Wicked Impulse

Chapter 2

BEAR

Thomas tapped a stack of papers against the conference table, peering around the room. "Good, everyone's here. What do we have on Johnny?"

We had been at it for three hours—making phone calls, tracking down leads, monitoring his digital footprint, and any other information we could get our hands on about John McDougal.

"McDougal isn't his real name," Sam spoke first and pushed a sheet of paper toward Thomas. "It's O'Sullivan, and he could be using either name."

"What about his cell phone?" James asked.

"It's been turned off," Morgan told us as he rubbed his temples.

"Have your buddy keep on it in case he turns it back on. We just need a few seconds to find his location," James replied like we were all new to the game.

"Already done," Morgan said.

"Bank accounts?" Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Empty," I told him.

Thomas tapped his pen against the table and leaned back in the chair. "Can someone interview Fran and see what she knows about Johnny? She may think a detail isn't important, but it might give us a lead."

Morgan dragged his fingers down his face. "I'll do it."

"I got it," I told him because his mom might not open up as much to him as she would to someone else...someone like me.

Everyone at the table turned to me with weird looks on their faces. "What?"

"You want to do it?" Morgan stared at me with narrowed eyes.

"Well, yeah." I shrugged.

"Why?"

"She may not tell you everything you need to know. Parents don't like to be as open with their kids as they would be with a friend."

He gawked at me. "You're my mom's friend?"

I hid my snarl and talked to cover up my annoyance. "I'm your friend, asshole, and by extension, your mother's too."

"Fine," Thomas interrupted before Morgan could say something else. "Bear will interview Fran."

Morgan's glare didn't leave me as the meeting continued. I ignored the stink eye he gave me and listened to everything I could about Johnny. He was a slippery motherfucker. He hid in plain sight, underneath our noses, and we were never the wiser. I knew every man around this table felt like me—a complete fool.

"Where's the last place he used his credit card?" Frisco asked, making a new bullet point on his fancy legal pad.

Kids. They wrote stupid shit down or put it in their notes in their fancy-ass cell phones. I only wrote down the most important information.

I was old-school and used my memory with most shit. I didn't have time to flip through pages when I was working a case or trying to track someone down. I swear technology had dumbed them down about ten pegs in the evolutionary chain.

"Yesterday, just outside of Gainesville," Sam answered.

"Morgan?" James called out.

I glanced out of the corner of my eye and realized he was still staring at me. "Morgan," I said, finally turning to look at him with a serious face.

"What?" Morgan replied, his eyes growing narrower.

"Are you listening or giving Bear the evil eye over there?" James laughed, and I couldn't help but join in.