Page 82 of Cognac Secrets
“No, don’t hang up!” I heard screeched through the line and I stopped. That wasn’t Sandy’s voice.
“True, what’s going on?”
“They took her!” she cried hysterically.
“Slow down, deep breath,whotook her?” I asked, but I already knew the fucking answer.
“Some Jim-Bob, Joe-Bobfuckingrednecks!” True sobbed on the other end of the line. “I called the cops, but I only have whattheylook like and without a vehicle description or license plate, they can’tdoanything else they said!”
“Easy,” I told her. “You just gave me an idea. I gotta go.”
I hung up on her and went back over to Hex.
“Yeah man, Sandy’s family just busted in on her and True and took her. I gotta go.”
“Sending some of the boys your way,” he said and hung up before I could. The next person on my list had a Florida area code and the means to get what I needed…
“Yeah, Radar – it’s Bennie with the Bastards. I need your help,” I said grimly just as soon as he picked up.
“Say less, what ‘cha need?” he asked and I felt the tightness in my chest ease.
“I have a girl. Her religious nut job family just came through and kiped her – her bestie called the cops, said they couldn’t do shit without a vehicle description and a plate. I need you to look up Starkweather out of Issaquena County, Mississippi and gimme a run down of makes, models, and license plate numbers of any vehicle belonging to a Starkweather up there.
“That’s a big ask, yo – I mean, it’s not a super common name but?—”
“Relax,” I said. “There’s only like fourteen hundred people total in Issaquena County. It sounds like a big ask, but it really isn’t.”
“Well, then, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but when you’re talking bum fuck Mississippi countythatsmall, there might not be a computerized system in play so tell you what I’m gonna do – I’m gonna…” he trailed off and I could hear computer keys clacking on the other end of the line as he mumbled under his breath, “…start at the state level.”
“Please let me get lucky,” I muttered and he let out a whoosh of air on the other end of the line.
“You got lucky. The name Gideon sound familiar?”
“Ah, yup, sounds like her douchebag older brother,” I affirmed, the name coming back to me in a rush.
“He’s got a nineteen ninety-eight Ford Ranger pickup truck – tabs expired – but he is the registered owner.”
“It’s a start. Anything and anyone else come up?”
“Jacob Starkweather, owns a Mercury station wagon. Red.”
“Right, that’s her middle brother. Sandy was the baby.”
“K, I think this might be Daddy Dearest, Ezra Starkweather – date of birth tracks.”
“Send me everything you got in text. I’m going to hit the road and see if I can’t catch up to ‘em.”
“Best of luck man, real sorry to hear about Louie.”
“Yeah, thanks, man. Hate to run but?—”
“Yeah, you gotta go. Later.”
I hung up and pushed back from my desk, getting to my feet.
I pulled my gun out of the drawer I kept it in at my desk when I was at work, checked it, and tucked it at the small of my back.
The Starkweather clan out of Issaquena County had just fucked up and fucked up ingrandfashion. The way Sandy told it, they were a God-fearing people and feared no one else. I was about to teach them that the devil was in the details and that their God was the last thing on earth that they needed to fear because death was coming for them, and he rode an iron horse.
