Page 22 of Tank

“Don’t know. But we’ve had two fucking complaints against us now. Wire, I need you to see if you can find anything.” Wire nods, taking Remy by the hand and leading her to their control center. “We also have this whole Mira thing. Usually we wouldn’t get mixed up in civilian issues, but that package coming here is a problem. With us on the RGPD radar, we don’t need them turning up when we have a box of fucking human parts on the table.”

Chewy puts her hand up, waiting patiently for Marx to give her the go ahead to talk. He nods in her direction and she shares a look with Pops.

“Speaking of livers, we did our research and we can say that the liver was fresh.”

“How fresh?” Savage asks.

“Less than 24 hours outside of the owner’s body.” She answers confidently.

“Could the livers have been stolen from some place that does transplants or something? Something less messed up than we think?” Nat asks from her seat on the couch, where all the Ol Ladies except Remy and Chewy sit.

“There’s no sign of them being on ice or kept in a cooler and the condition they were in was consistent with the type of degradation that the human body experiences after blood stops pumping.” Pops answers.

“They’re right,” Switch says, agreeing with the Tombs.

“How the hell do they know all this stuff?” Dex mutters under his breath.

“Decomposition was a special interest of ours for a while,” Chewy answers, shrugging a shoulder.

“Mira was going to do a deep dive into her books in case this fucker is a fan and is basing his moves on one of her characters,” Marx says, looking around at us all.

The Tombs brothers step forward and I hadn’t even noticed that August and Jules were here, although I guess it makes sense. Now they’re back from whatever secret mission they were on, they’ve been here every day since. “Jules met with Flora from Flora’s Buds,” Gus says, tipping his head to his brother.

“Yeah, checked the footage. The perp was clever enough to stay out of full sight of the camera. Any glimpses we got were from behind. No way to do facial rec.”

“I spoke to Flora’s husband, he’s their delivery driver. He said he had no contact with the person who placed the order, and he just does whatever his wife tells him to do,” Gus adds.

“What about whoever took the order?” Rhodie asks, Chomper attached to his chest, his arm slung over Chewy’s shoulders.

“Yeah, about that. Flora is, um, unusual?”

“That’s my mom you’re talking about!” We all spin to the doorway to see Sergeant Davies standing there, a dark look on his face. “But yeah, you’re kinda right in your description.” He lets out a sigh.

“Why the hell are you back? And how much did you hear?” Marx growls, stepping toward him. Fuck this cop has a lot of balls. Or no brains.

“We never got out of the lot because pretty boy here forgot his phone.” He rolls his eyes as Nitro comes ambling in, grin on his face.

“Why the fuck would he need it?” Fox asks, bewildered.

“To call one of you to pick him up?”

“You let him come back to pick up his phone?” Chewy asks, brows pinched in confusion.

“Yeah,” Davies answers.

“He’s letting me sit in the front, too!” Nitro crows.

“You are the worst policeman ever,” Chewy says with a frown.

“Look, we all know the charge is bullshit, but it’s my job to take him in and ask questions and fill out the paperwork. It works in your favor, too. Being seen as cooperative goes a long way with the department. As for how much I heard, that doesn’t matter because my mother called me, found out where I was and wanted me to pass on a message.”

“This whole situation is fucked up,” Flack whispers to Dex who nods back.

“Mama said that the person who placed the order had,” he looks down at his phone, presses a couple of buttons and then reads from the screen, “an orc build, small piggy eyes, hair like the big man from Moana with the magic tattoos that sings and has the voice of a crab.” He looks up from his phone, grins smugly at us, and gestures to Nitro to follow him. The door bangs after him and we hear the asshole’s booming laughter on the other side of the closed door.

We stand in silence trying to figure out what the fuck that even means. Looking toward Jules I ask “Did Flora say that to you too?”

He shakes his head. “No, she told me he was as wide as three rich women’s bouquets and the type of face that invites fists.”

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