Lockdown

Thirty-five

‘So we had him and we let him go,’ said Ty, pacing to the window of Lock’s living room and faking a punch at his own reflection. ‘If they’ve harmed that kid. .’

Lock sat on the couch, his head in his hands, the tips of his right fingers worrying at his scar. ‘It might not be Cody, y’know.’

‘Ah, come on, Ryan. He knew Natalya, then magically she pops up as Josh Hulme’s nanny.’

‘Au pair,’ Lock corrected him.

‘Whatever.’

‘I guess we should call Frisk. Hand this back over to the Feds. People might not have wanted to cough up Parker when he was the Che Guevara of furry animals everywhere, but this might change his image.’

Lock pulled out his cell from the pouch on his belt. It buzzed in his hand. The prefix was for the Federal Plaza. ‘Speak of the devil.’ He flipped to answer.

‘What the hell are you playing at?’ The voice was unmistakeably that of Frisk.

‘Just the man I wanted to speak to.’

‘The hell with you, Lock.’

‘We know who has Josh Hulme.’

‘That’s great. You know who has his father too?’

‘What?’

Ty read Lock’s face. ‘Wassup?’

Lock waved him away. ‘Richard Hulme is with your guys, isn’t he?’

‘He was until about an hour ago.’

‘What happened?’

‘He left his apartment and now we can’t find him.’