Page 127 of Hard Heart

“You heard. And where the hell is Tina? She messaged you after the murder, yes?”

“On the Sunday before we found Ruby. You already know that.”

“What exactly did she say?”

“Just that she was heading to Florida for a while.”

“And did you hear from her again?”

“Look, we weren’t close. She was more of a casual acquaintance, and⁠—”

“Don’t try to distance yourself, jackass. You’re in this as deep as the rest of us.”

“I’ve been helping, haven’t I? I even traipsed through the woods looking for a body.”

“And you whined the whole time.”

“Justifiably. Now I can’t sleep from seeing that poor girl. And do you know how many reporters have called about the Justin thing? My voicemail is full, and Ava had to hire a temp just to help with answering the phones.”

“My heart fucking bleeds. We need to find Tina, so start racking your tiny little congressman brain to work out where she could be.” Jez’s phone chirped, signalling another call. “And speaking of finding women, who was the blonde who picked up Justin in the bar in DC?”

“How should I know? She didn’t pick me up.”

“Not that night, she didn’t. But your bedpost has so many notches that you’re sleeping on a futon, and you can name every loose woman in the DMV.”

“Old news. Ava cleaned up my act, and my little black book is more of a Post-it note now. Two brunettes, one blonde, and the blonde is bumming around on a yacht in the South of France this month.”

“Tell me the yacht doesn’t belong to her wealthy husband?”

“I could tell you that, but you get prissy when I lie.”

For fuck’s sake. “What was the name of the bar? I’ll get Alexa to check for cameras.”

“There are no cameras at Bar Sixty-Seven. Why do you think so many rich assholes go there?”

Ugh. “You’re a lost fucking cause, Grey. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Can’t wait. Justin’s hookup wasn’t a natural blonde, by the way. That much was obvious.”

Grey hadn’t always been such a douche. In the beginning, when he’d been collateral damage in his parents’ divorce, temporarily estranged from his parents, and living away from home for the first time, he’d been pretty personable and mucked in with everyone else. But the longer he’d spent hanging out first with political science majors and then with lawyers, the more supercilious he became. Jez missed the old Grey. When he ran for office, he said he wanted to change things for regular people, but he wasn’t one himself anymore.

Jez answered Priest’s call, and he wasn’t a regular guy either. He’d spent time in special forces, first in the military, and then in a unit called the Horsemen that had been a precursor to the point teams. He’d tried retiring, supplementing his surfing habit with the occasional contract hit, but he’d grown bored with sitting on the beach all day and agreed to get the Choir off the ground. A one-year contract turned into something more indefinite, and now he spent his time wrangling a cadre of gun-toting women and bitching about it constantly. Besides surfing, his hobbies included flying airplanes, playing poker, and marrying random women, then getting divorced three weeks later.

“Give me some good news.”

“Black’s genetic genealogist has agreed to help with those samples.”

Before moving into the private sector, Charles Black had been another of the Horsemen, and despite being a billionaire, he played an active role in the security company he part-owned. Plus he’d married a loose cannon ten years his junior who ran the “special projects” team and broke even more rules than we did.

“Will they be discreet?”

“He wouldn’t have recommended her otherwise. Her name is Valerie Jenest, and I’m sending her contact details.”

“Any idea how long it’ll take?”

“Could be a week, could be a year.”

“That long?”