I turned on the radio, listened to the news, traffic reports.
Wasted nearly ten minutes.
I was about to turn the key when my cell phone rang. I glanced at it, saw that it was HOME calling, and answered.
“Grace?”
“Hi, Dad. Did you find Stuart?”
“No, sweetheart. If I had, I’d’ve called you.”
“I thought, maybe, if you’d found him, but he was, you know... you’d wait till you got home to tell me.”
“I haven’t found him, one way or another. I dropped by his place, but there’s no one here. Not him, or his dad.”
“Okay.” She paused. “This is probably nothing.”
I felt a small chill run the length of my spine. “What, honey?”
“There’s this guy parked across the street, kind of down a bit.”
A chill instantly ran down my spine.
“Okay,” I said slowly, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice. “What about him?”
“I was in my bedroom, looking out the window, but just through the crack in the drapes, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“So I don’t think he saw me.”
“What are you saying? Is he looking at the house?”
“That’s the thing. I’m not sure. But he’s kind of looking this way.”
I turned on the car. “Hang on,” I said. “The Bluetooth thing is kicking in. Okay, you’re on speaker.”
“Can you hear me?” Grace said.
“Yeah,” I said, setting the cell phone down on the seat next to me and pulling the seat belt across my body. I put the car in drive and hit the gas.
“You there?” Grace asked.
“I’m on my way,” I said. “Five minutes tops.”
“Like I said, it might be nothing. I’m just kind of on edge, you know? Especially after what you said. About my being a witness and all.”
“I didn’t mean to freak you out, sweetheart.”
“I know, but you were right. I might have seen something I don’t even realize I saw? You know? Or heard something?”
“Describe the car.”
“It’s just a car,” she said. “Dark blue.”
“What about the driver? Is there anyone else in the car?”
“Just the one guy. He’s just a regular guy.”
God. What was wrong with kids’ observational skills?
“White guy? Black?”
“White,” she said.
“Does he look older or younger than me?”
“About the same? It’s kind of hard to tell because he’s so far — Hang on.”
“What?”
“He’s getting out of the car, Dad.”
“What’s he doing?”
“He’s kind of looking around. Looking both ways on the street.”
I felt my heart starting to pick up speed along with the car. “Now that you can see him, how tall? My height?”
“Taller. And he’s got kind of browny gray hair, and he’s wearing sunglasses and he’s wearing jeans and a white shirt and a jacket. Like, a sport jacket. It’s kind of black.”
“Okay, that’s good,” I said. “You recognize him? You ever seen him before?”
“No, I’ve never — He’s crossing the street.”
“Where are you, Grace?”
“I’m in my room. I’m watching him from up here.”
“Is the front door locked?”
“Yeah. I locked it when you left. Like you said. And I turned the alarm on, too, so if he kicks the door in, it’s going to go whoop-whoop.”
I didn’t want that image in my head.
“Okay,” I said. “That’s good, that’s good. It’s probably nothing, okay? Probably nothing at all. I’m probably only four minutes away.”
I was coming up to a stop sign. I slowed, glanced both ways, and blew through it. Coming the other way, a school bus. And standing in a cluster on the sidewalk, on my side, a bunch of schoolkids.
“Shit shit shit,” I said, easing my foot down on the gas a little harder.
“What is it?” Grace said.
“Nothing,” I said. “Don’t worry about me. What’s he doing now?”
“He’s standing in front of our house. He’s looking at the house!”
“Okay, okay, just calm down. You’re going to be okay. The house is locked. I want you to double-check that you turned on the alarm.”
“Dad, I know—”
“Do it!”
I could hear her thumping down the stairs as she took the phone with her.
“The red light is on!” she said.
“Okay, that’s — Shit!”
I slammed on the brakes. The school bus had stopped, engaged its flashing red lights, and half a dozen kids were crossing the street in front of me. The car came to a screeching halt.
“Dad! Dad?”
“I’m okay, honey,” I said, although my heart was pounding like it was trying to break free. I glanced up at the school bus driver, a woman, who was giving me a dirty, reproachful look. The last of the students passed by the front of my car and boarded the bus. A second later, the red lights stopped flashing and I tromped down on the accelerator once again.
“Grace?”
“Yeah?”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m near the front door.”
“Can you see him?”
“No, I’m going to peek out the living room window... No, he’s not standing across the street anymore. He must have—”
In the background, I heard our doorbell.
“Dad!” she whispered.
“Grace?”
“He’s ringing the doorbell. He’s at the door!”
“It’s okay, honey. Don’t answer it. Just stay away from the door. When no one comes, he’ll go away. When he does, maybe you can get a closer look at the car. Maybe even get a license plate—”
“He’s knocking now,” she whispered. “He tried the doorbell and now he’s knocking.”
I raced through another stop sign, leaving honking horns in my wake.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m three minutes away. What’s happening now?”
“He stopped knocking,” she said, her voice sounding slightly less hysterical. “He’s not ringing the doorbell or knocking or anything.”
“That’s good, that’s good. He’s given up. So run back up to your room and see if you—”
“Hang on,” Grace said. “I’m hearing something.”
“What? What are you hearing?”
“It sounds like... Dad, it sounds like he’s putting a key in the door.”
“That’s not possible, honey. There’s no way—”
“It’s turning,” she said.
“What’s turning?” I asked, holding my breath as I pulled into oncoming traffic to pass a slow-moving van.
“The dead bolt thingy,” Grace said. “It’s turning.”
Thirty-five
Vince Fleming held back in the bathroom of Eldon Koch’s apartment for a full minute after Terry Archer had left and closed the door. He didn’t want to take a chance that asshole would change his mind and come charging back in.
Maybe he should have shot him, too.
Damn you, Eldon.
Vince told himself it was Eldon who’d forced the play. He’d made it damn clear he wasn’t going along with Vince’s plan. And if Eldon wasn’t going to help cover up what had happened to Stuart, well, it was like they said. If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.
And covering up the circumstances of Stuart’s death, steering the police away from anything to do with Vince and his operation, was a big problem.
If Eldon wouldn’t play his role in a story that would place Stuart all over the country for several weeks, if not months, into the future, then what, exactly, was he planning to do? Go to the police? Work some kind of deal in return for testifying against his boss? He just might have, especially since he seemed to believe Vince was responsible for Stuart’s death.