Then he gave her a quick kiss, reached down and ruffled Andrew’s hair, and left. As he crossed the threshold, he almost yielded to the temptation to go back inside for one last round of hugs. But as soon as he soundly pulled the door shut behind himself, it was as though a switch was flipped. A burst of energy surged through him. He was one step closer to nailing Oz.
He plunged into the torrent and jogged all the way to the camo garage, where he retrieved his beat-up pickup, which he was glad to have. It was good cover.
Once he was on the highway and headed for Auclair, he called John’s cell to tell him about Dylan’s revelation. He got John’s voice mail, but he didn’t want to leave a message. John would return his call.
He then called Jim Tucker, who answered with, “I don’t have time for you.”
“It’s pissing rain, and I’m driving in it. You’ll have to speak up.”
“I said, I don’t have—”
“I heard that part. What do you know about Malone?”
“He’s dead as a doornail.”
“That much I know.”
“How’d you hear?”
“Via special delivery.” He told Tucker about receiving the severed finger.
“Jesus,” Tucker said. “I hadn’t heard about the missing finger, only that the crime scene was barf-worthy.”
“Yeah. Makes me wonder what meat is in the restaurant’s Bolognese.”
Tucker said, “NOPD served a search warrant. Lots of incriminating goodies were found in Malone’s office there.”
“What about El Paso?”
“No sign of him, but the search is underway. After the restaurant closed last night, he and Malone left together. Just the two of them.”
“Huh.” Mitch wasn’t surprised. “That young man has a lot to answer for. Has a BOLO been issued for him?”
“Yes, but the PD didn’t consult us before putting it out there.”
Mitch instantly picked up on Tucker’s disgruntlement. “You wish they hadn’t issued it?” When Tucker didn’t answer, Mitch pressed. “Why do you wish they’d waited on the BOLO?”
Nothing.
Mitch figured that something was about to go down, and Tucker would rather El Paso be there when it did, instead of in police custody already lawyering up. “Are you about to ruin our knife-wielding friend’s day?”
Silence.
“Come on, Jim. A simple yes or no.”
He didn’t say either, which meant yes.
“Where and when?” Mitch asked.
“No can tell. I’m relying on my pension.”
“Can you at least—”
“No.Nada. I gotta go.”
Nada. The Spanish word was a clue. El Paso had a foot in both cartel camps, the Mexican Caballeros and Oz’s. His capture would be a shiny trophy for the DEA.
Mitch guessed that Tucker hoped to catch him preventing Oz’s people from receiving the haul they had stolen from the Caballeros. Or perhaps El Paso had seen that the grass was greener on Oz’s side and would be there to take delivery of the payload on behalf of him.
