“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.

Because I finally had what I wanted.

What I needed.

“Mr. Tyler?” Valdez asked. “Are you still there?”

“I’m here,” I said.

“Does that name mean anything to you?”

“Yes. It does.”

“I see,” Valdez said. “Then I trust you will do with it whatever you deem necessary.”

“Yes.”

“And whatever is done, please understand. We will be supportive of the resolution.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Valdez said and hung up.

I shoved the phone back in my pocket and stared down at Farvar, with more clarity than I’d looked at anyone or any thing in the last decade.

“I ain’t giving you no name,” Farvar said, staring at me. “Don’t matter what you do.”

“I know,” I said. “But I have the name now.”

Farvar looked at me, confused, his brows screwed up together. “Huh?”

“I have what I need.”

He looked at me like I was crazy, then smiled. “Good. Then get the fuck out of my house.”

“So you can go back to work, right?” I asked, staring down at him, the television still illuminating his face. “Get back to business?”

“Just get the fuck out of my house.”

The thing with Farvar was that he would go right back to business. There was no conscience. There was no thought. He’d do what he needed to do in order to survive. And everything he would do would hurt somebody.

I wasn’t going to let that happen.

“You sold my daughter,” I said.

And I’m not sure what he saw in my expression, but he saw something because finally, for the first time, he looked genuinely afraid.

“Look, man, I…”

“You probably kept her here for a day or so,” I said, cutting him off. “Before you drove to Phoenix. She was probably crying. Scared out of her mind. And you were probably a serious dick, telling her to shut her mouth, to stop crying. Or you’d hurt her. Or maybe you did actually hurt her. And maybe that’s why she can’t remember anything because you terrified her.”

“I don’t even remember…” he said, trying to sit up.

I took half a step back and leveled the gun at his face. “I’ll bet you do, Mosaic. I’ll bet you do remember. Every single kid you’ve ripped away from their family. I’ll bet you remember.”

He squirmed some more.

“Tell me you remember the name,” I said.

“Man, I don’t…”

I leveled the gun again.

He swallowed hard.

“Tell me,” I said.

He swallowed again. Then said the same name Valdez spoke into the phone.

Confirmed.

“You send me a couple of emails earlier this week? Supposed to try and scare me a little? Someone tell you to do that, too?”