Page 53 of Fighting Conviction
A frustrated sigh pushed through the earpiece. “Do you have anything new?”
“No.” Neal fumbled with his excuse. He had no recollection of calling the boss, but it must’ve been for some reason. “I-I was checkin’ in. Seein’ if there’s anything y’all need from me for the, uh, the party.” Neal twisted the empty medicine bottle that still stayed with him. There hadn’t been Zannies inside in a couple of weeks. Now it was where he hid whatever his dealer could offer. For once, Neal was thankful meth was so pervasive in the rural south.
“We have a good lineup of product to choose from—” Neal winced. “Have you gone through the list of applicants? Their backgrounds? We need that information. Another disaster like last year and all of us are through. You need to make sure these ones will not be missed. Obviously the contact we had last time was unreliable so we are depending on you.”
Neal flicked the lighter and watched the flame. Who was the contact last year? He put that on his mental list of things to look into. It was getting rather long, but hopefully he had time.
“I asked you a fucking question. When I ask a question, I expect a fucking answer you fucking idiot.”
“I-I haven’t finished it yet. But I’ll get to it, I swear.”
The man on the other end sounded like he was cursing in his language. “Burgess, if you fuck this up, it will be your ass up for the next auction. If you think what these buyers do to women is bad, you do not want to know what they will do with a useless, fat, old junkie. These men have fucking islands. I would hate to imagine what they do with all the product they collect. I am sure they get creative, though.”
Neal gulped, nearly choking on fear. “I understand.”
“Good. And by the time of the party, I would bet money the BlackStone group figures something out. But have someone to help make sure we can get past them this time. I am getting pressure from the boss to change the location, drop, and time, but I think we have planned better this year and there is more involved here than the Ashland County operation.”
Sweat pricked his brow as the information burned his conscience. Helping a human trafficking operation went against everything he ever stood for, but he was in too deep. And he needed them. At least he was shoring up ammo to fire back if he ever needed to. Police raids had taught him it was always good to have a backup plan.
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Keep using your excellent investigative skills.” The man on the other side laughed harshly and Neal’s face scrunched up in confusion.
Why is he laughing?
“I-I can do that. But is there not anything else you want me to do? I mean, for the scholarship party?”
“Get us that fucking information like I asked you weeks ago, you idiot. Why have you not—” The man sighed and groaned. There was an awful long pause before the Russian spoke again in an almost cordial tone. “You know what? I have an idea. Follow through on getting us that information and I’ll have Vlad ready an exchange for you. How about that? I understand you have changed your drug of choice? We can get that for you. High grade too. Better than what our own dealers have.”
Neal’s fingers twitched on his lighter as he glanced around for the spoon and dwindling baggy he’d just used. He hated giving up the background information of potential victims, but maybe nothing bad would even happen. Maybe if they got the information, they’d see the women weren’t good fits for the operation. Maybe he could even alter the information to make that happen.
He searched the side table next to him. The bag had somehow gotten lost in the tissues and newspapers he’d strewn about. Lately every time he got home he laid whatever he was carrying on a random side table or on the ground, needing to get to his chair as soon as possible to light up and get his fix.
The place was a mess. Even worse than usual. Cici would have a fit. He fingered the small, almost empty plastic next to him. He had no choice. The evidence room was out of the question. For some reason they’d made policy harder recently to get inside without a reason, a monitoring officer, or an evidence deposit.
The man on the other end went silent and Neal once again grew scared he’d accidentally hung up.
“I have to get off the phone, I cannot sit here on the other side while you jerk off doing what the hell you do in your own time. I need an answer, Burgess. If I cannot depend on you, then—”
“Alright… I’ll get the information. Backgrounds, next of kin, and homelife, right?”
“Yes, those things and anything else you might find of importance. I cannot stress to you enough how crucial this is. We need to get this to the buyers as soon as possible for their perusal.” Sweat ran down Neal’s face and he wiped it off with the back of his hand before drying it on the upholstery. “If you fuck this up, you know what you will be to me? A loose end. Do you know what happens to loose ends in my world, Burgess?”
“U-um… no, sir?”And I don’t want to know.
“They get cut.”
Chapter Twenty
“Look alive, Ellie.”
Ellie blocked the blow at the last second but Dev still clipped her in the ear with the mitt, making it sting. They’d been training for a month and he still got the drop on her ninety-nine point nine percent of the time.
“Ugh.” She backed away and rubbed at her ear, but Dev closed the gap, coming at her with the pads again. “Dev, stop, I need a break.”
“No breaks, El. We don’t have much time left in this session. Try to finish strong. If you’re up against somebody, they won’t stop and wait for you to lick your wounds before they stab you again.”
“Blech.” Ellie grimaced and stuck her tongue out in disgust. “God, how morbid.”
