“This is Beau Hendrickson, and I’m looking for Devyn Scott. She was there speaking with a client of yours, Neil Simpson.”
“Yes, I remember,” she says, her voice sounding tinny and far away. “Visiting hours ended half an hour ago, but I didn’t see her leave.”
“You’re sure she’s not still there?” Beau asks, his voice steady.
My hand starts to shake, and I set my phone on McAllister’s desk so I don’t drop it.
“No. Mr. Simpson is scheduled for nightly group therapy after visiting hours. No one is allowed to be here then.”
“Thank you,” Beau says and hangs up.
He meets my eyes and reaches for my phone. He disables the speaker and mumbles, “Talia. Tell Mack to drive you to my penthouse. Now.”
“What happened to Devyn?” Talia cries, an ear-piercing wail the phone doesn’t need to be on speaker for me to hear. “I’m not leaving her!”
“Rick’s going to find her, I promise. I’m going to meet you at the penthouse and stay with you until Rick’s got her. We’re talking to someone who knows where she is. Do this, please, love. Don’t go in there looking for her. She’s not there.”
Her voice is so garbled with tears I can’t hear what she says.
“Thank you. Hang up now and go. Mack will stay with you until I’m there.”
Talia hangs up without saying goodbye, and Beau tosses my phone back to me.
He steps away from McAllister’s cubby, then toward me, unsure.
“Go. She needs you.”
“Do you need help?” he asks, and I can see on his face how much it cost him.
“No. I have someone right here who will be a big help, won’t you, McAllister? Where does Everett and Stevie do their business? Where would they have taken Devyn?”
Beau doesn’t stay to listen to the answer.
“I don’t know,” McAllister whines.
“The fuck you don’t. Tell me where they took her!” I stand from my chair, and I swear to God, if he doesn’t tell me what I need to know, I will kill him, just like he helped kill my men.
“They used to do all their business from Stevie’s warehouse on 120thand Pike. She kept some candy there, but what she really did was distribute Sweet.”
“Jesus Christ.” Devyn was telling me the truth. “Get up.”
“But they don’t use that place anymore. She built a new warehouse off the Ventura exit on Highway 65, south of here. She and Everett have been using that as a home base since your girlfriend was snooping around the first time.” He blinks at me through smudged eyeglasses.
“Get the fuck up. You’re coming with me.” I yank him by the scruff of his collar and drag him out of his cubby.
At the last second, he flails for a jacket hanging from a hook on the wall, and I let him grab it. He won’t be of any use to me if he’s too frozen to talk.
His truck is parked in the staff parking lot, a huge grey extended cab with an extra-long box. If he’s trying to make up for something, I feel sorry for his wife.
“Hurry up,” I bark when he fumbles the keys.
McAllister unlocks the doors with his fob, and I let him drive.
As he navigates the roads of Cedar Hill, he casts me furtive glances. I want to call the cops, but I have no proof and if Stevie and Everett hear us coming, they’ll close ranks and I won’t find out what I need to know.
I rub my forehead. “Why would you do this?” I ask as the city lights grow sparse along the highway. Stevie was smart to set up a new storage facility on the outskirts of the city. 120thAvenue and Pike is too crowded for her to have any privacy.
“Not all of us are fucking rich, Mercer,” McAllister says, gunning past an older couple out for a Sunday drive two days too early. “OSHA pays shit, working for the government is a joke. Everett made it worth my while, and I took it.”