Page 44 of Ground Truth

“That was our take on it. And by the time we got there, he was long gone.” Myer nodded. “We checked the airlines and car rentals but didn’t find him. ’Course, we had no clue what we were looking for, either. Atlanta gets thousands of people through here every day. Like looking for a grain of salt on a margarita.”

“What about Phillip Reed? You interviewed him. Did he give anything up? I just need one thing I can run with here. Someplace to start looking,” Flint said.

Myer eyed him, looked him up and down like an MRI scanner. “This was seven years ago. The case is colder than Siberia in January. You won’t find anything we didn’t already check out. But I’ll share the interview tapes and the rest of the file with you.”

“Great. That would really help,” Drake said, nodding.

“On one condition.”

“Sure, I’d love to take you to dinner. Anytime,” Flint replied with a smile.

She didn’t say no.

“You nail that son of a bitch. Ella Belle was one of the nicest women you’d ever want to meet. Everybody loved her. She was way too young to die. And if that bastard killed her, then he’s going down, too. I’ll see to it.” Myer finished talking, spun on her heel, and stomped into a side door at the station.

“Where’s she going?” Drake asked.

“I suspect she’ll be back in a minute with a copy of the file,” Flint replied, kneading his forehead between his eyes as though he could rub away the pain. His body was quivering with tension like he might actually fall flat on the asphalt.

Flint walked over to the picnic table and leaned against it to steady himself. He’d had concussions before. Like the others, this one would heal itself. All he needed to do was get through it.

He repeated those words to himself several times a day. So far he couldn’t say anything he’d tried was actually helping. His headache was still there. He felt dizzy, nauseous, and weak too often.

Flint had been banged up and sometimes mangled over the years. Scarlett cussed him out about it pretty regularly. But the human body was a miraculous thing. Everything would level out, for better or worse, and when it did, he’d adapt to the new normal.

Question was, how long would it take?

Less than five minutes later, Myer returned and passed a thumb drive to Flint. “I downloaded our entire murder book on here. It’s all we’ve got. Maybe something in there will help you.”

“Thanks.” Flint touched her hand as he collected the warm thumb drive and shoved it into his pocket.

“I’ve got to get back,” Myer said. She gave him a genuine smile as she turned to leave. “Keep in touch.”

“Just one more question,” Flint said before she moved out of range. “Who was the recipient of Ella Belle’s heart?”

Myer stopped and turned her full attention to Flint. “Curious question. Why do you ask?”

“Some of her other organs could have been harvested without killing her in the process. But the heart…” His voice trailed off.

Myer cleared her throat. “If Ella Belle was killed for her heart, then she got the last laugh.”

“What do you mean?” Drake asked.

“Guy who received her heart died anyway. About six months later.”

“So who was he?” Flint asked.

“Those records are confidential. The press tried to dig up the recipients’ names back then and couldn’t. It’s all in the murder book I downloaded for you, but you didn’t get it from me,” Myer said.

“Understood,” Flint promised. “Who got the heart?”

Myer paused another couple of seconds, thinking, and then she made her decision. “There were seven recipients. All of them had been on the transplant lists for many months.”

“Except the one who got Ella Belle’s heart,” Flint guessed.

Myer glanced down and scuffed the dirt with the toe of her boot. “A minor member of the royal family of some Middle Eastern country we’d never heard of. He was very, very rich, I’m told.”

“I see,” Flint replied, shaking his head.

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