“And I do love Jimmy. But I’m not in love with him. I’ve only ever been in love with you.”
“It’s just us, honey. Me and you against the world. Skin on skin. No matter where you are.”
“So it’s not really retirement if I’m not spending it with you.”
“But you’re going back?”
“For now. I owe Jimmy a smooth exit.”
“You are one classy lady.”
“Stop it. You need time to finish things off with Sybil anyway. And then there’s that little project you’re planning. You think this is enough money?”
“One hundred grand in untraceable bills? Definitely. Robertson is going to wish he never met me.”
In December, Paul Robertson was in Colorado, standing with Vishnu Industries’s security director outside the chain-link fence surrounding their research campus. A light snow was whipping around in the wind. His hands were in his overcoat pockets. There was a hole cut in the fence and multiple tracks in the snow leading into the woods.
The security director, a black man wearing a military-style parka, rubbed his hands together to warm them. “Our guys followed the tracks through the woods to the state highway. Looks like there was a vehicle parked on the side of the road.”
“Anyone notice it?”
“Road is quiet at night. Sheriffs only come through one time on patrol. We’ve seen the surveillance footage from the Stop N Go to the north and Grady’s Gas to the south, but it’s all locals.”
“Won’t matter. It’s all bullshit. I still think our forensics team will find that someone hacked the computers, stole the code and the records without even coming on site.”
“You think you can track them?”
“We’ll do our best. But it’s a dangerous world. Hackers are always testing systems, looking for low-hanging fruit. If you want to avoid problems in the future, you need a security upgrade.”
“So this is the pitch?”
Robertson shrugged. “The main office will be in touch.”
They shook hands. Robertson got into his rented Ford Explorer, turned on the heated seat, and drove back around the perimeter to the access road. He still had time to drive to Denver today. He’d be back in Washington, DC, tomorrow evening in time to take Martha to dinner at the Thai place she liked. He should have moved to the private sector a long time ago. Twice the pay and half the hours.
On his way down the canyon, he decided to pull into a Travel Ace truck stop to eat dinner. The night had come on, and the snow was heavy now. Fat wet flakes covered the windshield just as fast at the wipers could clear them off. The front parking was full, so he had to park around the side of the building. He climbed out of the truck into the muddy slush and made his way inside.
Tony, driving a stolen utility van, was following Robertson down the canyon. When he pulled into the Travel Ace, Tony pulled in behind him and stopped at the outside of the parking lot where he watched Robertson park and go inside. Then he parked in the spot next to Robertson’s Explorer. He pulled up the hood on his parka, went into the truck stop, and glanced up and down the aisles of the convenience store, but no Robertson. He looked into the restaurant. Robertson was sitting at a table looking in a menu. Tony smiled. Perfect. He went back outside. The wind was driving the snow horizontally across the lot. People had their heads down, hurrying to get inside or into their cars. He stepped into the space between the Explorer and the utility van, lay down in the slush, and slid under the SUV. He used a penlight to find the brake line and cut into it with a pipe cutter until the brake fluid was leaking at a steady drip. By the time he slid out from under the truck and got to his feet, his pants legs and his left shoulder were sopping and his teeth were chattering. He stomped around for a few minutes in hopes of knocking some of the slush off the back of his parka. Then he got into the van, turned up the heat, and moved to a spot where he’d be able to follow the Explorer when it left.
Twenty minutes later, Tony watched Robertson come out the truck stop with a to-go coffee, get in the Explorer, and continue on his way. Tony pulled out after him. The roadway was slick, and there were a lot of cars on the canyon road, their headlights bobbing in the snowy gloom. His wipers were icing up. He pushed the heater to Defrost and the fan up to High. Some cars were creeping along, others were barreling down the road and passing at every opportunity. Tony was right behind Robertson, but he wasn’t worried about being spotted. He watched Robertson tap his brakes as he came up on an old pickup truck. A Suburban blew past all three of them, throwing slush as it flew by.
A sign indicated switchbacks. The road began to snake. The ravine on the right was a black hole. Robertson was tapping the Explorer’s brakes, but it didn’t seem to make any difference to its speed. The pickup truck slid to the right. The driver steered against the slide. The back end of the pickup truck swished from side to side but straightened out. The pickup truck eased toward the middle of the road as if the driver couldn’t tell where the outer edge of the road was. A semitruck was huffing up the road toward them. It sounded its horn. The pickup began to ease over into its own lane, but the Explorer was moving too fast, its brake lights burning red. It veered right to miss hitting the pickup, but it didn’t veer enough. Its left front end clipped the right back bumper of the pickup, causing it to bounce into the oncoming lane. The Explorer spun sideways and disappeared into the ravine. The semitruck, horn blaring, smashed the left front of the pickup and dragged it up the canyon.
Tony swerved around the truck, managing to keep two wheels on the road. Then he put on his flashers and pulled over onto the right of way. He got out the passenger’s side of the van and walked back to the point where the Explorer had left the road. The traffic crawled past the wrecked pickup and semi. Across the way, the truck driver, in coveralls and a cowboy hat, was setting out road flares. Tony looked down into the ravine, but he couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t tell how steep the grade was or how far down the Explorer was or how many pieces it was in. And he wasn’t going to screw up this beautiful accident by crawling down there to put a bullet in Robertson’s head. How many people were even aware that the Explorer had gone off the road? It could sit down there until spring.
He trudged back to the van, flipped on his turn signal, and waited for a long gap in the traffic before he eased back on the road and continued down the canyon to the deserted parking lot where he’d left his Cadillac Escalade. It was still there. He turned it on and scraped the snow off the windows. Then he poured a five-gallon can of gas over the inside of the utility van, pulled off his parka and tossed it in the van, and set the van on fire. The fire was roaring inside the van as he pulled out of the parking lot and drove back to his motel. It was a good night to watch TV and order some pizza.
Two days later, Tony was traveling the interstate south from Minneapolis. A storm had blown through the day before, leaving five inches of snow in its wake, and the snowplows had piled the snow deep onto the sides of the road. Just as Tony was entering the interchange east of Kickapoo Creek, he got a call on his smartphone, which he took via the interface in the Escalade. He didn’t know the number of the caller, but no one knew this number, so his interest was piqued. “Hello?”
“You know who this is?”
It was Garcia’s voice. “Yes.”
“I know you did it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Robertson.”
“I don’t have the slightest idea where he is.”
“When you lie, you are even more convincing than when you tell the truth. That’s your tell.”
“What’s this about?”
“I had to be sure I was right.” She ended the call.
Tony got that spooky feeling that someone was watching him that he couldn’t see. He exited the interstate downtown, drove up to city hall, back down to the county courthouse, and over the bridge headed toward the airport. No one was following him. He continued south of town through the snow-covered corn stubble until he came to a gate
d community situated next to a lake. The gate opened when he rolled up. He meandered down the winding streets, the driveways scraped clean and the extra snow piled into hills at the end of the cul-de-sacs. Up ahead on the left was Sybil’s house. But something wasn’t right. A red Sentra was parked in her driveway. He drove on by without slowing down and continued up the hill to the clubhouse, where he pulled into a parking spot with a good view of the street and called Sybil.
“Syb? It’s C.D.”
“Where are you? I thought you’d be home by now.”
“I got a late start out of the Twin Cities this morning. And there was a fender bender just this side of the Iowa border.”
“But you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Didn’t want you to worry. That’s why I called. I should be there in an hour. Do you want to go out to eat?”
“I’m already cooking.”
“Super. See you in an hour.” He ended the call.
I’m already cooking. No one who knew her would believe that. But maybe she really was cooking. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe Garcia was testing him. Maybe she figured that if he ran, he must be guilty. She couldn’t go after him for Robertson. She didn’t want that government-sponsored crime spree out in the open. That had congressional oversight committee written all over it. No, she was messing with his head, pure and simple. All he had to do was keep his cool.
He waited forty-five minutes and then drove back to Sybil’s house. The Sentra was still in her driveway. He parked beside it and went in the front door.
“There you are!” Sybil came into the front hall from the kitchen. She had an apron on over her dress. “It’s about time you got here. Your friend has been here over an hour.” She kissed him. “We’re in the kitchen.”
He hung up his overcoat and moved his Glock into the pocket of his suit jacket. He didn’t want to kill anyone in Sybil’s house, and he wasn’t sure if their relationship was strong enough for him to sell it to her afterward, but if Garcia had sent someone to kill him, he wouldn’t have any other choice.
He went into the kitchen. Garcia, wearing her usual black pantsuit, was standing at the granite counter, a cutting board covered with chopped vegetables in front of her. The knife was in easy reach.
“Clara,” Tony said. “What a surprise.” He squeezed her shoulder and kissed her cheek.
She smiled. “I had some business in town. It finished up early, and I remembered that you were here.”
Sybil put a covered casserole on the stove top and closed the oven door. “I didn’t even know you’d told your work friends about us.”
“C.D.’s a private sort of guy,” Garcia said. “But when you get to know him, he really opens up.”
Sybil glanced from Garcia to Tony. “You security consultants and your privacy. I’ve been pumping Clara for an hour, and I haven’t learned anything.”
“I’m sorry,” Garcia said. “It’s an occupational hazard. Easiest way not to tell a secret accidentally.” She turned to Tony. “I’ve got something for you out in the car. Why don’t you walk with me?”
They walked out into the evening cold. The outside lights were on, but the street was deserted and silent in the way heavy snow nights were. Tony put his hand in his jacket pocket. Garcia pressed the Sentra’s fob to unlock it. “Get in.”
They sat in the front seat. Tony was looking at Garcia’s face, but he was concentrating on her hands. If she went for her gun, he was going to kill her, right there in the driveway. He didn’t care how many neighbors heard or how many opened their doors to see what was going on. Being identified was always better than being dead.
“Robertson is alive,” she said. “I know that’s got to hurt.”
Tony started to speak.
“Don’t bother to deny it. Got a picture of you off a security camera at a Denver motel. There’s just too many to avoid them all anymore.”
“So where does that leave us?”
“You had your chance. You’re done. You leave him be, or I’ll hound you off the face of the earth.”
“And you’re here to prove you can find me whenever you want.”
She nodded. “You’re a smart guy. Act smart. Fuck this woman and plan your next score in the peace and quiet.”
“No disrespect intended,” Tony said. “It’s just hard to let someone off the hook after they’ve murdered your partners. Maybe I overstepped my bounds just a little bit. Let bygones be bygones?”
“If you’re done with Robertson.”
They shook hands.
“We better get back in,” Tony said. “Or Sybil will think we’re out here smooching.”
Later, after Garcia left, Tony wiped down the kitchen counters while Sybil loaded the dishwasher. “You really went above and beyond,” Tony said. “You didn’t have to cook.”
“I wanted to,” she replied. “That’s the first time I ever met one of your friends.”
As she shut the door to the dishwasher, Tony came up behind her, put his arms around her, and kissed her neck. She turned in his arms and kissed him back. “There was something about her. Something guarded, know what I mean?”
“She just lost a friend. She feels responsible. That’s what we were talking about outside.”
“Killed at work?”
“Yeah. Guy with a wife and kids—grown kids, but still.”
“You don’t do anything that dangerous?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes you don’t know how dangerous a situation is until you’re already in it. That’s when it’s risky.”
“I hope you’re never in a situation like that again.”
“Me too.”
She kissed him again. “Come to bed.”
“In a minute. I need to make a call.”
She gave him a look that said, “You better not be long.” He went out into the garage, shut the door, and called Nicole on his backup phone. “Can you talk?”
“I’ve got a minute.”
“Garcia found me. Robertson’s still alive. She warned me off him. I’m dumping this phone. You still got the phone we bought at the Save-U-Mart?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll call you on that.”
“You done with Robertson?”
“Yeah. Garcia’s got too many resources.”
“So you’re on the run?”
“I’m not saying anything else on this phone. Goodbye.”
Tony bolted the garage door as he went inside, checked the locks on the patio door and the front door, and kicked off his shoes in the hall before he padded back to the bedroom. He’d been hoping to stay with Sybil until after the holidays, but now he was going to have to disappear. It was a shame to leave her alone at Christmas, but it couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t safe here anymore, and she wasn’t safe with him.
Candles on the dresser lit the bedroom, the light reflecting from the mirror. Sybil lay in bed, her hair loose around her shoulders, the covers pulled up under her arms.
“I thought you’d be too tired,” Tony said.
“I’m not through with you yet.”
Tony took off his clothes in the dark by an armchair and palmed his Glock. If Garcia sent someone to kill him, tonight would be the night. As he got to his side of the bed, he knelt and laid his Glock on the carpet underneath it.
“What are you doing?” Sybil murmured.
“Thought I felt something with my foot. I was wrong.”
He slipped in beside her and ran his hand along her naked torso. He could feel her heavy socks rub against his legs. “Socks? Really?”
“It’s freezing.”
He smiled. “Not for long.”
The next morning, Nicole woke up early. It was still dark. She could have tried to go back to sleep, but she didn’t want to. She knew that life was changing, that she was never going to make James truly happy, that there was no reason to drag things out anymore, that she was going to go back to being her true self full time. She got out of bed, leaving Denison to sleep. She eased open the
door to her closet so that the hinge wouldn’t creak and found her go bag pushed back into the corner. She dragged it out, felt inside for the Save-U-Mart phone, and then carried the bag out into the hall, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible. The phone battery was dead. She padded down the hall to the kitchen, tossed the bag onto the counter, found the charger, and plugged in the phone. While it was charging, she made coffee.
Two hours’ time difference. Tony would be up by now. She sat on a stool with her coffee in front of her and the phone in her hand. Was she really going to do it? Was she really going to give up this cushy life? Truth was, she could probably hang on indefinitely: James being disappointed now and again, wanting her to change, her giving him his way just enough of the time to keep hope alive. But why should she when her good life was out there waiting for her? When her man, the one who never bored her, the one who always had her back, the one who—love wasn’t even a strong enough word. They were bound together in their deepest places by everything they’d done together. She speed-dialed the number. It rang over and over. She hung up. Drank her coffee. Listened to the morning traffic. Her phone rang.
“Yeah?” Tony asked.
“Remember that Christmas we did that resort in Hawaii?”
Tony chuckled. “That was a good time.”
“Meet me in LA on Friday.”
“You ready for a new name?”
“Yeah. I’ll never be Nicole again.”
“I’ll get the paperwork lined up. I think there’s still a guy in Omaha who makes the good stuff. Any name you’d prefer?”
“You choose.”
“Love you.”
“Love you.”
She slipped back into the bedroom, pulled her nightgown off over her head, and slid back into bed. Denison was lying in his back, his mouth slightly open, his face peaceful. He was a good man. It would be hard for him, but it was for the best. Sometimes, over the last few years, she hadn’t really known what she’d wanted—she’d felt like she needed to change, to make her life somehow easier. But now she knew that she never would. The straight life just wasn’t going to fill her up. Traveling, grifting, the thrill of the hunt, being always with her one true love no matter what happened—that was the life she was meant for. All that was left was to leave this world behind.
The Murder Run Page 18
