Page 100 of The Twins
“Much better.” He nodded. “They’ve slept, they’ve eaten, showered. Yeah, I think they’ll be able to make decisions about what they want to do soon.”
“Go back to Romania?” I asked.
“The two that don’t speak English, yes, but Sorenna…I’m not so sure.”
“Why not?” Mitch asked.
“Her homeland is not a good place for her.” Jamie frowned. “But that’s not my story to tell.”
“But she’s told you, Jamie,” Mitch said and raised his eyebrows. “Right?”
“Some of it, yes.” His jaw tensed, and I knew he wouldn’t say more. He was good at keeping secrets. He had to be. He took money from his family’s deep pot of gold to fund us when things got tricky financially and he still sat around the dinner table with them and acted as though butter wouldn’t melt.
Andrew stood and paced. “So was there anything else on the phone that might give us a lead to the other dealers? If Bateman knew Candy Floss, maybe he knew them. Maybe they are on his phone waiting for us to call and track them down.”
“That would be convenient,” I said, “we can set up a sting.”
“I’ve compared all the numbers with Ranson’s phone, he had a lot,” Jamie went on. “And there are eight that match. They’re on both phones so perhaps…”
“That could be a good lead,” I said. “Which is what we need.”
“You called them?” Cillian asked.
“No, I wanted to see what you all thought first before I gave them a number they hadn’t seen before. Might spook them into getting another burner.”
“Fair enough,” Mitch said.
“Yeah, call them,” Andrew said, his mouth flattening. “Let’s see what we can get.”
“So what do I say?” Jamie said. “Can I order a woman? Blonde, big tits, please?”
“Yeah, I’d say so.” Phil cracked his knuckles. “Should do it.”
“No,” Andrew said. “That would make them suspicious, there must be a code word or some kind of slang they use.”
“Might be in a message somewhere on those eight numbers,” Dalton said. “Why don’t we run a track on them, see if we get anything useful.”
“I doubt a track will come up with anything, but yeah, let’s do that,” Mitch said. “Send them over to me, Jamie, I’ll get to it, the police database digs deeper into encrypted stuff than these online tools.”
“Will do.”
Andrew’s phone beeped. He picked it up, and his lips tightened.
“Problem?” Dalton asked.
“I need to go.” Andrew stood, scraping the legs of his chair on the floor.
“You do?” Cillian took his glasses off. “Now?”
“Yeah.” Andrew stepped away. “We’re done here, and I’ve got a question to ask a guy who isn’t going to want to say yes.” He stomped to the door, pulled it open. “Wish me luck.” He slammed it closed behind him.
The sound echoed around the room.
I chuckled, and Mitch and Jamie followed suit, the atmosphere instantly lifted.
* * * *
Six Days Later
