“What the fuck?” Farvar mumbled, his knees to his chest. “What the fuck?”
“What the fuck is right,” I said. “Our conversation is going to go a little differently this time. You hear me?”
“Fuck you,” Farvar snarled.
I took a step back, then swung my foot forward as hard as I could, digging my toe deep into his side. He howled and rolled to his side.
“Take note,” I said. “There is no cop here this time. Just me and you. And I’m prepared to do whatever I need to do to get what I want from you.”
He was still rocking back and forth on his side, his arms wrapped around his body.
“Have you ever taken or sold a child?” I asked.
“Man, you can…” he started to stay.
I feinted like I was going to kick his ribs again. He bucked, raising his head off the floor. I pivoted slightly and swung my foot into the side of his head. His head snapped away from me and his entire face screwed up in pain, his hands coming up to his head now.
“I’m not screwing around,” I said. “And I can do this all night. No one is coming to save you.”
He was breathing heavy, his chest heaving up and down. His left hand was clamped tightly over his left ear. He had one eye open, looking at me.
“Have you ever taken or sold a child?” I asked again.
He hesitated, then said, “Yeah.”
“Tell me.”
“About which one?” he said.
“All of them.”
He frowned, still grabbing at his ear. “Come on. How am I gonna do that?”
“You doing the taking or selling?”
“Both, dude. Both. Can I sit up?”
I nodded.
He pushed himself slowly, rubbed one more time at his ear, then leaned back on his hands.
“Both,” he said. “I’ve done both.”
I didn’t say anything.
Farvar shrugged. “Look, man. Money’s money. Somebody brings me a job, I take it. I don’t give a shit who it is. If I can do it, I do it. Gotta eat, dude.”
“Maybe try shoplifting,” I said. “You’re done with kids.”
He snorted. “Yeah. Whatever you say. And shoplifting won’t pay like kids.”
The anger was welling up inside of me. I’d been around plenty of people who had no regard for the safety and well being of children. But Farvar was proving himself to be a special kind of asshole. The kind that continued to operate without getting caught.
“Think back,” I said. “In Coronado. In San Diego. Were you involved with a girl there?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
I pulled the gun from my waistband and aimed it at the middle of his face. “Think hard.”
He didn’t look frightened in any way by the gun. Instead, he laughed.
“Again? This is like deja fucking vu,” he said, frowning at me like I was stupid. “I told you last time, man. You want information it’s going to cost you money.”
“Remember that girl I told you about last time? The girl you thought you might remember?” I held the gun steady on him. “She was my daughter.”
Something flickered through his eyes and I saw, for the first time, a fleeting moment of fear, like he’d realized that maybe he’d finally run into someone who was angry enough to do something to him.
He was correct in that assumption.
The flicker passed, though, replaced by the arrogance again. “Look, man. I don’t know. What you said, that was a long time ago.”
“You better think,” I said. “Or you won’t walk out of here.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ll kick my ass and I’ll wish I was never alive.” He shook his head. “You don’t fucking get it.”
“Tell me what I don’t get.”
The glow of the television illuminated his ugly face in the dark. “This is what’s gonna happen. Either you’re gonna pay me or I’m not gonna tell you shit. You seem like you don’t wanna pay, so whatever. So you’re gonna beat the shit out of me. Then you’ll leave. But guess what?” A smile creased his face. “I’m gonna heal up. And I’ll still have the information you want. And you won’t.” The smile turned into something else, something uglier, a little more evil. “And I’m gonna keep doing my thing.”
He was trying to make me angry. It was working. But I needed him to keep talking before I kicked his teeth in.
“Okay,” I said. “Tell me this. You’ve worked out of San Diego before?”
“I’m not giving you any names, ex-cop.”
“I’m not asking for names. Have you been involved with kids out of San Diego?”
He thought for a moment, touching his lip with his finger, then examining the finger for blood. “Yeah. Sure.”
“And you’ve done both?” I said. “You’ve snatched the kids and you’ve also had them brought to you?”
He nodded, still looking at his finger.
“Janine Bandencoop,” I said.
His eyes started to move in my direction, but he caught himself before they got all the way to me, pretending like he was still trying to see if his lip was bleeding.
But I’d seen it.
“So you know Janine,” I said. “You probably get the kids to her. Over in Phoenix.”
Again, there was a flash of recognition through his eyes before he could cancel it out.
But I’d seen it.
“She probably doesn’t know you or your name,” I said. “Which is good for you. Anonymity. But sure seems like you know her.”
He licked his lips and shrugged. “I know a lot of people.”
“I’ll bet you do,” I said. “One more question.” I paused, making sure I had his attention. “Any cops bring you kids?”
He stared at me for a long moment and then a thin, hideous smile split the bottom half of his face.
He raised an eyebrow. “They ain’t all so good, are they?”
I squatted down next to him and he jerked backward slightly, nervous as I took up the space in front of him.
“I want a name,” I said. “And don’t tell me you don’t know. I want the name of the cop that brought my daughter to you.”
He chewed on his bottom lip, still holding my gaze. He cleared his throat. “I think his name was…” He stopped again like he was trying to remember. Then his eyes lit up and he smiled. “I think his name was Sargent Go Fuck Yourself.”
I brought the gun around and smashed it into his jaw. He fell to the side, not completely out, but close to it.
I stood, my heart pounding. I was going to figure out a way to make him talk. I wasn’t going to leave until I got it out of him and I didn’t care how long it took.
Or what I had to do.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out as I thought about what I wanted to do.
A blocked number flashed on the screen.
I answered. “Hello?”
“Mr. Tyler. This is Mario Valdez. Am I catching you at a bad time?”
I looked down at Farvar, whose eyes were open and trying to focus. “No. Not a bad time at all.”
“After our conversation this afternoon, I spoke with several of my colleagues about your situation,” Valdez said. “As you might imagine, they were somewhat surprised by some of the things you relayed to me.”
I doubted they were surprised by anything, but I played along. “Of course.”
“As I said to you, we are not in the business of harming children,” Valdez said. “I want to reiterate that and tell you that my colleagues are in complete agreement with me. Children are not and have never been a part of our business.”
“I believe you.”
“And it is troubling to us that someone might have used your daughter in connection with a transaction or deal we had in place. Very troubling. We are not comfortable having our names attached to such a thing. Had we known, we would’ve dealt with it in our own way.”
Farvar rolled onto his back, blood leaking out of his mouth, his eyes glassy, but starting to focus.
“So after speaking to my colleagues, we have decided that your request is a fair one,” Valdez said.
My heard hammered against the inside of my chest. I forced myself to breathe slowly.
And Valdez said the name I’d been waiting to hear.
I didn’t respond. I focused on my breathing. On slowing my heart rate down.