Page 88 of Girl, Forgotten (Andrea Oliver 2)

“We good?” Bible was leaning against his SUV. He’d brought Andrea’s backpack out for her.

“We’re good.” She grabbed the bag as she climbed into the Explorer. It took all of her willpower not to look back for Mike.

“I called the diner.” Bible kept it professional as he pulled out of the space. “Ricky’s at home right now, lives a hop and a skip away. It’s always good to talk to somebody on their home turf. She’ll be relaxed and comfortable. Me, I’d approach it like, hey lady, I’m trying to help you here. Tell me what you know about your ex so we can lock up that fella and throw away the key.”

Andrea doubted it would be that simple, but she said, “Easy peasy.”

“Lemon squeezy,” Bible finished. “Excellent, partner. I know you’re gonna knock it outta the park.”

Andrea appreciated the sentiment, but she wasn’t so sure. Mike had shaken her.

He had also lied to her.

He’d told Andrea that Mitt Harri had sent him a message through Slack at ten this morning. That was the first time Mike had learned that Andrea was in Longbill Beach. Yet the timestamp on his gnus text was 8:32 this morning, which meant that Mike had not been reaching out to Andrea for work. He was reaching out to her because he’d wanted to reach out to her. The dik-dik picture had been sent when he was fifteen minutes out from the motel.

The timing didn’t add up for the relationship gossip, either. Andrea had known Bible less than five minutes when he’d congratulated her on the engagement. Mike had no reason to worry about Clayton Morrow yesterday afternoon. As far as he knew then, Andrea was in Baltimore. He hadn’t started the rumor to mark her like a fire hydrant or make her life difficult. He had started it because he wanted his name in Andrea’s mouth.

She had hurt him.

Why had she hurt him?

“You know,” Bible said. “My son’s about Mike’s age.”

Andrea took the opening, though it felt strange that he was choosing now to tell her about his personal life. “I didn’t know you had a kid.”

“Two. My girl’s a doctor over in Bethesda. Super smart like her mama.” Bible’s smile was filled with pride. “My boy, well, don’t get me wrong. He’s a good kid. Got a full ride to West Point. Ended up getting his law degree from Georgetown.”

Andrea sensed a but coming.

“Me and Cussy, we don’t tell many people this, but he came out to us his second year at G-Town. Told us he wanted to work in criminal defense.”

Andrea reluctantly smiled. Cops despised criminal defense attorneys. Until they needed one. “Don’t worry. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“I picked up on that.” As usual, Bible’s words had an alternate meaning. He was giving Andrea the opportunity to explain why she knew so much about Dean Wexler, Nardo Fontaine and Ricky Fontaine.

She couldn’t explain it. Alice Poulsen and Star Bonaire had to be the focus right now. If she let herself get caught up in Emily Vaughn, she would lose any chance she had of talking Ricky Fontaine into turning on her ex-husband. Compton had made it clear this was their only opportunity to stop the madness at the farm.

Bible said, “I started out in drug enforcement. Mike tell you that?”

Andrea guessed Bible was going to tell her another story to try to get her to open up. She only half played along, staring out the window as she said, “Mike hasn’t told me anything.”

“Well, them WitSec guys are squirrelly.” Bible cleared his throat before continuing. “What happened was, I was sitting at my desk one day. Gotta call from the Big, Big Boss in DC. He tells me that the DEA needs a fresh face down in El Paso to drive a truck back and forth across the border. Little hokey pokey—you put the heroin in, you take the money out, and that’s what it’s all about.”

Andrea knew the Marshals were often pulled onto various task forces. Bible would’ve easily blended in with his military tattoos and thick Tex-Arkana accent.

“So, I report to El Paso, and we’re trying to nab some Narcos bringing coke up from Sinaloa. You ever been there?” He waited for Andrea to shake her head. “Damn beautiful state—you got the Sierra Madres, the Baja California Sur. Salt-of-the-earth people down there. Friendly as all get out. And the food—”

Bible did a chef’s kiss as he slowed for a turn. Beach Road disappeared in the rearview mirror. There were no McMansions at this end of town, just a blue-collar residential area with small houses and older cars.

“Anyways,” Bible said. “I get the official invite down to Culiacán, which is a very big deal. I play it cool—drink some beers, talk up my bad boy bona fides, make it clear I’m easy like Sunday morning.”

Andrea felt a shift in the air.

Bible wasn’t spooling out a story. He was telling her that he had infiltrated the higher echelons of a Mexican drug cartel. She looked at the long, thin lines that scarred his face. She had never noticed before, but they skipped down his neck and disappeared under his shirt collar.

She turned to face him, to let him know that she understood he was telling her something that he didn’t usually share.

He nodded, acknowledging the stakes. Then he took a deep breath and said, “Couple’a months go by, I start working this informant on the inside. At least I thought I was working him. Let’s just say the fella was not my amigo. Shit goes down. Next thing I know, I’m tied up to a chair and they’re playing pin the tail on the Marshal.”