“No, thank you,” Jake said. “I’m going to take your advice and go slow.”

“How about some dinner? Our jambalaya is the best in the Quarter.”

“That sounds great,” Jake said.

Tomorrow, he would try to see Tom. He hoped he wasn’t too late.

Chapter Thirteen

“Talk to me about threads,” Sam said when she entered the conference room.

“We’re focusing on the last seven days in particular,” Gonzo said, “and there’re several calls and texts to the one number we can’t trace.” He held up a sheet that had long lists of numbers printed on it to show her how they’d highlighted all the instances of that number in yellow.

“Do you think it’s a burner?” Sam asked.

“Possibly,” Freddie said. “We were waiting to see if you want us to call it.”

“Do you know how to make it so they can’t see where the call is coming from?” Sam asked.

“I can do that on my cell,” Gonzo said. “Let me make the call. I speak the language, unfortunately.”

“Go ahead.”

He punched a few things on his iPhone and then made the call, putting it on speaker.

“What?” a gruff voice said.

“I got your name from a friend,” Gonzo said. “Looking for some pills.”

“Oxy?”

“Yeah.”

“Ain’t got none left.”

“What else you got?”

“H.”

“I’d take that over nothing. Where can we meet?”

“Give me your number. I’ll call you with a place.”

“When will you call me?”

“When I want to.”

Gonzo gave him his number. “I really need to score, man.”

“I hear you. I’ll be in touch.”

The line went dead.

“Is your number traceable to you?” Sam asked, immediately concerned.

“No, I have it scrubbed. No one can tie that number to me.”

“How do you scrub a number?” Sam asked.

“Archie can do it for you. Might be a good idea in your case.”

“I’ll ask him about that. What do we do now?”

“We wait,” Gonzo said.

After hearing that Haggerty’s team had found a white packet of pills at Mary Alice’s home with the same S20 marking as the ones Spencer had, Sam told him to call in HazMat to get them to the lab since they might be laced with fentanyl. She was about to head home when FBI Special Agent-in-Charge Avery Hill appeared in her doorway. “Hey. What brings you here? I thought the proctology exam was completed.” The FBI had issued their report on the internal investigation of the department the week before.

Hill’s sinfully handsome face lifted into a half grin. “Does that mean I’m not allowed to come by anymore?”

“It means we’ve all seen enough of you around here.”

“I’m hurt.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Whatever. What can I do for you, Agent Hill? I need to get home.”

“I’m wondering if you’ve heard anything about what caused your brother-in-law’s death.”

Avery Hill wasn’t just a colleague to her. He was also a close friend now that he was married to Shelby. They’d been with them at Camp David the previous weekend when disaster had struck. Sam didn’t want to lie to him, but she also didn’t want him butting into her investigation. “Not yet.”