Page 30 of Toy

“I know. So let’s talk it through again. From the very start. What time did you first realize something was wrong?”

I pulled out my cell and looked at the time stamps on Jolie’s texts. “At 5:49,” I said. “That was when she messaged me.”

Beck nodded slightly. “Right. So she said she was in trouble?”

“No. She texted me to say she’d figured out who the snitch was. It wasn’t Martha, by the way. I forgot to tell you that.”

“You sure?” She raised her brows.

“Positive. Anyway, Jolie messaged me saying she knew who it really was. My phone said she was typing more, and then it suddenly stopped. I tried calling after that, because it’s not like her to leave me in suspense, but her phone was off.”

I handed my phone over, and Beck looked at the texts and frowned. “So she didn’t actually say who the snitch was?”

I sighed. “Nope. She’s one of those people who texts in separate lines, instead of sending a whole paragraph at once.”

She snorted. “Her and every other person under the age of thirty.”

“Yeah, well, it’s probably good she types like that, because it meant I could tell she was in trouble right away. She wouldn’t say something as big as that and then decide to keep me dangling in suspense while she went and dusted the apartment or something.”

“No, of course not.” She tilted her head to the side. “So you went home after that?”

I nodded. “Yeah. The drive back probably took around twenty-five minutes. Maybe a little more. Traffic was fucking shit.”

“So you got back somewhere around six-twenty,” Beck said, scribbling the time on a notepad.

“Yes. I found the place ransacked. Shit smashed everywhere. Blood, too, but not a lot. It looked like Jolie cut her hand or arm on a broken glass.” I frowned. “There was a shoeprint too, in some of the blood. Only a partial one, but I’d say it was a man’s shoe, judging by the size. There was also a small kitchen knife on the counter. It had some blood on it. I think he used it to cut her, so there might be prints on it, unless he wiped it down.”

“Uh-huh.” Beck kept her gaze on the notepad as she took down everything I said.

“The neighbor also saw a tall blond guy lurking around the building about half an hour before Jolie was taken.” I hesitated and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know if any of this is helpful.”

“It might be,” she said with an encouraging nod. “At this point, anything we can get is useful, no matter how small.”

I grimaced. “I just wish I knew who Jolie was talking about in that text. The real rat. If we could find him or her, then we’d have a shot in hell at finding the cult, but we keep getting knocked back to square one.”

“Too bad it wasn’t Martha, I guess.” Beck’s lips tightened again. “You have absolutely no idea who it could be?”

“Nope.”

“Hm. Okay.” Beck chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment, tapping the tip of her pen against the paper. Then she looked up at me. “Remind me… why exactly did Jolie think it was Martha?”

“Because Martha overheard us talking about our plan the day before the raid,” I said. “Jolie saw her out—”

I stopped abruptly as several puzzle pieces slid around in my brain before falling into place with heavy clicks.

“Mason?” Beck leaned forward, one eyebrow quizzically arched.

“I know what Jolie figured out,” I said slowly, my pulse racing with excitement. “I know who it was.”

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