“I do if you want specific information.”

She huffs, tapping her index finger nail against the scratched surface of the table between us. “Fine. Rebel buys girls. He buys them and then they disappear. No trace. We know he’s heavily involved in human trafficking. We know he’s murdering those women. We just don’t know where, and we don’t know how. Given your recent involvement in trying to find Dr. Romera’s sister, I’d have thought perhaps you might just give a shit about these women.”

So she’s heard the same rumors I heard about Rebel. Believes the same things I believed before I met the guy. I know the truth now, though; Rebel aided and funded the relocation of broken women who were being sold as sex workers. He didn’t murder them; he helped them.

“Tell me again, what does DEA stand for, Agent Lowell?”

“Are you being fucking smart?” Lowell spits.

“No, not at all. I’m just wondering why the Drug Enforcement Agency…that is what it stands for, right? Why the Drug Enforcement Agency are involved so heavily in a case that doesn’t involve drugs, as far as I can see.”

“You don’t need to worry about the paperwork, Zeth. All you need to worry about is assisting me in my inquiries, and that way maybe, maybe, I’ll cut you a deal so you won’t have to spend quite as long back in fucking Chino, getting served on a nightly—”

“Do not threaten me.” Lowell instantly falls silent. Maybe it’s the look of cold rage on my face, or maybe it’s the clear warning in my voice, but either way the bitch shuts her mouth. It’s the smartest thing she’s ever fucking done. “I tell you what’s going to happen. You’re going to organize the clean slate you were supposed to have arranged for my girl when she went to meet you in that mall. And then you’re gonna get it signed. You’re going to bring it back here, and you’re going to put it in my hand, and then I will tell you everything you need to know about Rebel.”

“You really think you’re in a position to be making demands—”

“And if you don’t do this,” I say, lowering my voice, “you will have to release me in forty-eight hours due to the fact you have no evidence to bring charges against me. And when I get out, Agent Lowell, I will be a very irritated man.”

“Oh, are you threatening me now?” Lowell asks. Her face has gone white, but there are two small red splotches burning angrily in the center of her cheeks.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Just talking about my feelings. My counselor back in Chino said it was a good idea to share them every once in a while.” She should never have brought up sending me back to that fucking prison. The very mention of that place is enough to darken my mood to fucking pitch-black degrees.

Lowell knows, despite my denial, I most definitely was fucking threatening her. She must be able to see the threat clear as day in my eyes. “Tell me what you’ll give me and I’ll consider your offer,” she says.

“I’ll tell you where the girls have gone. I’ll tell you who kidnapped them in the first place. I’ll tell you where the Widow Makers’ clubhouse is.”

“You must think we’re idiots. We already know where their clubhouse is, Zeth.”

“I’ll tell you when they’re going to be there. And I will also tell you where you can find the body of Charlie Holsan.”

That has her attention. “Holsan’s dead?”

“So I hear. Can’t confirm that, of course. Just what I’ve heard on the grapevine.” I can see she’s interested; I know I’ve got her. Now for one last little thing to sweeten the deal. “While we’re at it, I’ll give you the locations of every single one of Holsan’s cutting shops. You could actually seize some drugs while you’re there. Might make that paperwork you told me not to worry about a little easier to file, right?” I know as well as she does those missing girls aren’t within her jurisdiction. The Feds should be all over that case. I imagine they would be if they knew about it, which means Lowell’s kept it from them. This is personal for her.

She smiles that sour smile of hers, nodding, eyes fixed on the table. “You give me that and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Paperwork first, Denise, and then we’ll talk. And in the meantime, how about you get me some food and a nice cup of tea? I’m a little hungry, y’know?”

Five long seconds pass while Lowell glares at me with the intensity of a burning sun. She can’t say no. She wants to—nothing would bring her more pleasure than to toss my ass in prison and throw away the key—but with the shitty hand she’s been holding since the moment we walked into this room, she knows she has no other option but to comply. She rises to her feet, mumbling under her breath. The video camera gets switched off.

“I’ll get you your paperwork, Mayfair, but I swear, if you don’t give us everything we need, I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.”

“Fair.”

“And Ernie…Ernie had better be okay, you motherfucker.”

“Oh, I forgot about Ernie.” I smile, feeling a perverse sense of pleasure in what I’m about to say. “We’ll be keeping Ernie, Denise.”

******

I have three folded pieces of paper in my back pocket, burning through my jeans, when I walk up the steps to The Regency Rooms. I feel light. Really fucking light, like I could float away if I’m not careful. The only thing anchoring me to the sidewalk is the persistent memory of Lacey. I see it every single time I close my fucking eyes. The briefest of moments when she spoke to me before she died. “You gave me your best. You’re the only one who ever did.”