Page 60 of Her Wolf

Duncan was on the move.

Kane opened an internet browser window, and logged into the portal that allowed him to track Duncan’s car.

It was a pity Zachary West hired such idiots to work for him. Then again, good help was scarce when you were hiring criminals.

The man’s garage door had been closed, but not locked and, the same night Kane had gone to replace the listening device, he’d also planted a tracker on Duncan’s car.

The man had gone nowhere of interest — MacDonald's didn’t count — since then. But now he headed in a different direction.

Duncan stopped a few minutes later. Kane looked up the address in Google Maps, and zoomed in to street view, rotating until he was facing the building where Duncan had parked.

A costume shop.

Strange and stranger.

Kane pulled the tab free and made it a little smaller, opening a new tab to the side so he could monitor the man’s movements while he browsed one of his favorite online stores. Spies-r-us was the most infantile name they could have come up with, but fuck did they have some decent equipment on their digital shelves.

It didn’t take Kane long to find what he was looking for. As always, the gadget shop’s vast selection of equipment impressed him.

He went to check out, and fumbled in the pocket of the jacket hanging over the back of his chair until he found the hooker’s credit card.

Mindy…had that been her name? The card belonged to M Decker, so it possible.

A hooker using her real name.

What a shame.

She had been pretty, if thick as a two-by-four. And he’d been right — she’d been waiting for her pimp to collect his money. There’d been over three grand on her, and two credit cards. This one looked brand new, so he hoped there was credit on it.

Kane placed his order, and smiled when it went through without a hitch. Same day delivery cost extra, but it was worth the ten bucks.

He had a birthday party to attend tonight. He wasn’t planning on arriving empty-handed.

. . .

Kane tipped his can of energy drink against his lips and took a long sip. He couldn’t taste the vodka inside it anymore, just like he couldn’t taste his cigarette when he dragged at it.

Life had lost its flavor again.

After placing the online order earlier today, he’d decided against calling Fredericks. After all, he might have even more compelling evidence in the next few days.

He’d expected the lengthy email he’d sent to Agent Fredericks at the Albuquerque office to trigger a response. Even if it was just to tell him to hand over his case file and get back to being suspended.

But nothing.

Sonofabitch hadn’t even bothered to read his mail. And he’d know; didn’t matter if Fredericks declined to send a read receipt — Kane used sales software that embedded a tiny, invisible image into the email that could be tracked when it was downloaded, which happened as soon as someone opened the email.

No…Fredericks had to be off sick (not that he knew the man to ever have gone off sick) or dead. Because who the fuck could have resisted his subject line of:

I’m bringing down the ECV Cartel. You want in?

Maybe he’d been too arrogant.

Kane took a drag of his cigarette, and scraped away the edges of the cherry against the butts in his ashtray until only the embers burned bright.

It had been spectacular, setting that poppy field alight. He’d kept his drone in sight of the plumes of pale smoke until he’d almost risked it not returning to him before the battery failed.

No one had investigated.

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