Poisonfeather (Gibson Vaughn #2)(73)

Swonger ran out of steam, which meant it was Gibson’s turn again. For what seemed like the thousandth time, he argued that the safest solution was to play the odds that the phone was in state, create a grid map, and comb West Virginia with the Stingray until it registered a hit for the phone number that Merrick had texted. Then the Stingray could triangulate the signal and lead them to its owner. But that led Swonger back to his argument about the relative size of West Virginia.

“Dog, there are seventy thousand miles of road in West Virginia.” Swonger had Googled that figure and felt committed to his research. “If it’s even in West Virginia.”

Lea listened to them bicker from the bathroom. A thought occurred to her.

“Will the Stingray work if the target phone is off?” she called into the other room. She heard silence in return and went out to find Swonger staring at Gibson expectantly.

“Does it?” she asked.

“No,” Gibson said. “The phone would need to be on.”

“Well, what if whoever it is keeps the phone off except when Merrick is scheduled to make contact?”

Gibson made a face that said it hadn’t occurred to him.

“So shouldn’t we make sure it’s on? It’s a pretty state, but we have better things to do than sightsee for the nine days. Don’t you think?”

Gibson nodded.

“See?” Swonger said as though he’d won the argument. “That’s what I was saying.”

Once Gibson was on board, she watched him snap into action. He laid out a pretense for the call and started crafting a script to get something useful out of whoever was at the other end of the phone. Again she was impressed at how his mind worked.

“Is it a man or a woman?” Gibson wondered aloud.

“A man,” Lea said without hesitation.

“Why?”

“Women at Merrick Capital only answered the phones. And after the divorce, I don’t think trusting women is high on his list.”

Gibson smiled at her.

“What?” she asked.

“You’ll make the call. You used to act, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but why me? Isn’t this what you do?”

“If it’s someone Merrick trusts, then it’s someone who thinks like him. Someone who doesn’t take women seriously. All you have to do is play the sweet girl. Lull them. Can you do sweet?”

She held up her middle finger.

“Perfect. You’re a natural.”

Together, they honed Gibson’s script until Lea felt comfortable with it. Then he had her practice with him until she knew it backward and forward.

“I’m ready.”

Gibson checked the time.

“No, too soon. These guys always call at dinnertime.”

They got something to eat themselves and reconvened in Lea’s apartment at seven o’clock. When she was ready, Gibson played a recording of the background noise of a busy call center. The burbling sound of ringing phones and dozens of voices filled her apartment. She dialed the number. It rang six times and went to voice mail—a mechanical voice recited the number and gave instructions for leaving a message. She hung up, and Gibson killed the soundtrack.

“Should I call back?”

“Wait an hour. We don’t want to be too eager.”

The time passed in silence, heavy like they were waiting for news on a loved one in surgery. Swonger turned on the TV and found an old Simpsons episode. She went to the bathroom and threw up her dinner. The way she always had before an audition. It settled her down, and she felt better. She called again at eight. This time someone picked up but didn’t speak. Lea listened to the hypnotic static until Gibson’s snapping fingers spurred her to speak.

“Hello. Good evening. I’m calling on behalf of the governor’s office. How are you this evening?”

Silence on the other end. She made a frightened face at Gibson, afraid whoever it was had hung up. Gibson made an exaggerated smile and spun his finger for her to keep going.

“Hello?” she said cheerfully. “Is anyone there?”

“Who is this?” A young adult male voice, wary and soft.

“Oh, I do apologize, sir. This is my first day. My name is Annie Silver. I work in the governor’s office here in Charleston, and we’re taking an informal survey on a proposed bill to fund West Virginia public schools—”

“Wait, who is this?”

“Annie Silver from the governor’s office?”

“Oh, yeah, look, I don’t vote.”

“But you are a resident of West Virginia, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but I’m . . .”

Gibson pumped his fist and began tapping the list of questions that they’d written to help narrow their search area.

“Still, we’re interested in all our citizens’ opinions. May I ask you our survey questions? How do you feel about the redistricting that’s—”

“I told you I don’t want to answer any questions.” His voice hardened, but he didn’t hang up. Gibson pointed to a different question on the list, but Lea knew if she asked it, he’d be gone.

Instead, she said, “That’s okay. I don’t really like asking them, to tell you the truth.”

She was completely off script now. Gibson mouthed, “What are you doing?” She held up her hand and turned away so she could concentrate on the voice at the other end of the phone.