Vero and I scoped out Ricky’s house from a distance. The aged bungalow was only a few blocks west of the hotel, but it felt like miles from the gaudy trappings of the boardwalk. Charlie’s red Cadillac looked grossly out of place here, parked haphazardly between the overflowing trash cans along Ricky’s street. There was no sign of Feliks yet, but I didn’t imagine we had long to wait before he’d show up.
I set Kevin Bacon down behind Charlie’s Cadillac and snapped a picture of him with a burner phone I’d purchased from the vending machine in the lobby. I zoomed in, making sure the make, model, and license plate were clearly visible in the photo. In the background, I’d managed to capture the faded house number on Ricky’s front porch. I unfolded theLOST DOGflyer I’d found on the boardwalk and entered Giada Toscano’s cell number into my phone. I started typing.
I saw the man who stole your dog. Be careful. He has a gun.
I attached the photo to the message and hitSend.
Giada’s reply was immediate.Who is this?
I held the burner over a trash can, ready to dump it, then paused.
Cam,I texted back.
I wiped my prints from the phone before getting rid of it. “Come on,” I said, scooping Kevin under my arm. “Let’s get a closer look.”
Vero and I crept down the narrow gap between Ricky’s house and his neighbor’s. We crouched below a window, scratching Kevin Bacon behind the ears to quiet his whines as we listened. Loud voices carried from inside, and I rose up just high enough to peek in.
The house was sparsely furnished, the interior as drab as the dull aluminum siding and peeling shutters outside. Ricky and Cam sat on the floor of the kitchen, their backs to the shabby cabinet doors. They were zip-tied at the ankles, their hands behind their backs. Cam’s nose was bleeding down the front of his coat, and Ricky’s head wobbled, as if he were fighting to hold it up.
Charlie walked into view. “Let’s try this one more time. Where’s the car?” The barrel of his Magnum tapped an agitated rhythm against his thigh.
“I already told you everything I know,” Ricky said through a thick throat. “I took it to Hector’s garage on Friday night. That’s the last time I saw it. I already gave you the address. Go see for yourself.”
“I went to that garage, and my car wasn’t there! So unless you want to spend another night bleeding on this floor, you’re going to tell me where to find Hector!”
“I don’t know!”
Vero and I jumped as Charlie took Ricky by the hair, yanking his head up. “Where would he take the car? Who would he sell it to?”
Ricky’s chest hitched, his sobs so deep they were nearly silent as he slowly shook his head. His eyes were swollen shut, one cheek badly misshapen. I took out my phone, turned on my video camera, and started recording.
“Leave him alone,” Cam cried. “He doesn’t know anything.”
“And I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut. The only reason you’re still alive is because I need you to get me into that goddamn file!”
I stopped the video and texted it to Nick, Sam, and Georgia. I also texted a copy to Cam’s Uncle Joey. By now, they should have all received a separate text from an anonymous whistleblower within Feliks’s inner circle. That message would have contained a spreadsheet—the sameone Cam had copied from Feliks’s servers and taken for leverage—a list of every person who’d ever done a job for Feliks Zhirov, including evidence of wire transfers they’d received from the Russian mob. I was assured this spreadsheet included countless payments to Charlie.
By now, someone on Nick’s team would have opened that attachment and alerted the others. They would have seen Charlie’s crimes spelled out in black-and-white. And if Nick still held stubbornly to the idea that his best friend was innocent, this video would erase any doubts.
Once they saw it, it wouldn’t take them long to find us.
I just hoped it wasn’t before Feliks did.
Charlie pressed his gun to Ricky’s head. “I’ll ask you one last time. Where did they take the car?” Ricky’s eyes rolled back as he passed out.
“Cut it out!” Cam shouted as Ricky slumped to the floor.
Charlie struck Cam hard across the face. I stood and banged a fist against the window, consumed with white-hot rage.
Charlie whirled. I held up the dummy drive. Cam blinked up at me, a warning in the frantic shake of his head. He had no way of knowing the real drive was in my shoe.
“I’m coming in,” I said through the glass.
Charlie made a sweeping gesture toward the back door with his gun.
“That’s a promising start to negotiations,” Vero whispered.
“We’re not negotiating,” I said. The time for diplomacy had passed. I was done letting myself be pushed around by people like Charlie and Feliks Zhirov. I returned the dummy drive to the pocket of my hoodie as we started toward the back of the house.
