Page 70 of Ghostlighted
I blew out a breath, and with the plate number in hand, called the Richdale sheriff’s office. “Hello? Could I speak to Yaz, please?”
“This is Yaz.” Yaz’s voice was an indeterminate timbre—high tenor? Low alto? Not that it mattered.
“Yaz, my name is Maz Amani.”
“Oh.” Their voice warmed. “Ricky’s friend.”
“Yes.” I had to clear my throat because if the cousin network knew about me, that meant that Ricky—or someone else in the massive clan—had talked about me. “I’m about to ask for something that might be a little, well, illegal?”
“You realize you’re speaking to the sheriff’s office, right?” Their careful tone didn’t contain a hint of sarcasm.
“I know. And I’m not sure if this is in your purview or not, and if it isn’t, please say no, but I promise this is something that will help Ricky.”
“Anything I discover outside the investigation won’t be admissible. It could compromise the case.”
“If so, just tell me, and I’ll drop it. But I’m going to give you a Washington license plate number. Could you run it and tell me who the car is registered to and what the address is?”
“Is the car parked illegally?”
“Nnnooo.”
“Is it engaged in illegal activity?”
“Potentially, yes.”
“What’s the number?”
I read it off and Yaz said, “You think this will help Ricky?”
“Pretty sure. Yes.”
“One moment, please.”
I don’t think I breathed for the entire time Yaz had me on hold. Then they were back on the line, and what they told me was a game changer.
Well, except for my desire to punch Liam. If anything, that had escalated.
Ex-po-nentially.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Seattle?” I roared when Avi reappeared next to me in the kitchen. “That douchecanoe lives inSeattle. His car’s been registered there for three years.” No wonder he’d been able to show up in Richdale within a few hours of getting Sofia’s call about the Harvard graduation trip. “Hell, does he evengoto Harvard?”
Avi dodged out of my way as my enraged pacing took me around the island. “Maybe you could find out. There must be a student directory.”
“Yes, but because of privacy issues, you can’t access it unless you’re a student or an alumnus. I found that out during a ghostwriting gig a couple of years ago, and unfortunately, I don’t know any of those.”
Avi set his jaw. “Yes, you do.”
“You? You went to UO. We hung your diploma on the attic wall.”
“Not me. Professor DeHaven.”
I blinked. “Patrice went to Harvard?”
He nodded. “Double major in comparative religion and folklore and mythology.”
A double major from Harvard? This made Patrice even more intimidating, but my fears didn’t matter. Not now.
