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Colton took a seat, crossing his long legs, as he looked around the room. “Where’s the child?”
“With his mother.”
The man pulled out his cigarettes, tapping one from the pack. “What happened?” he asked, between puffs, as he lit it.
“The Fargos happened. Somehow they got into the warehouse. By the time I arrived, they were driving off in the Ghost.”
“And they’re still alive?”
“The police arrived or they wouldn’t be.”
Colton blew a stream of smoke to one side, his dark gaze holding Oren’s. “How’d they even know where it was?”
“I have no idea. But somehow they’ve managed to be a step ahead of me the entire time.”
“Is it possible someone’s been feeding them information?”
“I don’t know how.” But the idea bore merit. They’d managed to infiltrate Rossi’s villa and his office. “Unless, of course, Rossi lied about having mentioned the location of the warehouse.”
“What would that have to do with anything?”
Oren handed him the phone he’d found in Rossi’s office. “Can you have one of your men break into this thing?”
“It’s a prepaid phone. You won’t get anything off this.” He tossed the phone into the trash basket next to Oren’s desk. “Where’s the Ghost?”
“I have no idea. Would the police hold on to it?”
“I expect they’ll process it for prints and such.”
Oren wasn’t worried. His wouldn’t be found. He never had the chance to touch it.
“The bigger question is,” Colton said, “will they search it and find whatever it is you’re looking for? I don’t suppose you have any idea what it is yet, do you?”
“If I knew that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“What makes you think they haven’t found it?”
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“We would’ve heard something.”
“You’re sure?” Colton asked. “Isn’t there something in this journal you’ve been trying to get from Payton Manor?”
Colton’s comment stirred the anger that had been festering in Oren’s gut ever since the Gray Ghost had been stolen from his warehouse. He’d been so close to having both the journal and the Ghost in his possession, only to have both taken from him in a matter of days. “Payton’s sister.”
“Allegra?”
“Yes. How is it she suddenly turned against us?”
“I’m not sure she was ever with us. And from what I understand, the solicitor the Fargos hired is now in possession of that book. His investigator confiscated it from her.”
“How do we get it back?”
“Carefully. Having the journal is one thing, interfering with a murder investigation quite another.”
“That’s the best you can do?” Oren said. Colton’s icy smile made him glad they were on the same side. The man wouldn’t hesitate to plunge a dagger in the heart of his own mother, if she stood in his way. Oren rose from his chair, walking to the window, looking out into the garden where a groundskeeper was clipping the hedge. “Considering that your men committed that murder, being worried about obstruction of justice seems the least of your problems.”
“Our problems,” Colton said, whispering in his ear.