Page 32 of Wild Frost

"Maybe. Nick Kingston is a real estate guy. Slumlord. Owns properties in Jamaica Village. Seller financed. No banks involved. A lot of evictions. You know, the kind of deal where you miss one payment, and you’re gone?”

“A lease to own, but the tenant will never own. Nick was renting to people with a high probability of default.”

“Exactly. Predatory lending, if you ask me.”

“Kind of a legal gray area.”

“I'm sure the guy has made a boat-load of enemies. Might be an avenue to pursue.”

"Might be, indeed."

“I’ll send you addresses and contact info for next of kin for all the victims. Everyone has already been notified."

"Any hits on the vehicle?"

"Nothing was reported stolen. There are at least a dozen Dominator GTs registered on the island. But get this… I broke them down by age and gender—males between 18 and 35. There are two cars that fit. Both owners live in Jamaica Village."

"Now that's starting to sound like a connection.”

“It is, isn’t it?” she said with a smile in her voice.

“Nice work.”

“Let me know what you find. Be careful. If this is gang-related…”

“I know.” I thanked her for everything and promised we’d use caution.

The info buzzed my phone a moment later.

JD and I chowed down on breakfast. His phone rang with a call as we finished up. He answered and held the device to his ear. “This is Jack Donovan.” He listened intently, and a wide grin curled his mouth. “Fantastic! I’ll be right there.”

Jack ended the call and couldn’t stop grinning. “Looks like Christmas came early.”

We bused our plates, and I followed Jack to the parking lot. A flatbed had hauled the beast in from Miami.

The driver greeted us with a handshake and a smile. “I’ll get her off the truck, we’ll do a pre-delivery inspection, then I’ll just need a bit of paperwork.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jack said.

With a matte stealth gray finish, sharp aggressive lines, and fat knobby tires, the Revenant XTV looked like a space-ace armored personnel carrier. Made of composite alloys, carbon fiber, and Kevlar, the thing could withstand anything the urban jungle could throw at it. EV with integrated solar, the amphibious vehicle could thrive on land or sea. It might not be the fastest thing on the water, but it would get you there in style.

Once the driver got it off the flatbed, we walked around the beast, inspecting for damage.

It was pristine. Not a scratch or blemish.

The build quality was impeccable, like a tank. The doors were solid yet light and had a satisfying feel to them when opened and closed. The fresh leather interior filled my nostrils when I peered inside the vehicle. Retractable steps provided easy access. The ginormous tires gave plenty of ground clearance. The interior was sleek and modern, with a mix of digital and analogue displays. Full leather with deviated stitching gave it an upmarket feel. Luxury and security while traversing apocalyptic wastelands. Heated seats, adaptive suspension, 4WD with torque vectoring, run-flat tires. The works.

The delivery driver gave us an overview of the features, then Jack signed off on the delivery. With keys in hand, the Revenant was his.

We needed an armored vehicle since the Devastator was sitting in the impound lot in Pineapple Bay as evidence. But this might have been overkill.

“Want to take it for a spin?” Jack said as he sat behind the wheel.

“Hell yes!”

The vehicle came alive when he started it, the dash glowing, reading out vital statistics. The first order of business was to find good music. That was my job. I fooled with the radio until I found something suitable.

We zipped across the island to speak with Nick’s wife, Lena. She lived on Breakwater Lane. The giant knobby tires whirred against the asphalt. There was nothing like it on the island, and only 250 had been allocated nationwide. Most were sitting in showrooms.