Assignment Austin by Lucey Phillips

Author:Lucey Phillips
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2017-07-15T04:00:00+00:00

| Thirteen

I was lying awake, watching the stars fade against the light from the sunrise, when my phone started ringing. I thought of Colin immediately, but it wasn’t his name on my screen. It was Quinn, calling from East Coast time. I rubbed my eyes and let it ring a minute, trying to decide if I needed ibuprofen for my headache before I could manage having a conversation.

It stopped ringing. I rolled over and pulled the blankets up to my chin. But about thirty seconds later, it started ringing again.

“Hey, Quinn,” I croaked.

“Hey. I finally got into that phone,” she said. “It was only used to contact one number.”

“Yeah?”

“Southwest Iron.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what that was, but it didn’t sound like anything that would lead us to Harris’ killer.

“It’s a corporate account, and the extension belongs to Bonnie Key,” Quinn said. “Sound familiar?”

“Yeah…” I’d heard that name but I couldn’t remember where.

“From Kruger’s notes!” Quinn was practically shouting.

“Oh!”

“Yeah. Southwest Iron sells weights and barbells and stuff like that. Bonnie Key was the rep who sold to SoCo Athletics,” Quinn said. “I pulled the records for the last ninety days. This phone and her number called back and forth at least a couple times every day.”

“But the phone was in Minter’s desk. Maybe he was the one who was involved with her,” I said.

“No way. If that’s the case, why would he leave the phone there? He’s been in Florida for weeks,” Quinn said. “Plus, why would he need a throwaway phone? He’s not married.”

“What about her? Does she have a husband?”

“Live-in boyfriend,” Quinn said. “I saw it on Facebook. That’s probably why she only talked to Harris on her work phone.”

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Dylan Soto,” Quinn said. “He wasn’t anywhere in Kruger’s notes.”

“Maybe he’s the killer? I mean, Bonnie has an alibi, but we don’t know anything about this Dylan guy. He’s got a good motive.”

“Maybe,” Quinn said. “Want me to fax in an anonymous tip? Tell the cops to check him out?”

“Yeah. But what are we going to do with that phone? It’s stolen evidence.”

“Uh, it’s not exactly a phone anymore… just a pile of chips and a memory card.”

“Okay, whatever,” I said. “Thanks, Quinn.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “So, what’s wrong with you?”

“What? Nothing.”

“Jae. Come on. You’re moping.”

I sighed and wiped my eyes, unsure if I wanted to relive last night’s fight with Colin.

Quinn let her end of the line stay silent.

“Me and Colin—we had a, I don’t know, a disagreement, I guess,” I said. “He was drinking this margarita thing and then he tried to get me to drink. He was being pushy, then he said I need to, like, let loose, and drink instead of being crippled by my mom’s alcoholism. He called me crippled, Quinn.”

“Well that’s just politically incorrect! The term is differently abled,” Quinn said with a laugh.

“It’s not funny!” I whined.

“No, I know,” she said through a giggle. “But come on, he’s a guy who drank too much and acted insensitive.”

“So having testosterone and alcohol is an excuse to be a jerk?”

“No, of course not,” she said.

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