“We’ll take I- 94,” he said, breaking the kiss.
I was a little weak in the knees, and a little out of breath, and I hated him for that but didn’t trust myself to say so. Like everything else that happened that day I’d have to file it away and figure it out later, when I had time.
I followed Phin to his Ford Bronco, climbed into the passenger seat, and didn’t look at him until we reached the expressway.
CHAPTER 24
“GOOD CALL ON THE FISH, CYNTHIA. The prime rib was too well done for my taste. Sure you don’t want any?”
Cynthia shakes her head, the napkin flapping in her mouth like a flag.
According to her driver’s license, her full name is Cynthia Paulino, and she lives in Illinois. After the movie-a cute romantic comedy with Matthew McConaughey-Alex searched the room while asking Cynthia questions about her life. She didn’t remove the gag, so the questions were all yes or no. But Alex was still able to determine that Cynthia was single, had a boyfriend who didn’t want to commit, worked for a company that sold polymers-which are plastics-and was in town to run a trade show booth. The booth gig was boring, and resulted in very few sales, but Cyn liked it because it got her out of the office and the company picked up expenses.
Alex shared as well, talking about what she had done to Lance, what her big plan was, and how she might be obsessing a tad about Jack Daniels.
“She killed the man I loved, I killed the man she loved, so we should be even. But I still can’t stop thinking about her, Cyn. Maybe part of the problem is that I like her. I mean, her sense of morality is really, really infantile. But she’s a good dresser, good with a gun, good with her fists. Kind of like an older sister. You know, before she figured out I was a serial killer, we got along pretty good. Do you have any enemies, Cyn?”
Cyn nods.
“Someone at work?”
Another nod.
“If you want to talk about it, I’ll take your gag out. But a warning first: If you start begging for your life, or try to scream for help, I’ll cut you from your crotch to your breastbone. Got it?”
Cyn bobs her head up and down, then spits out the napkin.
“Can I have some water?” she asks, voice horse.
“No. I like your voice that way. Kind of sexy. Now tell me about this enemy.”
“Her…her name is Gina. Works in Accounting. Has been a real bitch ever since I started there.”
Alex flips onto her stomach, gathering a pillow under her to keep her head propped up.
“What did she do to you?”
“Little things at first. Like asking me really rudely if this is my natural hair color. I mean, of course it isn’t. But she waits until there are people around to try to get a laugh.”
Alex nods. “I hate her already. What else?”
Cyn’s lower lip quivers, but she manages to work through it. “Every time I do one of these trade shows, she acts like a Nazi with the expense account. I mean, if I skip lunch and get a bigger dinner to compensate, she won’t allow it.”
“I bet she’s tough with booze too.”
“No liquor at all, even if I’m taking customers out. They want me to get sales, but they don’t want me to buy a round of beers first? That’s stupid.”
Alex agrees. “Bitch. What else?”
“I can’t be sure, but I think she started a rumor…a rumor…”
Alex reaches out, wipes a tear off Cyn’s face. “Don’t cry. It’s okay. Everywhere I go, people talk about me in whispers. Right in front of me, like I’m blind and deaf as well as scarred. Words can hurt, Cyn. Sometimes they can hurt worse than anything.”
“Please…oh God…please…I don’t want to die…”
Alex frowns, only half of her face responding to the command her brain sends to her mouth.
“Cynthia, we’re having a nice conversation here. Don’t ruin it.”
“Gina…G-Gina doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Nothing matters. It’s all…all bullshit. I still want to get married, have kids. I don’t wanna-”
Alex sighs, stuffs the napkin back into Cynthia’s mouth. She wonders if Jack’s ex-husband is in his room yet, and uses the phone to try him. It rings and rings. Earlier, Alex had called from the lobby phone and let it ring, so she should have gotten a busy signal. Does that mean Alan is in his room and answered the phone earlier? Or that someone in the lobby found a phone off the hook and hung up?
After five more rings, Alex hangs up. She yawns, exhaustion washing over her. A few hours of sleep would be a smart idea. Especially since she wants to tune in and watch Lance during his last moments, which will happen in less than five hours.
Alex looks at Cynthia.
“I’m bushed. How about you, Cyn? Must have been a long day for you. Want to get some shut-eye?”
Cyn looks uncertain, but she nods.
“You should probably go to the bathroom first. If I untie your legs will you walk to the bathroom without giving me trouble?”
A nod. Alex uses the steak knife to cut the nylons binding Cyn’s legs. Cynthia stumbles when she tries to stand, but Alex catches her under the arm and helps her keep her footing.
Cyn looks at the toilet, then looks at Alex. Alex laughs.
“No, I don’t want to watch, Cyn. I’m not a pervert. Let me help you with your pants.”
Alex reaches down and shoves Cyn backward, into the shower. Less mess there.
With her hands tied Cyn lands hard on her butt. As she starts to scream Alex forces the steak knife between her ribs, the blade twitching in her grip as Cyn’s heart tries to keep beating.
Alex checks her uniform, happy that she managed to keep it blood-free. As Cyn dies, feebly trying to remove the knife-impossible because suction is keeping it in-Alex drops her pants and urinates in the toilet.
“Now who’s the pervert?” she says, closing the shower curtain to block Cynthia’s staring. Then she wanders back to bed, undresses, orders a wake-up call for five a.m., and sends Jack the latest picture of Lance, along with another text message. She falls asleep to a pay-per-view slasher movie, amused because the writer got the violence all wrong.
CHAPTER 25
THE PHONE WOKE ME UP. In the darkness of the Bronco’s front seat, I fumbled around for my purse and located it by my feet. On the third ring I fished it out and flipped the top open, hearing several beeps.
Alex. Sending me another picture. Phin glanced over at me while I accessed it.
Lance appeared even worse than before, his face contorted with pain and blurred by motion. The lighting was a little better this time, the burn marks on his chest darker and more pronounced. I held it up for Phin, who divided his attention between the photo and the road.
“Are those letters?”
“Where?”
“His wounds,” Phin said. “Connect the dots.”
I traced my fingernail over the burns, and the letters seemed to pop out at me.
There was also a text message.
FOUR HOURS LEFT.
“What the hell is Zd?” I asked.
“One of the elements? Zirconium?”
“That’s Zr.”
“Maybe an abbreviation. Or initials.”
I closed my eyes, tried to think. Zd meant absolutely nothing to me. Maybe something in connection with Lance? Bomb squads? Some kind of explosives or equipment? Or something to do with Milwaukee?
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Just across the Wisconsin border. Got about forty minutes left.”
I wanted to call Herb, but I promised myself I wouldn’t bother him again. Harry was probably still occupied with the Feds. Hajek was almost certainly occupied with the authorities as well, and I had no delusions that a few strands of hair turned him from adversary into ally. That left Detective Tom Mankowski, still in Indiana. I fished out my personal cell and found his number.