Paige rattled off her identification number, the girl at the other end of the phone wrote it down, asked someone else what to do with it, looked it up and then made a quick connection that resulted in a transfer to another phone line.
“Paige? Where have you been? Wait, is this really you?”
“Yeah, Stu, it’s me.”
“Prove it.”
She drew a breath and brought the phone so close to her mouth that she almost ate it. “I already gave my number to the stupid little dimwit you got answering the phones, and if you make me give it out again, I’ll drive to wherever you are and tattoo it onto your face with a piece of broken glass.”
“Whoa! That’s you, all right. Sorry about that, but we’ve had some changes on this end. And please don’t start making comments about my end. I’m kinda in mixed company here.”
Not everyone at MEG knew about Skinners. Most of the organization just chased ghosts and investigated paranormal claims, but the core members were more than happy to provide a communication structure for those who knew where to find the occasional genuine Bigfoot lair. Stu was not only eager to be Paige and Cole’s primary contact, but able to back up that trust with results.
“Have you heard anything from Cole?” he asked.
“I was just going to ask the same thing.”
“If we had, don’t you think we would have called?”
“Yes,” she said earnestly. “What about Rico? Have you heard anything from him?”
“Yeah. Just a little while ago. Sounds like you two got separated. Want me to connect you to him?”
“No. Calling him right now may be dangerous. You know how it is.”
“Yeah,” Stu said, even though he was too far removed to know how anything was.
“Do you know anyone who can pick me up?”
“Any Skinners, you mean?”
“No,” she replied, without worrying whether it was too quick. Rico still hadn’t tracked her down, but that was as comforting as a fuse taking just a little longer than expected to reach the dynamite. “I was thinking more along the lines of one of the MEG branches. You guys have to have an office somewhere in New York, right?”
“Our closest branch is in South Jersey. There’s another bunch of guys covering the East Coast paranormal scene better than us. I could make a call. They don’t know about you, but they’d probably be willing to help you out as a favor to us.”
Paige was going to accept the offer when she thought better of it. Calling the MEG guys was sketchy enough. They were still only observers and phone operators. Bringing anyone else into this mess was just cruel.
“Paige? You still there?”
“Yeah, Stu. I’m just thinking.”
“Let me call the Jersey branch. Don’t you know someone out that way?”
“It’s all right.” Wanting desperately to put him on another track, she asked, “What are you doing in the field? Usually the only time you’re away from the office is to play in one of those Sniper Ranger tournaments.”
“One of our investigators got shoved off a patio. He swears it was a poltergeist that did it, but the guy once tripped over a bump in the sidewalk and broke his wrist. Whatever the reason, I’m taking his place. I love talking to you guys, but going out on real investigations beats the snot out of staring at a computer screen all day.”
“Congrats.”
“Thanks. Everything all right, Paige? You sound upset.”
She fired back with: “Maybe it’s the whole fugitive thing. Or it could have something to do with Cole being in prison. That kind of stuff tends to put a damper on things.”
“Okay, fair enough. Dumb question. Just trying to help.”
There was no way for Stu to help. She felt like an idiot for even thinking MEG could be of any use in this situation, especially when they were purposely kept as far removed from Skinner business as possible. “Do me a favor. Try to find out what you can about Cole. Run a search on Colorado State Penitentiary. Google his name. I don’t care. If you find anything, let me know before anyone else.”
“I can do that, definitely.”
“I’m serious about that last part. No matter who else calls or asks, even Rico, I want to know first.”
“He’s your partner,” Stu replied. “I can respect that.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Paige hung up and faced the stretch of road leading back to I-190. Her ears had picked up the crunch of approaching tires on gravel. Moments before the car came into view, her hand was already wrapped around