“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
No introductions necessary. “Just having a pleasant moonlight drive, Mike.”
“Stow it, Ben. I just talked to Jones.”
“I told him—”
“Fortunately, he had the good sense not to listen. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know where you’re going, which makes it kind of hard for me to meet you.”
“Mike … this maniac’s got Tyrone. He’s … hurting him. He says he’ll kill him.”
“That’s what they all say. It’s a trap!”
“Mike, I have to go.”
“Fine. Pick me up. I’ll come with you.”
“I can’t do that, Mike. He’ll see us coming.”
“I’ll hide in the back.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t take the risk.”
“Ben, you’re being a damned fool!”
“Maybe so. But I’m going, just the same.”
“Ben!”
“The discussion is over, Mike.” He reached for the End button.
“Wait! Goddamn it, if you have to do this, at least take the gun I gave you. Do you have it?”
Ben hesitated. “It’s in the glove compartment.”
“Then use it.”
Ben frowned. “I don’t know how to shoot it. I don’t even know how to load it.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
“Well … I’ll give it some thought.”
“Ben! You can’t just walk in there blindly without a plan!”
“I have a plan. I’m not sure it’ll work. But I have a plan.”
“Ben! Damn you—!”
Too late. Ben pushed the button, disconnecting the line. He exited I-75 and headed west. Another couple of minutes and he’d be there. He might already be in sight of the killer, especially if he was using high-powered binoculars. Ben’s heart was beating so hard he could feel it; his hands were so sweat-drenched they kept slipping off the steering wheel.
There was no turning back now. This particular fugue had begun.
Ben stared straight ahead, letting his eyes drift toward the twinkling stars—particularly visible now that he was beyond the bright lights of the city. He couldn’t help remembering a few weeks before when he and Christina had been gazing at some of the same stars, and wishing he were back there now. This would be a wonderful time to be able to believe in angels, he thought. This would be a hell of a lot easier if he could believe there was someone, somewhere, watching over him.
“All right,” he said, just over his breath, “if Christina’s right, if I really do have some guardian angel up there, I could use some help, okay? I mean, I would really appreciate it. I have to do this, but I don’t want to, you know? Most likely, I’m—I’m not going to come out of this.” His voice caught in his throat. “I could just use some help, okay?”
“Then take the gun.”
Ben blinked. “That’s not a very angelic response.”
“I ain’t no goddamn angel.”
Ben’s head jerked back. “Earl!”
“Right the first time. And I’m tellin’ you to take the damn gun.”
Ben slammed down on the brakes, swerving wildly onto the shoulder. He twisted around toward the back of the van. “What are you doing here?”
Ben saw the silhouette of a head rise up between the two back bench seats. “I’m tryin’ to help.”
“Keep your head down!” Ben whirled around, faced the front, and eased back onto the road. If the killer was as good as his threats, he might already be watching them.
Ben hissed between his teeth. “I told you—”
“Hey, is it my fault you ain’t got the sense to lock your car?” He paused. “Ben, you can’t face this creep alone.”
“Earl, if he sees you, Tyrone’s dead. And you and me, too, probably.”
“I couldn’t let you come out here alone.”
“Do you want Tyrone to die? Do you?” Ben left the main highway and turned onto the service road leading to his destination. “Answer me! Do you?”
“Of course I don’t.”
“Then listen up. Stay on the floor and stay out of sight. Okay?”
There was no response.
“Do you understand me? Tyrone’s life is at stake, Earl.” He waited through the silence, his hands clenching the steering wheel. “Answer me!”
Earl’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I understand.”
“Will you promise to stay in the car? Out of sight?”
There was another long pause, but he finally answered. “I promise.”
Ben exhaled. He continued down the winding service road. He was dripping with sweat; he could almost feel the adrenaline surging through his body.
And he wasn’t even there yet.
He emerged from the service road and guided the van into the parking lot. There were a lot of empty places this time of night—all of them, in fact. He parked in the nearest row, then shut down the van. Without saying a word, without even thinking, he stepped out and closed the door.
It was all right ahead of him. The Buxley Oil refinery. And the killer.
Chapter 47
MIKE RAN ALL the way from his office to the sheriff’s, his unbuttoned trench coat flapping all the way. By the time he arrived, he was panting and out of breath. Maybe not as bad as he would’ve been back when he smoked, but bad, just the same.
The sheriff wasn’t there this time of night, of course. There was only one deputy on duty, a young brunette female, and Mike didn’t know her. She was standing on the far side of a transparent acrylic barrier.
“You had a prisoner in here today,” Mike said, gasping for air. “You let him go with a collar.”
The deputy looked at him cautiously. “May I ask who wants to know?”
“I’m Lieutenant Morelli. Homicide.” He flashed his badge.
The deputy snapped to attention. “Right.” She glanced at a clipboard. “That would be Earl Bonner.”
“Exactly.” Mike paused, trying to catch his breath. Thank heavens Jones had the sense to tell him Earl had smuggled himself away in Ben’s van. “Is the collar active?”
“Of course. Why? Has he violated the terms of his bail agreement?”
“No. But I need to know where he is.”
The deputy took a step back. “I’m sorry, but if he hasn’t violated bail we’re not permitted to—”
“Listen to me. Someone’s life is in danger. Maybe several people’s.”
“I’m sorry, but the procedures are—”
“I don’t give a damn about the procedures. Show me where the tracer unit is.”
“But you need a warrant.”
“I don’t have time to get a warrant!” Mike pressed himself against the acrylic; but for the barrier, he and the deputy would be standing toe-to-toe. “I’m giving you an order.”
“You can’t give me an order. I work for the sheriff’s office, not the police depart—”
Mike pounded against the wall between them. “Look, after this is over, you can file any complaint you want. You can go after me for violating procedure, due process, civil rights—whatever makes you happy. You can say I overpowered you and forced you to cooperate. I don’t care. But my idiot friend is walking into trouble and if I don’t get there fast, he’s probably going to die. And I will not stand by and let him die just because of some stupid procedure! Do you understand me? I will not let that happen!”
The two officers stared at each other, neither of them blinking. Finally, after several long seconds, the deputy set down her clipboard and buzzed him inside.
Ben started toward the office building, but he heard a loud booming voice drifting down toward him as if from the heavens. “Not in there! The refinery!”
Great. It seemed he wouldn’t even have the comfort of being inside while this drama unfolded. He would remain outside, exposed.
He veered left and headed toward the refinery. If anything, in the dead of night it was even more ominous than during the day. There was no overhead light save for the moon. No streetlights, no lights in the office windows. The thick clouds of smoke curling out and around the refinery seemed like moving shadows, taunting him, daring him to come closer.