“And Pink,” Beckham offered. “I loved Pink. I remember buying her first record. Bought every one since.”
“Oh, I knew that about you,” Anya said. “You have that confident ‘fuck you I listen to Pink and can potentially do aerial tricks’ aura about you.”
I laughed. “Thought you were going to say you looked through his search history.”
“That too, but, well—” She put a hand out like Vanna White, framing her computers. “—that’s a given.”
I paused for a second before both Anya and Beckham started to laugh. I joined in, a little relieved she was joking. Not that I had anything to hide, even if she wasn’t joking.
Well, there was that one time I googled… nah, forget it. That was on my browser’s privacy mode. No way could she have found that.
Right?… Right?
“All right, let’s dig into this,” Anya said, cracking her knuckles. She drank from her Adventure Time mug, foam from the beer sticking to her upper lip before she wiped it off.
The weight of the moment was settling back onto my chest, reminding me of the exact reason why we were here.
This could be it. Anya may have found something that pointed to the two thugs involved in this. We may have the answer to who those two monsters were. The ones who’d stolen a light from this world, one that so badly needed any light it could get. Derrick was a spotlight, his soul as bright as the sun. And he was taken in the blink of an eye. In the explosion of a star.
I began feeling excited about the prospects of putting this all behind me.
“Okay, so, check this out.” Anya pointed at one of the screens. Both Beckham and I stood from our seats on the couch and flanked Anya, beers still in hand. I followed her finger, reading the screen.
“This is a text exchange from Mario with a burner phone. I couldn’t track down any information about who owned the burner phone, but you can tell that the two weren’t exactly chatting about the newest season of Stranger Things.”
I shook my head. “No, definitely not.”
The screen had an image of a text chat magnified so that it took up the entire space. It was a short exchange, but it was pretty telling of the type of person Mario was.
BURNER PHONE: Yo, you up? I’ve got something I need help with.
MARIO: Yeah I’m up. Where you at?
BURNER PHONE: By Lake Ellis. Got into some heat. Need to handle the mess.
MARIO: I’ll be there in fifteen. J lay low.
The exchange had happened a year ago, the first text being sent at three thirty in the morning. Not much good happens at that time, especially not by a sketchy-ass lake that was infamous for having dead bodies float up to the surface on an otherwise peaceful day.
Anya dragged her finger across the screen. The last line was highlighted in bright yellow, following the trail her finger had dragged.
“That line interests me the most.”
“And why’s that, Anya?” Beckham cocked his head, smiling. I had a feeling that line interested him just the same.
“Mario slipped some info in there. I don’t think that random J is a typo.”
“I don’t think so either. It’s a bread crumb. I take it you have the rest of the trail?”
“I do,” Anya said, tilting her head and smirking. She turned back to her computers and focused on the center screen. There, she pulled up a detailed satellite view of Miami. She tapped on a flashing red dot and the camera zoomed forward, stopping in front of a four-story apartment building, its beige paint chipping across the front. A mom and her two kids walked hand in hand across the front of the building, the little boy trying desperately to open up a toy, using his teeth to tear at the corner of the box in his hand.
“Wait a second, is this live?” I asked, only now realizing what I was looking at.
“I’ve got access to this street camera, so yeah, you’ve got a live feed right now. And this place here, that’s Mario’s place. He lives on the fourth floor. Apartment 410.”
“Holy Glittertits, Anya, you’re really good.”
Anya dropped her head back and let out a loud laugh. “Glittertits. I like that. I like that a lot.”
“Thanks, I just made it up. You inspired me.”
She shook her head before pointing at Beckham, smile wide on her face. “You better not fuck this up. I like this guy.”
“Yeah, I do, too,” Beckham shot back, pulling me into his side and kissing the top of my head. I could feel my cheeks flush bright red.
“Too sweet. I’m going to barf. I love it.” Anya turned to the computer. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the place, but no one suspect has walked in or out. I did see Mario leave like an hour ago.”