He hadn’t stuck around to see what damage the collision had caused, but he hoped it was plenty. Only the vehicle that had collided with Cannon’s car was on the street at that moment, so he was able to back away from the intersection then make a quick U-turn and leave the scene unnoticed.
He returned the Tahoe to the garage it came from and made sure the nose was against the rear wall to hide potential damage. Nobody would have a reason to be there other than him, but he wanted to remain cautious. The vehicle wouldn’t be taken out of the garage again. He’d done what he needed to do with it, and that task was over. He climbed out, pocketed the keys, and lowered the overhead.
After walking several blocks to a main intersection, he called a rideshare company for a pickup. He would go home, listen to the police scanner, then decide what his next move would be.
Either Cannon had been killed, or he hadn’t. If he had, the job was complete, and if he hadn’t, there was still more work to do. With everyone concerned about Cannon’s welfare, the investigation into the recent murders would stall. The police had nothing anyway. The next few days would be crucial since it was closing in on the middle of the month. After May fifteenth, everything would go to shit.