“Where the fuck were you?” she yelled. “You couldn’t even bother to call me?”

“I was busy. I forgot to phone you.”

“You were too busy to take a minute and call me? What was her name?”

“I wasn’t with a girl.”

“Yeah, I just bet you … fuck! Look at you! I can believe you weren’t with a girl. Maybe a pig. You got dirt all over you. What were you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“You were doing something. God, you stink, too. What was it?”

“I met some guy. We did a lot of talking.”

“How did you get so dirty?”

“I fell in a hole. We were walking and I fell in.”

“So you were stoned.”

“No, it just happened.”

“Well it sure as hell is too late to go to dinner now. Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Your voice sounds weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“Monotone. You remind me of my grade eight history teacher.”

“I’m tired.”

“Me too. But I’m also fuckin’ hungry.”

“How about I make you an omelette?”

“Yeah, okay … but shower first. You really reek of B-O.”

Later, Slater went to the kitchen in his bathrobe and opened a carton of eggs.

“So who was this guy you spent all night talking to?” his girlfriend asked.

“Just somebody I met. It’s business. I can’t talk about it,” replied Slater.

“That’s what you always say when you don’t want to explain what you’ve been up to. Hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I really get the feeling you’re shovelling me a load of crap.”

Apparently Slater did mind. A hysterical cry emitted from his mouth and he repeatedly grabbed at the eggs with both hands, squeezing and crushing them as the broken bits of eggshell and yolk ran through his fingers.

chapter seventeen

It was nine o’clock Sunday morning when Connie Crane and Wilson arrived together at Jack’s office.

“Well, we’re here,” said Connie. “When you called this morning, you woke me up. You did say Slater spilled his guts to you and we needed to talk. I heard right, didn’t I? At first I thought I was dreaming.”

“You weren’t dreaming,” replied Jack.

“Yeah? Well it better be good. Today would have been my first day off in two weeks.”

“I don’t know if it’s good news,” replied Jack, “but it’s informative. Yesterday I met him through The Racquet Club and pretended to be a member of Satans Wrath. I said we had a business proposition for him.”

“You told him you were with the club and he believed you?” asked Connie.

“I had him swing by the clubhouse after to meet me. I used Sammy from Drug Section in a quick UC to direct him down the street and park. I then sat in his car with him and he presumed I came out of the clubhouse.”

“Pretty smooth,” chuckled Wilson. “Better hope Satans Wrath never finds out.”

Jack nodded in agreement.

“So what did you say to him?” asked Connie.

“I offered him a chance to go into business together.”

“With Satans Wrath?” exclaimed Wilson. “What if he goes to them looking for you?”

“I am a little concerned about that,” admitted Jack. “When I used the ruse on him, I didn’t expect it would turn into any long-term project. I was hoping a day or two would be all we needed to find Lily.”

“So your cover story may not hold up for long,” noted Wilson.

“For the short term I feel comfortable with it. I made a point of telling Slater to only deal with me. I’ve got a feeling he will do what I tell him.”

“So then he opened up to you?” asked Connie, suspiciously. “He trusted you just like that?”

“Are you kidding? He was practically on his knees begging to work with me.”

Connie stared at Jack, then opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind.

“So, let me tell you what I learned,” continued Jack.

Over the next half hour, Connie and Wilson each jotted down notes as Jack outlined what he had learned from Slater.

“I would never have believed he would open up so quickly upon meeting you,” said Wilson. “You must have been pretty convincing.”

“I guess he thought so.”

“From what you have said, it sounded like the two of you had a really amiable conversation,” said Connie, watching Jack closely. “Maybe we could use his admission against him as evidence.”

“Uh …”

“Or when you said he was practically on his knees begging, should I take that literally?”

“Well, it was sort of literal,” admitted Jack.

“Christ! I thought so! What did you do to the poor son of a bitch?”

“What do you mean the poor son of a bitch?” growled Jack. “He doesn’t deserve any pity. He set up Porter to be killed … which personally I am quite happy about, but he also set up Lily.”

“But what did you —”

“Anything I did to him was strictly psychological,” responded Jack, tersely. “I didn’t hurt him physically. That’s all you need to know.”

“I think that’s all I want to know,” replied Connie, quietly.

“However you did it, your information is a huge lead,” said Wilson. “I really appreciate it. With what we saw in the apartment security cameras it fits. I think Slater was being truthful to you.”

“Oh, I’m sure he was,” replied Jack. “He knows he’d be digging himself a hole he couldn’t get out of if he was lying to Satans Wrath.”

“And he thinks Tio sent a hit team up from Mexico, whacked Porter, and then skedaddled back to Mexico?” noted Wilson.

“That’s what Slater believes. He says Tio does have Mexicans living here and distributing cocaine, but after Porter fled from the motel, one of Tio’s men called and told him they were going to send a team up to Canada to take care of Porter. Also explains why the killers didn’t worry about the security cameras. I bet they headed south the same day.”

“We still have both of Porter’s vehicles impounded,” said Wilson. “I’ll get the mechanics to take another look at his truck. See if it has a secondary deck in the back.”

“Too bad you didn’t know what motel Lily Rae was in at the time,” said Connie. “Might have given us more of a lead if she was taken someplace else to be killed.”

“Let’s hope she hasn’t been murdered,” said Jack quietly.

“And from how these guys operate,” said Wilson, “if they were going to kill her, I don’t see them as the type to worry about hiding any bodies. At least, not driving a victim out to … how did Slater put it? A trailer?”

“Way to hell and gone out into the desert to some mobile trailer,” said Jack.

“Exactly,” said Connie. “If she’s dead, the U.S. probably already has her body. I’ll get on the horn today with the FBI and whatever other law enforcement agencies they have down there. Let’s see if they have any unidentified victims who match Lily’s description.” She looked at Jack and added, “Not that I’m giving up hope. Just doing my job.”

“I know,” said Jack. “It’s also Sunday morning. What do you think your chances are of finding out today?”

“Let’s find out,” said Connie.

Everyone was quiet as Connie started making phone calls, first to the FBI, then the state police, Texas Rangers, and finally the El Paso Police Department.

Her responses were much the same. Nobody was aware, offhand, of any victims fitting Lily’s description, but each suggested it would be better to go through channels on Monday when the regular staff were on duty and could give a more informed answer.

It gave the Canadian investigators some sense of hope.

Over the next two hours, Jack, Connie, and Wilson completed reports, along with an operational plan to be approved by the brass. The basis for the plan rested on an attached report submitted by Jack that said while acting in an undercover capacity and portraying an image of an outlaw biker, he had befriended Clive Slater. His report then listed what Slater had told him.