by Robert Pobi
Which of course brought her to Oscar’s doorstep.
Oscar had no doubt modified the ammunition for her, but it looked like he had stolen the original Nosler rounds from a job he had done for one racist cop and erstwhile arms dealer, Detective Michael Atchison—who, it turned out, had stolen it from a man named Margolis after killing him for a reason they would probably never know.
But Oscar fucked up. He stole fifty rounds from the wrong people so he could give it to a girl who had somehow become a friend—Ruby Quaid, who was by now living under the name of Connie Ridzik. Ruby Quaid was nothing else if not adaptable, and getting men to like her was one of her strongest traits. That duffel bag and blue sweater up in the office above the shop that afternoon had been hers.
He had missed it because it had been in plain sight. Like the modified round that had been on the mantel the first time they were there.
Hiding in plain sight.
Oscar had modified the rounds for her, using a rock that had fallen from the sky as a source for the iron in her skimmed rounds. They’d probably never know why Ruby had chosen meteoric iron, only that it held some significance.
That morning Lucas and Whitaker visited him must have been a wake-up. Maybe he got scared. Or maybe he didn’t care anymore. After all, the cancer feeding on him with an exponential appetite no doubt delivered a little extra dose of don’t-give-a-fuck-ism that tended to be a side effect of the disease.
And when they had explained the round to Atchison, it hadn’t been a stretch for him to figure out which gunsmith they had spoken with. So he and Roberts paid old Oscar a visit. The crime-scene people said two people had killed him, and ballistics matched the slugs to the same pistol that had killed Margolis earlier and would try to kill Dingo later. So Atchison and Roberts went to work on Oscar to find out where the ammunition he had stolen from them had gone.
Maybe he had held up, maybe he had spilled what he knew. But he died anyway.
The CSI minions were certain that after Atchison and Roberts left Oscar’s dead body in the chair by the fire, a third person had visited. Someone with a key.
Someone who had taken the .300 round from the display on the mantel—no doubt one of Ruby’s magical rounds.
Ruby.
She had gone in to clean up all signs of herself.
But she had forgotten the menu. The same one that Atchison had in his basement. And Margolis had in his house.
Had she been with all of them at some point? Was she the mystery girlfriend that Atchison had heard about from Margolis’s neighbors? Had the waitress uniform in Atchison’s closet been hers as well? Which meant that maybe she had used Atchison’s pistol to kill Margolis. Maybe she had taken the Nosler rounds from his place. Maybe Atchison had killed Oscar for some other reason.
There were a dozen ways to string the narrative, but they all came back to a child who had never really had a chance at a decent life.
It was dizzying to think about, and Lucas realized that he was much happier unraveling the mysteries of the cosmos because they were simpler than the dramas that continually played out in the theater of the human soul.
The one aspect Whitaker didn’t understand was why Ruby hadn’t started her killing with Doyle. But Lucas saw that it reflected the way she had handled the terrorist cell claiming ownership as well as the murder of Laroche; she wasn’t welded to ideas; she was welded to people. And Doyle had tried to help her father, which had no doubt saved him; he was her people, one of the tribe. That he had failed didn’t matter; that he had tried to help did.
And through it all had been Whitaker. Lucas had asked for her after that first night, but when he looked back on events with the clarity of resolution, he now knew that Kehoe had set him up. Another one of his moves.
She was a great agent. And a decent human being. He was thinking that he had never asked for her first name when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket.
It was a text from Whitaker.
It displayed a single word: Alice.
Lucas smiled and turned back to the scene in the hospital room.
Hector and Damien were explaining the made-up Luigi board game to Dingo, who had already chewed through half of his candy necklace. Alisha was sitting on Laurie’s lap in one of the ugly vinyl chairs, just enjoying being kids for a moment. Maude was helping Erin trim the stems of the flowers on the window ledge, and he realized that they had all grown up a little in the past couple of days. He, too, maybe.
Outside, the snow had started back up.
Lucas walked to the window and pulled the curtains.
Acknowledgments
The Big Hug goes to my agent and friend, Jill Marr, for always being an honest and constructive voice at the edge of reason (and for using her magic wand at all the critical times)—once again, you have changed my life. Kelley Ragland at Minotaur also gets a seat in the lifeboat—her support came at a time when I needed someone else to see the magic—thank you for setting this big monster in motion (and for grinning while doing it). Keith Kahla, my editor at Minotaur, who is now officially a brother in arms—his editorial chops, sense of humor, and begrudging kindness not only won me over, but forced me to rise to the occasion; without him, this truly would be a lesser book. Hector DeJean for seeing the world through a similar prism and Paul Hochman for having read all the same books as I did growing up—my marketing and PR gurus. Alice Pfeifer, who is too young to remember The Jam, but should have a song named after her nonetheless. And of course none of this would be possible if Andrew Martin hadn’t put all of these people together to do that voodoo that they do—give the man a drink; he’s earned it.
Everyone at the Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agency, who manage to keep my life organized and the paperwork flowing flawlessly (which is no small feat when your client does not own a cell phone and spends most of his time at a cabin in the mountains, preferring to be left alone): Andrea Cavallaro for getting my work published in more than twenty countries (all while fighting Vikings on her days off); Thao Le, for making sure I cash the checks; Elise Capron for holding the lines; and Sandra Dijkstra, who makes sure everyone has a sharp sword. I cannot see fighting any of these battles without you.
My friend and former editor, Kevin Smith, for talking me into putting down the pointy objects on more than one occasion; Johnny Russo, for not getting mad all the times they kicked us out of the Friars Club; Eyre Price for always helping me see the end of the story when I thought I had walked right by it.
I also need to thank all of the foreign publishers who stood behind my work from the beginning—I now have readers around the globe, which was something I never saw coming; the earth is indeed flat.
As always, I have to thank the Writer who made me want to do this above everything else—Rod Whitaker. He gave me a high bar to aim for. And made it look easy.
I would also like to thank Shane Black, John Carpenter, Walter Hill, and Christopher McQuarrie for teaching me more about storytelling than I could ever remember—their fingerprints are all over this thing.
Gene Simmons for all the times he told me to go big. And for the encouragement. The Godzilla conversation still stands out. Thank you.
Murray Head, for telling me to embrace the hard times and put it into my work. And for always giving me a place to stay.
An unsung hero in the novelist’s life is the beta reader, and Diane Laheurte is the gold standard—you are the best.
John Roberts, without whose influence Lucas would never have found his way into a classroom.
And all the people behind the curtain who had a hand in this happening—you know who you are.
Also by Robert Pobi
Bloodman (published in Canada as Eye of the Storm)
American Woman (published in Canada as Harvest)
Mannheim Rex
About the Author
ROBERT POBI is the internationally bestselling author of three previous novels. City of Windows is the first book in the Lucas Page series. He divides his time
between the United States and Canada.
Visit the author’s website at www.robertpobi.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Acknowledgments
Also by Robert Pobi
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by Minotaur Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.
CITY OF WINDOWS. Copyright © 2019 by Robert Pobi. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover design by Pete Garceau
Cover photograph by Humza Deas
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-29394-7 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-24092-7 (international, sold outside the U.S., subject to rights availability)
ISBN 978-1-250-29395-4 (ebook)
eISBN 9781250293954
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact your local bookseller or the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First U.S. Edition: August 2019
First International Edition: August 2019
