Jimmy swallowed again. “They’re – these guys. Friends, I guess. They’re young – not as young as us, but–”
“They’re dealers,” the one with the peas spoke up, grimacing. “These two friends who are in their twenties. They came into Flash to get their boat tricked out, and Jimmy thought they were cool ‘cause they paid attention to him.” The last was said with a sneer. “I told you not to fuck around with them.”
“They were fucking around with me!” Jimmy protested, turning to his friend.
“They said they bet you were really popular at school,” the friend retorted with a snort. “That didn’t sound like made-up bullshit to you?”
Jimmy’s face flushed. “They were cool.”
“They looked like they were onMiami Vice, dipshit. They played you up like you were hot shit – might as well have fucking blown you – and then out came the baggie, and you were like, ‘Yeah, please, let me sell it.’”
“You’re dealing?” Ghost asked.
“No,” Jimmy said, too-fast. “Well…I mean…I sold a little. But only a little! They had uppers. Designer stuff. I shared it with some kids at school, and had a few parties.”
“Lemme guess: the first few bags were on the house.”
“Dipshit,” the friend muttered.
“They said they were samples! That if I could get rid of them, then they’d let me sell for real.”
“Except then they asked for their money,” Walsh said.
Jimmy nodded, and wiped his hands down his face, miserable. “They said I had to come up with the money, which I didn’t have, and couldn’t get, or I could help them make the Dogs look like shit.”
Carter traded frowns with Walsh, and glanced over to find Mercy doing the same. If someone was wanting to make the Dogs look bad, manipulating idiot teenagers seemed like an ineffective and risky way to go about doing it.
“Did you tell anyone what was happening?” Ghost asked.
Jimmy shook his head. “Just Kyle and Patrick.” He indicated the boys flanking him. “They were in on it.”
“Well, I want out of it,” Kyle spat. He turned to Ghost.
“Can you get rid of those guys? That’s what the Dogs do, right? Make people disappear? They’re your competition, dealing and shit. It’s them you want, not us.”
Ghost’s frown shifted into sterner territory, and Kyle shrank back in his chair; condensation from the thawing peas trickled down the side of his face, and he shivered.
“I would need names,” Ghost said. “Descriptions. Some way to contact ‘these guys.’ I’m not moving on anyone on the word of dumbass kids who trespassed on my goddamn property.”
All of them winced, properly scolded.
“How does Allie Henderson play into this?” Ghost asked.
As if rehearsed, all three boys blanched.
Ghost’s voice shifted low and dangerous. “I don’t care about you dickheads and your bad business decisions. A real girl is missing, and probably dead, and your party was the last place anyone saw her. Tell me what you know about Allie, or protection is off the table.”
Jimmy’s mouth opened on a gasp.
“Tell me about Allie, or I’ll let the crazy fucker with the knife come back out here and have another go at you.”
Another gasp. Jimmy jerked up straight. “Okay, okay, okay…” He breathed for a moment, open-mouthed, gaze going distant as he withdrew into his own thoughts and memories. “They, um…they were there that night. At the party.”
“Who?” Ghost and Mercy asked in unison.
“The dealers. The guys, who…their names are Fred and Ricky.”
Ghost reacted first. He sat back, brows climbing. “Fred and Ricky?”
