The Beasts of Juarez, R.B. Schow [books to read for self improvement .txt] 📗

you’ll pay me what you’ve promised and on time, then I have something for you, a bit of good news.”

“Oh, for sure, man,” he said, thinking of how those idiots destroyed his car, how the cops might want to talk to him, and how Carly was treating him when she was the one having relations outside of their marriage. “I could definitely use some good news.”

“Those hippies we saw in the photos with Alabama?”

“Yeah?”

“I had a friend of mine really clean up the resolution. She used an AI pixilation program to basically fill in the blanks still left in the photo we managed to get.”

“That’s awesome,” he said. “What a great start.”

“There’s more,” he said.

“Really?”

“That job we did a few years back,” Jackson said, “the kidnapping in Scottsdale with the Marty’s—”

“I remember,” Scotty said while crossing his legs at the ankle and watching traffic go by.

“Well the Fed that was a bit lazy on the case; it turns out he’s into some extrajudicial shenanigans. I realized it then so I’ve been watching him online.”

“What?” he asked, quickly sitting upright on the bench.

“The dude’s not on the level,” Jackson said.

“How so?”

“It’s really bad,” Jackson replied. “Anyway, I have screen grabs of some of the things he’s been looking at but also conversations he’s had with some interesting people online, the kind of conversations you don’t want anyone knowing about, ever.”

“So…”

“I’m getting there. Now that I’ve got the resolution in Alabama’s hippies’ faces all cleaned up, I’m going to squeeze this sack of shit until he bursts. He doesn’t know it yet, but after I get off the phone with you, he’s going to run the photo through their database. And the best part?”

“It gets better?” Scotty asked with a hopeful laugh.

“He’s going to do it all for free,” Jackson said. “All I need for him to get started is for you to send me a picture of my cash.”

“I told you I got you a cashier’s check.”

“Even better.”

When they hung up, Scotty took a picture of the check and sent it to Jackson, suddenly feeling a lot better about the day. Then a thought occurred to him, one that had him dialing Jackson back as quickly as he could.

“Yeah?” Jackson asked.

“When you squeeze this guy, see if you can get a package deal. Last known address, cell phones, drivers’ licenses, cars, the whole shebang.”

“Now that I’ve seen the check,” Jackson said, “I have another confession.”

This should be interesting, he thought. What kind of bomb is he about to drop? “Is it a confession I’m going to like?”

“Hell, yes you’re going to like it,” Jackson laughed. “I wasn’t sure if I could trust you.”

“That’s fair, I suppose. It sucks, but I guess that’s fair.”

“I already squeezed my guy. I’ve been working on Alabama’s case from my house as best as I can. But like you, I ran too low on funds to continue.”

“Man, haven’t we become a sad couple of clichés?”

“Just you,” Jackson said.

Scotty ignored the dig. “So, what did you find?”

“I have names, an address, a phone number—but it’s been disconnected—and plates on a crappy little Hyundai I haven’t been able to verify.”

“Where are they?”

“Baltimore, Maryland.”

Scotty’s wheels were really turning now. They had a lead. Leads! “I’ve got a buddy in Ellicott City, Maryland. He’s the Sheriff there. Let me see if I can have him run the plate, maybe see what he can dig up.”

“Will he do that for you?” Jackson asked.

“If my bad reputation hasn’t spread that far, then yes. We went to the academy together, so I like to think that maybe that helps.”

“Use every advantage you have,” Jackson said.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“I’m texting you the details now.”

“I’ll call you and let you know what I find.”

“All right,” Jackson said. “I want that check the second we meet.”

“For sure,” he said before hanging up.

A rather unattractive woman slow-walked past him, her clothes a little too tight and a little too short, a provocative question looming in her eyes. Scotty looked away, uninterested. He hadn’t realized that prostitution was so out in the open these days. Of course, if asked, she would likely say the same thing he would: COVID drove her to it.

He ignored her as he dialed his friend in Ellicot City. “Howard County PD,” the woman answered.

“I need to speak to Sheriff Davis if he’s available.”

“Who’s calling, please?”

“Scotty Chase.”

“Hold one moment,” she said.

“Scotty, is that really you?” Colton Davis asked the minute he picked up the phone.

“It is,” Scotty replied with a grin. “Can I call you back in a second? I seem to have a bad connection.” He didn’t have a bad connection; he just needed a more private line.

“Yeah,” Davis said, “no problem.”

Scotty called his friend’s private number a moment later. The man answered promptly. “It’s one of those calls, isn’t it?”

“Kinda sorta,” Scotty said, nonchalantly. “I’m working a case that might take me out to your neck of the woods.”

“Howard County?”

“Baltimore proper,” Scotty said.

“What are you working on?” he asked.

“Possible kidnapping. I’m on a shoestring budget, so I can’t just catch a flight out there to check on a last known address.”

“How can I help?”

“I need you to see if a cell phone is active for me. The landline was canceled, but the person might have priors, a probation officer, something like that.”

“Text me the name, the number of the terminated landline, and the last known address. I’ll see what I can find.”

“What do I owe you?”

“A beer and a burger next time I see you.”

“That’s a deal,” Scotty said.

“When do you need this by?” Sheriff Davis asked.

“Yesterday.”

“Okay, I’ll call you back.”

Sheriff Davis called him just over an hour later. By then Scotty’s ass was fully numb, he’d been propositioned by three streetwalkers, spat on by a couple of punks who drove by, then whistled