* * *
Gordon looked at his watch. 5:40. He’d been convinced for an hour that he was wasting his time. Worse, he and Faulkner had recruited three friends to help. Their time was being wasted too, at some risk to their own careers. Worst of all, LaMott had not only failed to show up, he had also failed to answer his cell phone since Gordon’s first call, two hours ago. No sign of Sheffield either, but Gordon wasn’t absolutely sure he would have recognized him. That had been LaMott’s job.
Had they canceled the meeting, or planned something else instead? The idea was nearly plausible—LaMott had struck him as a flake. But he doubted anyone involved would get off that easily.
He stood up from the table where he’d been pretending to eat a corn dog for the last hour. It had been a slight risk to be out in the open at all, but he and Faulkner were the only participants able to identify LaMott for the others, and Faulkner was more conspicuous.
He raised both hands over his head, stretching. At this signal, the others began drifting out of the mall in different directions. He spotted Faulkner leaving a video game arcade. Huh. Gordon would have figured he’d stand out in there. But it must have worked, because Faulkner didn’t screw things like that up.
The group walked outside casually, not appearing to notice each other. In spite of the lack of overt communication, Gordon caught a sense that he and Faulkner would be hearing about this for a long time. Assuming they were still hanging around with cops. It might be awkward, if the columnist died and they got fired for all this.
When Faulkner joined him in the car, Gordon gave him a sour look. “Well, you were right. It wasn’t our fault.”
Faulkner shrugged. “Call him again?”
“Just did.”
“Mr. Tremaine?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Gordon dialed the number and spoke to him, taking notes. When he hung up, he glanced at Faulkner briefly.
As Gordon drove away from the mall, he tried LaMott’s home and office numbers, but the columnist didn’t answer. Gordon closed his cell phone with a loud snap and put it in his pocket.
Faulkner gazed into the distance. “We need to talk to Lieutenant Kleinman. This needs more manpower, and he can authorize it.”
“Yeah.” What the hell. It had been a good job while it lasted.
Shiver on the Sky Page 51
