“We’re taking my car,” I said, as I jammed the button for the elevator. I wanted my gun.
We took my car, but I let Tyler drive. Not only did he know where Big Charley’s office was, but he was a hell of a lot better at navigating Chicago.
“We know that Amy’s alive,” I said. “Or she was pretty damn recently.” I kicked at the dashboard. “The guy had her call Candy right after I talked with him. Guy’s got serious balls, the fucker.”
“How are we handling this?”
I took my Glock out of the glove box and checked the magazine. Then I pulled the slide back and put one in the chamber. “We can’t get a warrant. I’m not local and there’s no time, anyway. So we’re going to go into his office and politely ask where she is.”
“And if he doesn’t tell us?”
I met Tyler’s eyes. “Then we’ll get nasty.”
Charley’s warehouse was near Destiny, and Tyler got us there at near the speed of light.
“I have the gun,” I said. “So when it gets down to it, you stay behind me.”
“If I’d known our agenda, I’d be armed, too.”
I glanced at him, then shook my head. I should have assumed he’d have a weapon somewhere. “No time to get it now. And we’re starting this party like it’s just a regular business day. Okay?”
“I know what to do,” Tyler said.
There was a buzzer on the front door of the warehouse, and Tyler pressed it, and I was relieved when Big Charley himself answered the intercom. I’d expected to have to deal with staff. But maybe we’d gotten lucky.
“Hey, Charley, it’s Tyler Sharp. I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“Yeah? What kind?”
“The kind I don’t want to discuss by shouting in an intercom. Buzz me in.”
There was a pause, then the door clicked open. We entered a warehouse that resembled a maze constructed of vending machines. Tyler’d been here before, though, and he led us through to the far corner and a dingy office with a cheap wooden door.
Inside, Big Charley sat behind a cheap wooden desk. I caught Tyler’s eye, hoping he could read my mind. I wanted Charley out from behind that desk, because who knew what he had mounted under there.
Tyler took a seat on the ratty sofa, then pulled out his phone. “Got a new gig we’re working,” he said, tapping at the phone. “Come here. I’ve got some photos and specs. Should be lucrative.”
Charley narrowed his eyes and looked at me.
“She’s cool,” Tyler said. “Won’t say a word. Will you, baby?”
“No, sir.”
Charley’s brows rose and he joined Tyler on the couch. “Okay, what do you have?”
“Amy Dawson. Emily Bennett,” I said, watching his face. “It’s not about what we have, but about what you do.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he said, but I’d already seen the truth on his face.
“Where, goddammit?” I said, and this time I aimed the Glock at his chest. “Where are they?”
“I told you, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“I’ll look for keys. Something,” Tyler said, going to his desk. And then, “No keys, but this is interesting.” He raised a 9mm Beretta, then walked over to me.
“Tyler …”
“You know, Charley. This all feels very personal to me. And I think I can be much more persuasive than the lady.”
“Fuck. You.”
“I thought you might say that,” Tyler said, then shot the bastard in the kneecap, making my ears ring.
“Where?” Tyler asked, sounding as though he was at the end of the tunnel. “Tell me now or lose the other.”
“Vault,” Charley said. “Far side of the warehouse.”
“Bring him,” I said to Tyler, as I started toward the door. “It’s probably padlocked.”
Tyler hauled Charley into the rolling desk chair, and we raced across the warehouse, the sick fuck crying and moaning about how much he hurt.