cars of the past that sounded like pro wrestlers and sucked gas like a sprinter used oxygen.
In other words, it was right up V’s alley.
And by “indent-parallel park,” Butch meant “really-frickin’-close to a plowed mound of snow big enough to ski down.” Ah, winter in Caldwell, New York. Where that white stuff metastasized like it had learned the trick of singularity and was trying to take over the world.
You know, the weather version of AI.
“I didn’t know these cars were good in the snow,” Boone murmured as the trainee eyed that mini-Killington like he wasn’t sure whether he was going to get his car door open.
“Just dematerialize out on my side.”
“Good deal. Thank you.”
Butch got out and held things open. “And as for the R8, Audi quattro works year-round. All you need are good treads. No clearance on that front air dam, though. Two inches, tops, is all we’ve got to work with.”
Of all the trainees, Butch had always liked Boone the best. Maybe it was because the kid was the kind of stand-up, no-fuss, steady-Freddy type that tended to form the backbone of any good team. After all, Butch had always wanted to be that guy himself—and failed spectacularly when he was a human. But finally, after a good three decades of trying to drink away his emotions, he was getting to that goal. All it had taken was the female of his dreams, a jump-started transition into a whole different species, and free rein to express himself sartorially.
But there was another reason he cared about the kid after last night. He couldn’t help but take an interest because he knew all too well what it was like to lose a family member in a bad way.
Boone re-formed on the outside of the R8 and looked around at the abandoned buildings with their broken windows. “Is it safe to leave V’s car here? What if it gets stolen.”
“Full coverage on the insurance.” Butch shut the door. “But more to the point—everyone’s going to assume it’s a drug dealer’s whip. Guaranteed it’ll be right here when we get back.”
Butch hit the lock, and the pair of them fell in side by side at a walk. “You can’t trust anyone on the street, but you can always put your faith in how the street behaves.”
With the cracked sidewalks so not an option because of the piles of snow, they proceeded down the middle of the plowed street. Even though the only going concerns in this part of the city were the drug dealers on the corners and the prostitutes on the straightaways, there was enough through traffic so that the snowpack evened out the potholed asphalt underneath.
“Can I ask you something?” Boone said into the cold.
“Anything.”
“That voice recording. The one that was from the call-in line—was V able to trace the phone number it came in on? I mean, he’s the one who’s so good at that stuff, right?”
“He thinks it was a burner. And if that’s true, we’re not going to find anything out about who owns it or used it unless they answer the damn thing and are willing to talk.”
“And she didn’t leave a name.” Boone laughed in a hard burst. “Okay, that’s a stupid thing to say, I guess. Because I didn’t hear a name on the message.”
“Tell me what you did hear.”
“She was scared. She was really scared.”
“What else?” As Boone recited the message word for word, Butch nodded. “Yup, you got all that right. But what about the background?”
“Like when the call came in?”
“No, of the call itself.” Butch glanced over. “What did you hear.”
The trainee frowned. “Nothing—” Those dark brows lifted. “Ohhhh. So she didn’t call from the club. If she had, we would have heard the music and the crowd around her.”
“Exactly. And V told me that he had no service on the lower level of that old factory—so it’s a good guess that whoever called in also didn’t have a signal down there.”
“She must have phoned from outside the building, then.”
“Or maybe she wasn’t there at all.”
“What do you mean?”
Butch looked both ways as they crossed the street even though there were no cars around. “Confirmation bias is a dangerous thing when you investigate a case, especially in the beginning. The truth needs space and airtime to reveal itself. The only way to make sure that happens is to let your brain and your senses record every nuance while at the same time you resist your rational side’s desire to come to