“Do you know a Sammy Markson? Also known as—”
“I know all Sammy’s aliases.”
“So you do know him?”
“I helped put him away for his first stint.”
“A few days ago, did you drive a vehicle provided by him from Lexington, Kentucky, to Atlanta?” The woman deputy consulted her small notepad. She read off the make, model, and license plate number of the minivan. “Blue in color.”
Mike scowled. “Why’re you asking?”
“Did you?”
He mulishly held his tongue.
“If you’re unwilling to answer,” said the male deputy, “we’ll have to take you in for further questioning.”
“First, you need to tell me what for, and, if you’re taking me in for an interrogation, once we get there, you must provide me with legal counsel before I say a word.”
“This is an informal interview,” the woman said.
Mike snorted. “We all know there’s no such thing. What’s your probable cause for hassling me?”
The two looked at each other and seemed to come to an agreement. The woman said, “Last night, Sammy Markson was arrested and charged with several counts of grand theft auto.”
That little shit. He was cutting deals with the Fayette County, Kentucky, sheriff’s department.
Mike had notified Sammy that he was coming to Charleston and that he had left the minivan at the Atlanta airport for retrieval at a later date. It had seemed the decent thing to do. He could now kick himself.
The male deputy said, “Markson provided your name as someone who would vouch for him.”
“Vouch that he’s guilty or vouch that he’s innocent?”
“He didn’t specify. Which is our probable cause for hassling you.”
Mike gave a grunt of contempt. “Sammy would sell out his own mother.”
“He did. Late last night. Let’s go, Mr. Mallory.”
“Wait, my friend is—”
“Agent Rudkowski is being kept apprised of Lewis’s condition. By last report, he’s stable. You’ll be notified if he takes a downturn.”
Mike saw no point in arguing with these two, who were merely carrying out their orders. His fight was with Rudkowski. He heaved himself off the love seat and tucked his laptop under his arm. Just then, his cell phone chimed. “May I?”
Again the pair silently consulted each other. The man came back to him. “Make it quick.”
He answered. Drex said, “Rudkowski got to the deputy in Key West. He’s clammed up, and there was no cracking him. We’ve lost that resource.”
Mike sighed. “That’s the good news.”
Drex pitched the phone onto the bar, where it landed with an unheeded clatter. But even before that display of temper, Talia knew that Mike had relayed something Drex hadn’t wanted to hear.
With a sinking feeling, she said, “Bad news about Gif? Please say no.”
“No, he’s still doing okay.”
“Then what?”