palm Springs for Connie’s treatment—it’s where she grew up. She had a doctor she liked so...”
“I don’t think I met him,” Sam said.
“Rod didn’t stay long at the reception,” Jules said. “Connie was already... unwell. I was just really touched that he came all the way to Boston to be there. It meant a lot.”
“It was kind of a tiring day for all of us,” Sam said and Jules looked at him, because yes, thatwasan understatement, and they both laughed.
“A good day though,” Jules said.
“Very good,” Sam agreed.
“All right,” Jules said. He took a deep breath. “I’m gonna just call him, and...” He exhaled hard. “Content warning: Before his wife got cancer, they lost a baby, well, a toddler. Flynn was three whenhegot sick and...” Another big inhale and exhale. “Try not to listen because... I’m probably gonna cry.”
“Not listening,” Sam said, taking the moment to just sit there in deep gratitude that both his kids—Haley and Ash—were healthy. As was Alyssa, thank God. Damn, he was a lucky, lucky man.
Jules hit the call button and put his phone to his ear, except...
“Wait,” Sam said. “What?” Somehow Jules’s phone had over-ridden his on the car’s Bluetooth, and the sound of the call ringing came loudly through the internal speakers. As did the voice of someone, presumably Rodney, picking up.
“Hello?”
Sam glanced over at Jules who was frozen in his seat with a slightly puzzled look on his face.
“Hobbit...?” Jules said.
There was an equally long pause before the voice spoke again, in an almost identical questioning tone. “Jules...?”
Jules laughed as he looked at his phone. “Yeah. What the hell? Did I dial wrong? No, this is definitely Rodney’s landline.”
“No, yeah,” the voice responded. “You didn’t misdial. I should’ve answeredRodney Burke residence.” He made his voice sound polished and polite, like a private secretary.
“What are you doing there?” Jules asked.
“I, um, came to stay for a while when Connie went into home hospice,” Hobbit said. “And I just kinda never left.” He lowered his voice. “He’s um... still not doing too well.”
“You fucking talking about me?” Another voice—deeper, rougher—came over the speaker.
“No, I’m talking about the other asshole who lives here and desperately needs to go to a meeting,” Hobbit shot back—clearly he’d put their phone on speaker so Jules could hear them both.
