Yaritza took a long beat before responding, making sure she had heard
right. “Killing deadbeat dads,” she repeated slowly.
“Right.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Nic.”
“I know, it’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“Sure is.”
“But I think that’s what they’re up to. You know I think the firm has
hired assassins, just didn’t know for what. I know, I have no evidence to
support this. I have to get to that safe deposit box Roman Wells mentioned.
Maybe that will give the evidence I need. And Wells did mention that this
Project Stalk was something scary.”
“A lawn firm killing deadbeat dads, Nic? I think you’re off on this.
Maybe they have hired thugs or something, but assassins to kill dads is way out
in left field.”
“Maybe I am in left field. It’s just something in my gut, and it’ll stay
there until I’m convinced otherwise. My nature, can’t control it.”
“What convinces you?”
“They’re a family law firm, right?”
“Right, and they do a lot in this town to help families. They’re high-profile.”
“And that’s why it wouldn’t make sense to kill people.”
“Exactly. Plus, Mark Robertson wasn’t a deadbeat dad.”
“According to?”
“Nikea.”
“I don’t think she’s very credible right now.”
Yaritza shrugged. “Maybe, but we don’t have anything to go on to refute
it either.”
Nic sighed in frustration. “You don’t believe me on this, do you?”
“You’re a good tracker, right?”
“I prefer to think I’m great.”
Yaritza smiled warmly. “Great, then. Does being a tracker relate to
skills of deduction in terms of being a detective?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you have enough clues to make that inference of killing deadbeat
dads?”
He frowned in thought for a moment, then shook his head slowly. “Long
shot hunch, huh?”
“Call it keeping an open mind to possibilities. I like the spitballing,
though, tells me that you think.”
Nic grinned. “I’ll drop it for now, then. You have Nikea’s parents’
number?”
“Your really think it’ll be useful?”
“Maybe, maybe not. I just need to check every angle if I’m going to find
her.”
She got up and went into the kitchen, bringing out a metal file box.
Opening it, she pulled out a piece of paper, then handed it to Nic. He pulled
out his cell phone and dialed it. Yaritza watched as he had a puzzled look for
a moment. He redialed and listened again, then had a smile. He hung up and
looked at her. “You’ve been played.”
“What?”
“Listen.” Nic redialed and handed the phone to her. She listened to a
short series of beeps and clicks, almost inaudible. Finally, after about ten
seconds, the ringing started. She hung up the phone and shook her head. “I
don’t understand.”
“You ever get called by a telemarketer?”
“Of course.”
“What do you usually notice about them?”
“They annoy me at mealtime.”
“Besides that?”
She thought about it. “A lot of them have a
short pause before someone talks to me.”
“Like what you just heard?”
“Maybe.”
“What we just heard was a little more complicated than a telemarketer.
Being a bounty hunter, you learn a few things in tracking, and when people
don’t want to be found, they can get really creative.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t know if Nikea’s parents are alive or dead or whatever, but
that definitely isn’t their number. It’s a complicated forwarding device.”
“All right, now we have to figure out who answers it.”
Nic held up a finger. “Not yet. We do have a starting point, at least.”
“Why not yet?”
“Because I need to look into the safe box key first. I’ve put that off too
long already.”
“You really think you’ll find the right one?”
“My goal for the end of tomorrow.”
“And the next day?”
“To find Mrs. Robertson.”
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