Quinn explains that she’s yet to give her statement. Travis is stuck behind bars until they’re given the full background of the situation. It leads us to the question of the hour—who shot David?
First we need to arrange for my brother’s release. That means springing Quinn from the hospital and taking her to where he’s being held. After handling the paperwork, we’re outside within the hour. Quinn and I wait by the entrance while Evie gets the car and brings it around.
“Mac,” Quinn croaks and clears her throat. “I’ve just realised I left my phone on the counter where we signed the release papers. Would you mind ducking in to get it for me?”
I roll my eyes at her forgetfulness. After commanding her to stay put, I go inside to look for it, but it’s nowhere to be found.
When I walk back outside, Quinn is nowhere to be found either. Evie is standing alone by the car waiting for us. “Where’s Quinn?”
“I don’t know,” she replies. “I thought she was with you?”
“Did you see her at all?”
Evie shakes her head. “No?”
My gut twists. Something isn’t right. I jog away from the entrance and scan the parking lot that stretches out in front of us. “Quinn?” I yell, looking left and right. Oh my god, she’s vanished right beneath our noses. My brothers will have my head on a platter. My lips pinch tight as I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts. I start with Travis. It’s possible Quinn’s information about his incarceration is faulty, and if she’s gone, he should be the first to know.
Travis answers. “Yeah?”
Relief hits me. “Trav, thank god. Quinn said you’d been arrested.”
His chuckle is low and amused. “Christ, she isn’t worried is she? It’s all been sorted out. I’m on my way to the hospital now. Are you there?”
My brother’s response has fear snaking up my spine. If Quinn isn’t with him, and David is bound for the morgue, then something very, very bad is at play. “I am, but there’s a problem. A really big, horrible problem.”
“What?” he barks.
My eyes do another scan of the hospital entrance and front parking lot. It gives me nothing. “Quinn’s gone.”
There’s a pause then, “What the fuck, Mac?”
“Don’t shout at me!” I shout as I jog back to Evie. I left her alone for one minute, but apparently that minute was enough for all holy hell to break loose. “I already know I fucked up. Oh god.”
Travis orders us home to the duplex and hangs up on me. Frustration rattles my bones as we park in the driveway. They expect me to keep them in the loop when shit goes down yet I’m always kept out of it. Are we supposed to just sit on our hands and wait now? Balls to that.
It grates me to ring Jared, but I do. He doesn’t answer. I try Mitch. He doesn’t answer either. Evie sinks to the edge of the couch, biting her nails as I pace back and forth along the living room rug. “You’ll wear a hole in it,” she says.
I couldn’t care less. I’m too busy working out our next plan of attack. I pause and look at her. “Those guys who want the money have to be the ones who have Quinn, but who the fuck are they?”
She gives me a blank look.
“Did Quinn mention anything to you?”
Evie shakes her head.
“Okay.” I put my hands on my hips, my brain working overtime. “Well, David owed shitloads and considering the way they’re trying to collect their money, they can’t be good guys, right?”
“I guess.”
I begin to pace again. “So the loaned money can only come from some kind of criminal activity, like a crime group. Probably one that traffics drugs. I mean, that’s where the big money is, isn’t it?”
Evie shrugs like she doesn’t have a clue.
“Great sounding board you are,” I snap, pausing to face her.
“Don’t get pissy, Macface,” she snaps back. “I’m just as upset as you about this situation, but what are we supposed to do?”
“I don’t know!” I throw my hands up in the air. “But I do know that sitting around doing nothing isn’t going to help anyone.”
Evie huffs.
I crack my knuckles in annoyance. “If I had access to resources, I’d have this situation dealt with before you could blink.”
“What kind of resources? You mean like Google?”
An idea hits. “Yes!” I point a finger at her. “Now you’re starting to think like a badass consultant.”
“I am?”
“Yes. Now go get me a packet of salt and vinegar chips from the pantry. I can’t think on an empty stomach.”
Her mouth falls open. “How can you be hungry at a time like this? Especially considering we just had burgers not long ago.”
“Don’t give me smack talk, Sandwich,” I bark as I head for the study at the back of the house. After taking a seat at my desk, I roll my chair toward my laptop and flip open the lid. It would be handy if Google gave me a detailed list of organised crime groups in Sydney that run drug trafficking rings, along with their address and contact information, but that’s not going to happen.
It’s entirely possible that my brother’s firm has a list though. All I need to do is hack into their system.
Evie wanders in with my packet of chips. The bag is open and she’s stuffing them in her mouth.
“I thought you weren’t hungry after burgers.”
She shrugs. “I could still eat.”
I snatch the packet. Reaching in, I pull out a chip and crunch, chewing slowly, as I stare at the blank screen of my laptop.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to work out how to hack Jamieson and Valentine Consulting’s computer system.”
She snatches the chip packet back. “Why don’t you just ring Tim?”
Tim is their receptionist slash assistant. He’s short with a slim stature, dark hair, and rich brown eyes fringed by thick, sooty lashes. He’s also the office gossip. He knows everything that happens in that office before it even happens. I’ve made it my business to become his friend accordingly, but it’s an antagonistically mutual relationship.
I pick up the phone and dial. Tim answers on the third ring and rattles off his long greeting.
“It’s me,” I reply.
“Who’s me?”
“Fuck off, Tim. Shit’s going down and I need information.”
“I’m sorry,” he sing-songs. “I think you have the wrong number.”
“Tim,” I growl, knowing he’s swinging around in his fancy office chair at this very moment, playing with the styling of his hair to make sure each strand sits just so. It’s how Tim conducts all his phone chats.
He sighs a long lilting sigh that still manages to sound peeved. “Mac, if I give you any information, I’ll get fired.”
“Come on, Tim. Don’t be a little bitch.”
“Screw you, Mac,” he hisses into the phone.
The line goes dead.
I re-dial.
Tim answers, once again rattling off his long greeting.
“Quinn’s life is hanging in the balance,” I bark into the phone. “What if something horrible happens because you didn’t pass on the information we needed? What then, Tim? Huh?”
His tone is incredulous. “You think you’re the one that’s going to save the day?”
“Well, I can’t sit around twiddling my goddamn fingers.”
Tim huffs. “Let me see what I can find out.”
He hangs up before I can ask for the list of Sydney crime syndicates.