and just before the Myers girl’s fall. “There is something off with this girl, and I need to find it before anything else happens.”
Falco asked, “You still want me to take that hair sample to the guy I know?”
“Definitely.” Kerri opened the drawer next to the sink and retrieved the plastic bag. She passed it to Falco. “How long do you think your friend will need for the analysis?”
“Twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
Kerri nodded. “As much as I hope my daughter hasn’t been drugged, it would sure explain a hell of a lot.”
“I could do some digging,” Cross offered. “Falco mentioned you could use some help. Do you have a photo of this Alice Cortez?”
“Several.” Kerri reached for her cell, passed it to Cross.
Examining each one closely, Cross went through the photos. Finally, she tapped one. “Send me that one.”
Kerri sent her the photo in a text. “Her uncle working at one of Ms. Taylor’s warehouses could be nothing more than a coincidence. I get that. But it feels like more when I consider all the things about this girl I’ve learned the past couple of days.”
“Think about it,” Falco suggested. “What kind of warehouse employee drives an Escalade and sends his niece to the most expensive private school in the state?”
“There could have been a sizable estate from her parents,” Kerri offered, playing devil’s advocate to her own theory.
“Like I said, I’ll dig around. See what I can come up with.” Cross stood. She seemed unusually agitated. Suddenly ready to go. “If I get anything from the thumb drive, I’ll let you know.”
Kerri walked her to the door. Before opening it, she said, “I really appreciate any help on this thing with my daughter. The whole situation makes me feel helpless.”
Cross nodded. “I’m familiar with that territory. I’ll get back to you soon.”
As Kerri closed the door behind her, she decided not to take Cross’s sudden need to leave personally. The woman wasn’t one to do the “friend” thing. Kerri returned to the kitchen, where Falco was cleaning up. She joined him, drying the big pot she’d used for preparing the pasta and the smaller one she’d used for sauce.
“I know this is hard.” He dried his hands on the towel and tossed it aside.
Kerri exhaled a big breath. “Now I know how Diana felt last year when she couldn’t help Amelia.”
“This is not going to be like that,” Falco assured her.
“You can’t be certain,” Kerri argued. “Look at what Sarah Talley did just today.”
“Tori is stronger than Sarah,” Falco argued.
“I hope so.” In addition to feeling helpless, Kerri felt guilty too. “I should be helping you with the Kurtz investigation. The case is too much for one person.”
“I’ve got this. You keep your focus on Tori and this Cortez girl. There’s something more than adolescent bickering in all this. To tell you the truth, it sounds a whole hell of a lot like plain old murder.”
Her partner was right, and that was the scariest part.
26
10:00 p.m.
Mulligan’s Pub
Sixth Avenue, Twenty-Seventh Street
Birmingham
Mason watched the man enter the pub and survey the place. Darius Washburn spotted Mason and snaked his way through the jam-packed tables and around booths. The place was crowded for a Thursday night.
No surprise. Pauley, the son of a bitch, had always known an Irish pub would do well on this corner.
Washburn pulled out the chair across from Mason and sat. Even in the dim lighting Mason noted the sprinkle of gray at the man’s temples. The first time he’d hired Darius for a job, he’d been twenty-five and fresh out of prison. The man was good, very good. Possibly the best at getting in and out of places and, more importantly, finding things. But there were drawbacks with Darius.
Now that he’d cultivated such a respected reputation for himself, he honored the highest bidder.
Darius ordered his preferred ale and turned his attention to Mason. “You have a job for me?”
The only time they ever met in person was when Mason gave him instructions on a new assignment. Mason didn’t leave trails to be followed. No texts, no calls, no emails. Nothing. Face-to-face. That was the way he conducted this sort of business. It was best for all concerned.
Meeting here, with his daughter just upstairs, was a sort of irony only he understood for now. Perhaps Darius would come to see it later.
“Not at this time,” Mason said. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you’re going to answer.”
Darius smirked but said nothing because the waitress had appeared