Ron got right to it. “Alves is no longer in charge of Grace Lewis’s case.”

Sebastian felt as though the floor had tilted. “What? Why not?”

“He suffered a major heart attack this afternoon. He’s in the ICU.”

“Did Paul find out he’s working for us? Try to take him down or something?”

“No.”

“You’re sure? Because there are medications, drugs you can slip into—”

“Stop. You’re being paranoid. Nothing nefarious happened, I promise you. It’s just bad luck.”

There seems to be a lot of that going around, Sebastian thought. He sucked in a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he pinched his forehead between his fingers.

“Because of the ransom demand,” Ron said, “the kidnapping is a multi-jurisdictional affair, which means the Feds are involved. FBI doesn’t play well with others, and they sure as hell aren’t going to allow a freelancer to come in and help.”

“What about your other contacts?”

“Worked them all afternoon, at the Back Nine, which is why I’m already half in the bag.”

Now Sebastian understood why Ron suggested they meet here. The Back Nine, another dive bar, was only a few blocks away, a popular watering hole for the LAPD.

Ron picked up his drink. “They wouldn’t share any case details with me.”

“Because the Feds are involved?”

“Because Paul practically blew up a neighborhood,” Ron said wearily. He took a sip of his drink. “LAPD is still investigating, along with the ATF. It wouldn’t look good for them to have me involved in any of their investigative affairs, so all my overtures were politely rejected.”

“After all the shit we’ve done for them?”

“It is what it is. Isn’t that what you AA guys always say?”

Sebastian yanked his phone from the table to check his email again.

“My people are doing that,” Ron said. “Monitoring your account.”

Sebastian knew that, but the gesture soothed him, gave him the feeling of some sense of control—which, deep down, he knew was complete and utter bullshit. Paul had Grace. Paul controlled her life, could do anything he wanted to her.

“The tech guys explain to you how it’ll work? Tracing the message?”

Sebastian nodded. “When Paul reaches out, they’ll trace the message back through the ISP, and get an exact location within a minute, or less.”

“Don’t hold me to that. There are a lot of factors involved that can prevent—”

“I know—they told me.”

“And if he sends it from a phone, then powers it off, we’re shit out of luck.”

Sebastian stared at his screen, saw real estate–related emails.

“Still nothing.”

“This afternoon, when we spoke,” Ron said, “you didn’t tell me how Paul found out about Grace.”

“I have no idea.”

“You never discussed that topic with him?”

Sebastian cocked his head to the side, frowning. “How shit-faced are you? I told you earlier I didn’t know I had a daughter until”—he glanced at his watch—“nine hours ago.”

“I was referring to Ava Lewis. I’m trying to understand how Paul found out about her.”