Page 38 of Rogue Survivor
“I ain’tthatmuch of a dick,” he mutters. “Even if you deserve it. But give me a little credit. If there’s a major development, I’m gonna call you.”
My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and once AJ dons his hat, I check the screen. “It’s Zephyr. She ID’d the guy who tried to kill Veronica in the hospital. His name’s Danny Wilbur. Milton arrested him for possession a few years back, but he got off on a technicality. Sendin’ you all the info she found on him.”
With a few taps, I transfer the file, and AJ forwards it to one of his guys. “If we’re lucky, he’ll be in custody within the hour.”
“Lucky? Have you ever drawn the best bull?”
AJ chuckles. “Not since I met my wife. But you’re gettin’ cozy with Isabel. That seems pretty damn lucky to me.”
Lights flicker as we move through the dilapidated building. The girls were held in an old Top Shot sporting goods store, and when we get close, we both draw our weapons. Luck can change on a dime.
The space is silent save for the buzz of the fluorescents, and once we’ve cleared the front and back rooms, AJ points to a messy corner covered in print dust. “Mitzi and Veronica were both fingerprinted as part of someStranger Dangercampaign when they were in middle school. That covers more than half of what we found. The others weren’t in the system.”
“Whose system? You able to search outside your own database?”
“Austin PD gives us access. But that’s it.” He pulls off his hat and runs a hand through his dark brown hair. “If you can pull any strings with the Bureau—”
“I was thinking of something a little less…official.”
AJ narrows his eyes at me. “You do that, you’re on your own. Don’t tell me about it, don’t leave any trace of it on anything you send me, and for the love of God, don’t say a word about it in front of any of my unit. You shouldn’t even behereright now, but I can explain that away if I have to. Anythin’ more? I’ll be up shit creek without a paddle.”
Nodding at the half-dozen sets of clear prints around the space, I don’t say a word, and AJ huffs out a breath. “Gotta check somethin’ in the back room.”
As soon as he’s out of sight, I snap as many pictures as I can before his heavy steps warn me to put my phone away. I’m about to stand up when I see a broken piece of plastic sticking out from under a dented set of shelves. No text or markings, but along one jagged edge of the beige triangle, a metallic sliver glints in the light.
Tucking it into my pocket, I clear my throat. “Ain’t nothin’ useful here. Any issue with me checkin’ out the scene of the car accident?”
AJ frowns, staring at me like he knows I’m guilty of something, but he can’t figure out what. After a beat, he shakes his head. “Nope. Knock yourself out. As soon as we find Officer Milton—still can’t believe the damn fool used his real name at the hospital—or Danny Wilbur, I’ll call you. Until then, stay out of trouble.”
He makes a big show of locking and re-sealing the door with a fresh sticker once we’re outside. Rolling down the window of his truck, he peers down at me. “You be careful, Connor. The Bureau can’t protect you anymore.”
He’s right, even if I don’t want to admit it. Getting the prints was worth the shit he gave me, but I can’t win for losing. Just one more reminder that I’m a washed-up has been with no official authority to help anyone.
A ten-minute walkfrom the mall, I understand why the assholes chasing Veronica couldn’t get to her once she’d been hit by the car. The highway gets a shitton of traffic—even in the middle of the day. It’s a risk—thinking no one’s going to care that a man with an obvious limp is traipsing through the overgrown blue bonnets planted in the median—but dammit. She had her phone with her when she ran.
It’s probably in pieces all over the highway by now. Tiny fragments of metal and glass scattered to the wind. But as far as I know, AJ and his team didn’t search the area. A few pieces of gauze caught in the greenery lead me to where the EMTs worked on the kid before transporting her to the hospital. If the phone’s anywhere, it’s further down the road.
I cover a full half mile before I give up and turn around. Nothing. Until the sun glints off something on the other side of the road. It’s only a few inches from the white line, and when traffic clears enough for me to cross, I can’t contain my triumphant “hot damn.”
The phone’s still in its sparkly purple case, and while the screen’s mostly gone—I can see the battery’s logo through the missing glass—maybe Zephyr will be able to work a miracle.
Chapter Fifteen
Connor
Since I can’t talk openlywith Zephyr in front of Billings and McGrath, and I still have three hours before the best BBQ joint in Austin opens for dinner, I head back to my apartment.
Once I’m on the couch with an ice pack over my knee, I prop my tablet next to me and call Zephyr.
“About time,” she says, splitting the screen before I can even say hello. “Meet Officer Walter Milton. Thirty-three years old, graduated middle of his class at the police academy, and has been written up for racial profiling, abuse of power, and reckless discharge of a firearm.”
“Well, he’s on a first name basis with the bottom of the deck.”
Zephyr leans closer to the camera. “I know those words are all English, but hell if I can figure out what they mean.”
With a chuckle, I shift the ice pack slightly. “You grow up in Texas, you pick up some rather…unique phrases. Just means he’s a piece of shit.”
“Now that one I understand.” She tucks a lock of teal hair behind her ear and rests her elbows on her knees. “He transferred to the Austin PD from Dallas six months ago. And Connor? You’re going to want to prepare yourself for this next bit.”
