I found myself ignoring the on-ramp to 101 and staying on the surface streets all the way to Bridgeway, which just happened to be Sausalito’s main artery that ran past the marinas with their cabin cruisers and speedboats and fishing boats...and houseboats.
Bitch. Bitchbitchbitchbitchbitch. Five times seemed like the right number to name her. Only the fact that I didn’t know exactly where the wench’s vessel berthed kept me from turning in and...
And what, Cal? I asked myself. Even if I did know, what would I do? Kick her ass? That’s really going to get Cole to throw her over and...and what?
Acting like a stupid schoolgirl again, crush and all.
I pounded the steering wheel, then slowed down with deep breaths as I spotted a pair of Sausalito PD parked at a 7-Eleven, windows open and facing opposite directions so they could chat. The sight of the two representatives of my former profession hit me like a bucket of cold water in the face. Professionalism slammed shut on my emotions like a falling steel door.
Screw Cole, I thought. Get a grip, girl. Plenty of fish in the sea.
I proceeded down Bridgeway until it turned into Alexander and then met 101 again. The state highway was still lightly traveled and should remain so in the misty daytime until rush hour and ocean fog made their inevitable rendezvous on the Golden Gate before dusk.
I was happy to live and work in the same neighborhood where I grew up, the Mission District, now a bit more gentrified than it used to be but still full of character, and not have to commute in to work as I used to. Beat cops, even detectives, didn’t make enough to live alone in the City, but now I owned my office free and clear, as well as Molly and Madge, a 1968 Mustang that I kept in Mother’s garage. Mom didn’t drive, so I wasn’t worried about that.
I’d also paid off Mom’s house and stayed on there, and all it had cost was my career, a damaged hand, an eardrum and some skin.
I’d happily trade back if I could. Because I couldn’t, I worked hard, played harder, and lived life the hardest I could.
After the rage blew through and receded like a summer storm, my cop sense clicked back in and told me that the same hunter-green Audi had been following since before the Bridge. My subconscious had obviously noted it, but the realization only now bubbled up.
I’d intended to head back to the office, but now I didn’t necessarily want to lead whoever it was there. Besides, I wasn’t certain yet it wasn’t a coincidence...but watching in the mirror with half an eye, I noted the way the car drove, the way it kept back so it could see me, not too near and not too far. Also, the way it moved on its wheels...I was sure it was also a performance car, with stiffened suspension and four wheel drive, maybe a high-end Quattro model. Audi made some of the best factory rally cars in the world. I wished I could afford one.
Turning away from my office, I pulled suddenly into a rare open parallel parking space and shut off the car, releasing the four-point seatbelt and popping my video dash-camera from its mount. The Audi made no move to turn off or pull in behind me, but cruised on past. I recorded it as it went by, making sure to get the license plate. The driver was male, I felt sure, but he held up his folded right arm and kept his face back behind it. I caught a flash of medium-length, dark-colored hair and perhaps a light jacket before the sports sedan got too far away.
Coincidence? Not likely, and the anger suppressed only a short time ago bobbed to the surface, this time with a tangible target. Whoever followed me had to be involved somehow, or so my instincts screamed. I thought for a moment about the risk to the little girl, and whether I should back off and keep cool, but it looked like the guy had already made me. I couldn’t investigate quietly the way I had hoped to if the bad guys already had me on radar.
Fine. There was a time for subtlety and there was a time to grab balls and man up, and this was a time for a girl to grab.
Maybe it was an excess of adrenaline talking; I never could say no to its request. I buckled up again—not for legal reasons but for hard-nosed safety ones—and started the car. I left the lights off and eased out several lengths back from the Audi.
Now, you son of a bitch, we’ll see who follows who.
Redialing Mickey, I asked, “Got anything yet?”
“Yeah, I was gonna call you when I had it all.”
“Just tell me now, quick and dirty. I’m tailing a bad guy.”
“Whoa, cool. Okay, your pharmacist called several different cell numbers since Friday night, from her prepaid. Two are also prepaid cells, I think. One was a number I traced to your buddy Cole, but it’s unlisted, maybe his private number.”
“Make sure you keep that one on file.” I eased over a lane to keep the Audi in sight.
“After that she receives a call from one of those prepaids. Doesn’t have to mean anything. Everyone uses them nowadays, even you.”
I sighed audibly.
“Okay, okay. Then she gets a call on her home phone from another prepaid, but what’s weird is, it’s a number that’s almost sequential to one of the other ones she has been talking to. Like it was in the same lot, maybe bought at the same store near the same time.”
My mind chewed on that one for a moment as I drove with half my brain. “Anything else?”
“She called Cole again Sunday morning.”
“Hmm. She never said anything about that.”
“What do you think it means?”
I shifted lanes again as I rounded a corner, ducking behind a delivery truck. “No telling. That it?”
“I still have more numbers to correlate.”
“Keep at it, Mickey. I’ll call you back.” The Audi sped up and dove in between two cabs.
Using all my skill, I trailed the other through the intermittent San Francisco drizzle. Unfortunately, a one-car follow was easy for anyone to spot, no matter how expert the tail. Real surveillance required a team and three or four cars to drive in front and behind, trading off and moving in and out of view of the target. It was only a matter of time before...
There he went. My quarry had made me.
Gritting my teeth, I grunted as water fantailed behind the Audi. Its tires spun in a controlled slide around the next corner. I followed fast, using both lanes and part of the center line. My world shrank to a bubble that encompassed just us drivers charging hard through the streets of San Francisco in the drizzly mist.
Back off, Cal. You don’t have to beat him this time, just stick with him until something breaks. This guy knows something. This guy is part of it, and you’re not letting go of this lead. If you can save the kid, there won’t be any charges, no matter how many enemies you have in the Department.
Fantasies of putting a gun in the driver’s face floated next to the vision of a bound and frightened little girl, erasing all thought of lawful arrest. I would beat it out of the bastard if I had to.
Twisting through the grid of the Mission District, I followed the Audi eastward, keeping it in sight but not pressing close. This guy was good, but not as good as I was; his lines through the corners were a little less clean, a little less confident, as if he didn’t know his machine and the very edges of its limits the way I knew Molly.
Good girl, Molly. Keep the revs up.
The Audi hit a hundred as my quarry rushed the onramp onto I-80. Once on the freeway, he wove from lane to lane, gaining distance. I was ready for the driver to dive off before they crossed the Bay Bridge, but he kept going. I followed onto the eastbound lower level, Molly’s tires humming on metal mesh and bumping over joints.
With a good clear left lane for half a minute and the Audi blocked by traffic, I floored it and pulled to within a hundred yards, then settled in through the Yerba Buena Island tunnel. The tiny spot of land in the middle of the Bay formed an anchor for the two sections of the crossing.