Hawk had highlighted the black SUV’s gas station transaction based on the time stamps of the video footage and we’d sat back to wait, hoping “Dave Jones” would be able to trace the owner of the credit card.
It had taken weeks for him to call saying he wanted to meet, and we’d almost given up that he would find something on the identity of the guy who’d driven Cassie off the road.
“An ID?” Hawk prodded.
“It’s a company card,” Jones said.
“A company card?” I was supposed to keep quiet, but the words slipped out around my surprise.
Any hope I’d had for a breakthrough flew right out the window. The last thing I’d expected was for the driver of the SUV to be some mid-level manager out for a drive.
“Shell company,” Hawk said, like he’d just realized what Jones was getting at.
“Bingo,” Jones said.
Hawk leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Fuck.”
“I’m not done,” Jones said, chewing on the toothpick. “Turns out, the people behind said shell company are already under investigation.”
Hawk frowned. “For what?”
“Sex trafficking, among other things.” Jones leaned forward with a scowl. “What the fuck have you gotten me into?”
Hawk shook his head. “No idea. I just wanted an ID on a guy who ran an innocent woman off the road.”
“Well your ‘innocent woman’ is mixed up in some serious shit. And now I’m mixed up in it too, which I don’t appreciate.”
“I owe you,” Hawk said.
“No shit.”
“Can you tell me anything about the investigation?” Hawk asked.
Jones looked around, like he half expected a bunch of spooks to appear out of the woodwork and haul him away. “It’s big, been going on for almost three years now.”
I thought about the missing girls, the sex trafficking ring at Aventine, that shit the fucking Blackwell Beasts had been mixed up in.
“What can you tell me about the people under investigation?” Hawk asked.
“Fuck you,” Jones said, his voice flat. “I can tell you exactly fucking nothing.”
“Come on,” Hawk urged, leaning over the table, his voice a fevered whisper. “There’s gotta be something I can run down on my own. It’s not like I’ve got anyone to tell.”
I didn’t know the details of Hawk’s ouster at the bureau, but I knew he’d created enough of a firestorm that he was persona non grata there. There were only a handful of people like Jones even willing to return Hawk’s calls.
Jones tapped his fingers on the formica table. “I will fucking kill you if a word of this ever gets out.”
I got a glimpse of Hawk when he’d been a fed when he leaned back in his chair again, giving Jones space.
“Noted,” Hawk said.
Pressure, space, pressure, space.
All while Jones dripped information, dancing around the sensitive shit, covering his ass.
They’d had the same training, and I couldn’t help being fascinated by the interplay.
“Word from friends in the investigation is that the org is connected to Dimitri Kaprolov.”
