Page 108 of Devil and the Deep Blue Fish

“I fucking beg your fucking pardon?” Every instinct of hatred for organized law enforcement colored his voice, and he realized he was somewhat reassured. He’d been afraid he was getting… conventional or something.

“You heard me,” Ellery replied, steel in his voice. “We’re dropping off Gerald Manning and his partner, Laura Crowder, to come assist you on the search. We get three guys to sit outin front of the property surfing their phones unless they hear suspicious activity.”

“Suspicious activity?” Jackson repeated, feeling dumb. “Like what?”

The insouciance in Ellery’s voice, even over the speaker phone, was telling. “Loud words, disagreements, gunshots….”

“No,” Jackson told him, angry they were even having this discussion. “Absolutely not—”

“Mother’s here with me,” Ellery said, all pleasantness. “Would you like to tell her the same?”

“It’s not necessary—”

“What if there are kids in there, Jackson,” Ellery said. “You knew this was the plan when you left the house this morning.”

Jackson scrubbed at his face with his hand. “It was a stupid plan, and I should be beaten for even letting you think of it.”

“Well, same. Manning can track your phone now.”

“Can he clone it, Ellery?” Jackson asked. “Because….”

He didn’t have to finish that thought to remind Ellery that their phones had the personal numbers of some people who didn’t need to be found.

“No,” Ellery said. “He gave me his word. I’m going to take it.”

“That’sgreat,” Jackson snapped. “Oh, Jackson, what if your new partnerdoesn’tkill you and wants to shag your ass, and by the way, I just met a strange man who may or may notbetray people we gave our word to!” Oh God. So many people. They’dpromised.

“Is this Jackson Rivers?” The new voice on the phone had him exchanging puzzled glances with Cody, who approached to listen with even less shame.

“And this is?” Jackson’s feathers were on permanent ruffle.

“This is Gerald Manning, Special Agent in Charge. I’m leading the investigation into the missing minors and—”

Jackson hung up.

Cody stared at him in surprise as Jackson actively struggled not to chuck his phone across the vast muddy field.

“What was that for?”

The phone rang again, and Jackson punched the Answer key. “You’re in charge of shit,” he said. “Absolute jack shit. Do you understand me? Ellery, can you hear me? Take his phone and throw it out the window!”

“Apologies!” came the almost frantic answer. “I’m sorry, I phrased that wrong—”

“You sure as shit did. You absolutely do not have my permission to track my phone.”

The voice—mature, assured, and obviously used to giving orders—softened. “All I want to do is be able to find you on the field so you don’t have to return to the picnic area in the middle of your search. I’ll sign whatever Mr. Cramer gives me to sign that guarantees your privacy in this matter.”

“Make sure there’s a work order for new phones included for everybody I know so they areneverput in this position again,” Jackson snarled.

“Yikes,” Gerald Manning muttered. “Okay. Absolutely understood. I promise you, Mr. Rivers, all I am interested in is being able to find you in the field.”

Jackson blew out a breath. “Fine. What’s your ETA?”

“About two hours,” Manning told him.

“Pansies,” Cody muttered.

“Put Ellery on the phone.” Jackson ordered, and Cody raised his eyebrows.

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