part0023

EVAN COULDN’T GET Ryder’s words out of his head. He walked the length of the block back to his car with his head held low, his heart lower. He was tired. He’d had a long day. An eventful day. That was his excuse for not being more vigilant. In case the long, eventful day wasn’t quite over yet.

He dropped wearily into the seat of the courtesy car he was driving while his ‘69 Corvette Stingray was in the shop. Thank God he didn’t have to wrestle with an ageing muscle car to get home.

A ‘69 Corvette Stingray doesn’t have any back seats. Sometimes that’s a pain in the butt, sometimes it’s a good thing. It would’ve been a good thing tonight. Because that way Lydia Strange couldn’t have been hiding in the back waiting for him. Lydia didn’t wear perfume. Or smoke. There was nothing to give her away.

He rested his hands on top of the wheel, threw his head backwards against the headrest. Closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

He barely flinched when Lydia rose up silently behind him and touched the cold steel of the suppressor on the back of his neck. Like why wouldn’t this be happening? How else could his day have ended? She must have waited outside after leaving him earlier, followed him here.

‘Hello Lydia. Missing me already?’

She twisted the suppressor harder into his neck.

‘You hit the horn or do anything else stupid I’ll put a bullet in the back of your head and take the consequences. What’s going on down there?’

‘A man’s been murdered in that house.’

‘Did you kill him?’

It was a stupid question. But even stupid questions deserve an answer when the person doing the asking has a gun to your head. And is a little unbalanced.

‘No. I’d have liked to. He’s a pedophile. But somebody beat me to it.’

The words sent a shiver through him that made the gun on his neck seem like a minor irritation, no more troublesome than a mosquito bite. Too late he realized he’d said too much. He was tired, after all.

She came alert at the mention of pedophiles. In the mirror her eyes clicked into sharper focus. She didn’t say anything. He knew she recognized the importance of the information to her own single-minded purpose.

‘You found him.’

‘Yep.’ He gave a small laugh that didn’t start to do justice to the situation. ‘I seem to be good at finding dead bodies at the moment.’

‘Why’d they let you go?’

‘Because the fat detective knows me. He likes me.’

He should have known detective was another trigger word, had her sitting forward in the seat, an excited edge to her voice.

‘Is Guillory there?’

‘Why don’t you go take a look for yourself?’

She drew back her arm sharply, slashed him across the cheek and ear with the gun. The additional length and weight of the silencer gave the blow added momentum. It hit hard, made his head ring. Then she said something that did a damn sight more than make his head ring, made him feel as if he’d been punched by an angry bear.

‘Give me your wallet.’

He tried to fill his voice with confusion, hoped it didn’t sound to her like dread, as it did in his own ears.

‘Throw it on the back seat.’

She couldn’t know what was in it. Already he was learning not to underestimate her. She’d piece it all together as soon as she saw the earring. He tried stalling nonetheless.

‘Why do you want it?’

‘Because I caught you creeping around Todd’s apartment looking for information on the pedophiles who hired him. Now here you are breaking into a pedophile’s house in the middle of the night. I want to know what you found.’

‘I told you. A dead body. That’s kind of difficult to ignore when you’re trying to search a house.’

‘Give it here anyway.’

He met her eyes in the mirror, wasn’t sure what he saw staring back at him. An undeniable determination to kill him if necessary, if that’s what it took. There was something else behind it, a hint of desperation that she’d gotten herself into something that had spiraled out of control and she didn’t know how to make it stop. That maybe she’d happily pull the trigger and blow his brains all over the windshield because that would put an end to it if nothing else.

Or maybe she just had crazy eyes.

He pulled out his wallet, threw it over his shoulder.

She picked it up off the back seat, went through it with a lot more thoroughness than the cop had. He guessed she was looking for a slip of paper, some information scribbled down.

She certainly wasn’t looking for an earring. But when she found it, she knew she’d hit pay dirt. It was the only thing you wouldn’t expect to find in a man’s wallet.

In the mirror he watched her lift it out, saw the aha moment register in her face. Then a slight frown on her forehead as she felt the stickiness of it. Although this time he guessed she was wrong in the conclusion she jumped to. He’d bet she thought it was blood, not bile.

So what? One bodily fluid is much the same as another. Both are sufficient to place a person where they shouldn’t be.

‘What’s this?’

‘What’s it look like?’

She hit him again with the gun even if her heart wasn’t in it. Because she wasn’t a stupid woman, far from it. Her mind was too busy pulling together the information she already had. Suddenly she let out a whoop of almost girlish joy.

‘Ha! It’s Guillory’s earring. She killed him. You’re trying to protect her.’

He kept his eyes on the dash, wouldn’t meet hers in the mirror.

‘Look at me and tell me I’m wrong.’

He knew there was a spiteful gleam in her eye to match the breathless excitement in her voice. Then it was as if a switch had been flicked, all the girlish charm gone.

‘Did she kill him?’

There was no need to flinch this time, no need to worry about her striking him. Because she had ears that worked every bit as well as her mind. She knew the ring of truth—and the myriad emotions behind it—when she heard it. She held the earring between her finger and thumb, dangled it where he could see it in the mirror.

‘Maybe I should take a walk down the street, give this to the fat detective. Tell him where I got it. And where you got it.’

He ignored her. She was only taunting him. She was less likely to hand it over than he was. For him it was something he wished he’d never found. Something that would only bring him pain, strike a wedge between himself and Guillory. For her it was an unlooked-for piece of luck. It was a weapon.

‘Just get out the car,’ he said, wanting her gone now.

‘In a minute. Give me your phone.’

He knew why she wanted it. She wanted Guillory’s number. So that she could put her new-found weapon to work. The thought of what it would do to Guillory’s fragile state of mind when she received a text from Lydia out of the blue— guess what I’ve got —made him feel sick.

He was taking too long thinking about it, heard the sound of the back door opening. He knew what was coming.

‘Detective Fatso is going to think it’s his birthday.’

‘So give it to him.’

That wiped the smugness off her face. But only for a second. The back door opened a little wider.

‘If that’s the way you want to play it.’

‘Go if you’re going to.’

Said with more conviction than he felt. Holding her eyes in the mirror. Neither of them blinking. Then a change in hers.

‘Prison’s a bad place for a cop.’

And now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe she’d give Ryder the earring after all. Sit back and watch the fireworks. Knowing all the while that if that didn’t put Guillory behind bars, condemn her to a living hell, she could revert to plan A and do whatever she had in mind before the unexpected earring bonus. Win-win all round for the psychopath.

‘I’m glad you’re not my friend. Last chance.’

The maddening confidence in her voice, the knowledge that out of all of them she had the least to lose, made him squeeze the wheel until it flexed to stop himself from spinning around, flailing wildly at her head. Because she’d be expecting it. She’d duck under the blind swing, put a bullet in his spine through the seat. What good would that do any of them?

The door was all the way open now. He stared through the windshield at the group of cops down the street. Any second, one of them would look their way, see the open door. He’d stride down the street to investigate. Face twisted in disgust, thinking it was some rubbernecker or ambulance chaser to be sent on their way with a righteous foot up their ass.

Or if not appear, then at least look up. Which is what one of them did now.

At the same moment, in the absolute quiet, he heard the gritty crunch of Lydia’s shoe on the sidewalk.

The cop leaned towards his colleague. Pointed at the car. Lydia now standing half in, half out of the car saw it too.

‘I’m going to wave to him in five seconds.’

Without warning she banged hard on the roof with the side of her fist.

In the quiet of the street it was like a scream.

She brought her fist down again, harder still, rocked the car on its suspension.

‘I said okay. Get in the damn car. Close the door.’

He pulled out his phone, threw it on the back seat.

It didn’t take her long to find Guillory’s number. For a brief moment he prayed that she’d be stupid or careless, would forward the number to her own phone, leave a trail. But she wasn’t either of those things. She took a quick photo of Guillory’s details, her eyes lighting up at the second unlooked-for bonus of the night—an address to go with the phone number she was after. Then she was gone.

He pulled away, drove slowly past Garfield’s house. Ryder was on the sidewalk, raised a hand as he drove by. It was the friendliest gesture he’d ever made towards Evan.