PARKER HOYT IS again pacing in his office when his special phone rings, and he nearly trips over his own feet, rushing to get to it.
He grabs it, noting his hand is moist from worry.
“Yes?”
Hiss, pop, crackle of static.
“Hello?” he says.
Another burst of static, and a voice says, “It’s over.”
He collapses in his chair with relief. “Thank God.”
The voice says, “You should get out of town. Like, now.”
“Why?” he asks. “You told me it was over.”
“Well, the phone must have dropped the first part,” the voice says. “It’s over because CANARY’s been recovered and she’s safe.”
Parker closes his eyes, willing that the voice on the other end of the line will say something else, hoping he is pulling some sort of stunt to get more pay, more prestige, more anything.
“What happened?” Parker asks.
“A female shooter ambushed CANARY and Grissom as they were leaving a property in Virginia that belonged to CANARY’s dad. Grissom did her job, and CANARY’s still alive.”
Damn, damn, damn, he thinks.
The shooter.
Marsha Gray, of course. Good lord.
“Is the shooter dead?”
“Not at the moment,” the caller says. “She took three nine-millimeter rounds to the chest, broke her sternum and a few ribs. She’s unconscious at the moment.”
Marsha Gray, alive.
All right, he thinks. Her word against his. It’ll mean—
“Another thing,” the caller says. “She had an iPhone with her. Could only open it with her thumbprint, but I managed to do so. Found lots of interesting recordings there…taped conversations between you and her.”
A long pause and Parker feels like he’s about five seconds away from having a coronary event.
“Name your price,” he says. “I need to have that iPhone.”
“We’ll deal later,” the voice says. “In the meantime, I gotta go.”
Parker sits up in his chair. “Wait, wait, please…don’t hang up.”
“Make it quick.”
Parker rubs his head. “You…are you in a position…I mean, can you…”
“Can I what?”
Parker takes a deep breath that makes him feel like knives are being dug into his lungs. “Can you…finish the shooter’s mission?”
No reply.
The hiss of static.
More crackling and popping noises.
Is his caller still there?
The voice speaks up, tone firm.
“I’ll think about it.”
And hangs up.