Burn It Up(26)

His fingers curled up into fists underneath the table.

Chill out. What the f*ck had happened to the old Casey, anyhow? Before last summer he’d have taken one look at this situation—seen an emotional girl, a baby, and some mysterious gunrunner ex—and booked it out of there quick enough to kick up dust. He should have left the Robin Hood scene to his brother; Vince was the one who enjoyed bleeding, after all. Casey liked his face and limbs just how they were.

“Let’s see where that goes,” Miah said, meaning the plan to get Ware in touch with Abilene, “and regroup from there.”

“Meantime,” Vince said, “we’re still on high alert. Especially you guys at the bar—no doubt he’ll be looking for her there.”

“I brought these,” Raina said, rooting through Duncan’s dossier. “Mug shot, plus a picture from the paper when he was arrested.” She handed out printouts with the two black-and-white photos on them.

Casey studied it, stomach dropping. He’d been avoiding this moment.

Ware looked about how he’d pictured. No face tattoos, but a mean mug, shaved head, scar through one eyebrow, glare like an angry dog. Guy must have some kind of winning-ass smile, he thought, if a sweet thing like Abilene had managed to fall for him, once upon a time.

Miah nodded, studying his copy. “Thanks. That’s way better than the photos I was able to find. Okay, item three: I’ve got some security concerns of my own.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Vince said.

“It’s nothing compared to Abilene’s worries.” Miah sipped his coffee. “But last fall we found some evidence that pointed to possible drug dealing, out on the range. Or maybe not drugs this time—could be weapons or any other thing. But pickups and drop-offs of some nature, likely. Strange vehicles seen turning off the access roads, late at night.”

“Déjà vu,” Vince said.

Miah nodded. “It’s happened before—one of my hands once found a cooler full of weed just sitting at the junction of two of our private roads. Whoever was meant to pick it up must’ve gotten lost or detained or something. We filed a report but nothing ever came of it. In any case, the BCSD doesn’t patrol out here, and there’re no lights or any workers out after sundown. It’s an obvious temptation.”

“You want us to patrol?” Vince asked.

“No, I can do that myself—I have been for months, just a couple times a week. There haven’t been any known thefts or property damage, so it’s more a nuisance than anything. But also not a development anybody wants becoming a regular thing. But I was thinking maybe one of us could go sniffing around the shadier corners of Fortuity. Drop hints like they’re looking for a distributor, that sort of thing. I think that probably means you, Case. Too many people know Vince and I are friends to buy it, but you’re still a new face to any criminals who didn’t grow up here.”

Casey shrugged, game for it. He did enjoy a good con. “I can give it a shot. Not sure where to start—or when I’ll have the time—but I’ll give it a try.”

Vince said, “Dancer,” just as Duncan suggested, “Perhaps John Dancer.”

“Fuck me, that psycho? Last time I saw him he chloroformed me.” Ostensibly as anesthesia, when Casey had been taken to Dancer to get a bullet tweezed out of his thigh, but it wasn’t as though he’d consented to it.

“Count yourself lucky you got to be unconscious for most of that morning,” Kim said.

John Dancer was Fortuity’s least reputable resident—and that was saying something. He attracted enemies like horseshit drew flies, and lived in a creepy orange camper van way out in the badlands by the creek.

“He’ll know you and me are friends,” Miah said, “so no need to pretend you’re after something shady.”

“Bribe him if you have to,” Vince agreed. “I’ll comp you out of the club’s account.” Meaning the many coffee cans full of cash Vince kept secreted around the auto garage—proceeds from his sideline as an unlicensed bookie and the sale of questionably acquired cars. “Ask Dancer if he’s ever done business with Ware, while you’re at it,” Vince added. “He’s been kicking around here for twelve years, probably, and I still got no clue what he does for money. But I wouldn’t be shocked if illegal weapons factored, here and there.”

“Fine, fine.” Casey glanced at his photocopy of the roster. “It’ll have to be an evening. I’ll try tonight, actually, if Miah can be with Abilene for a couple hours . . . ?”

Miah nodded. “Sure.” He sipped his coffee and glanced around the table. “Any other business?”

Everyone shook their heads, so he gave the peppermill another rap and stood. “Meeting’s adjourned. Thanks for coming so early, everybody. Stick around for the grub. And load the washer if you want my mom to stay sweet on you.”

“I got it,” Casey said.

Raina filled herself a plate, as did Vince and Kim. Duncan seemed content to eat nothing, sitting stock-still until Miah bade everyone a good day and disappeared.

Vince grinned at Duncan. “Now, that wasn’t so terrible, was it, Welch?”

“He promised to punch me once,” Duncan said. “Forgive me for finding it difficult to relax.”