The Crooked Street

18

The man in the charcoal-gray BMW watched Frost Easton drive away. He didn’t follow the Suburban. Instead, he opened the glove compartment of the car and pushed a button that released a false bottom. Inside was a cell phone. He powered it up and used the latest contact number to call in his report.

“Identification,” the woman answered with her usual clipped, assured voice.

“Sutter,” he said.

“Password.”

“87126.”

“Status.”

“Golden Gate.”

“Report,” the woman said.

She always wanted a clean update. Quick, focused, no unnecessary details, no speculation. His job was to say what happened. After that, the information got passed along, and it was up to Lombard to make the decision.

“Easton went from Mr. Jin’s place to the girl’s house. Fawn. He met with her sister.”

“Did you have ears on the conversation?”

“Yes.”

“What did the sister tell him?”

“Most of the conversation was harmless, but she mentioned Fawn’s interest in an earlier victim. Easton tied the reference back to LaHonda Duke. He knows she was one of the snakes.”

“That’s unfortunate,” the woman said.

“There’s more. Easton just talked to Coyle, and Coyle made a connection between Fawn and Alan Detlowe.”

“Let me hear the conversation.”

The man took his voice recorder out of his coat pocket. He held the machine up to the phone and played the most recent digital recording.

When it was over, there was a long pause from the other end.

“Hang on,” the woman told him.

He waited. At least five minutes of silence passed. He knew not to hang up. The silence meant the woman was passing the information directly to Lombard and soliciting instructions.

Finally, she came back on the line.

“That’s all for now,” the woman said.

“Do you want me to follow Easton again? He’s obviously heading to Coyle’s.”

“No, you’re done for the night, so you can stand down,” the woman told him. “We need to keep the field clear for Geary. He’ll be delivering two snakes tonight.”