But the kids helped him. The tall waiter, who looked as if he lifted weights more hours a day than he slept, squeezed in next to the booth. Stallings had noticed Lauren stare at the handsome young man’s smile, and he flashed it again.
He looked across at Helen and Maria and said, “Could I bring the ladies a couple of strawberry margaritas? They’re two for one.”
Helen shook her head and said, “No, thank you.”
“C’mon, they’re pretty good.”
Helen shook her head again as Maria stared straight ahead, chanting some silent mantra.
“What if I bring out a little sample?”
Stallings tapped the man’s arm, then motioned him to lean down. He whispered, “If you bring out a sampler I’ll break that pretty nose of yours. She said no twice.” He smiled and winked to disguise the threat from the kids. The waiter scrambled back to the kitchen on some unknown quest.
Stallings looked up as the kids resumed their game console debate and Helen stared at him with a look of horror. She knew him too well.
All he could do was shrug. Maybe Patty was right; he was a little on the aggressive side. He’d work on reining it in.
His phone rang and his first impulse was to just ignore it. Everyone in the world that he wanted to talk to was with him right now. That thought comforted and calmed him down. But the years of being tied to the phone forced him to at least look down to see who was calling. No number showed on the screen. Someone was calling from a blocked phone. He wanted to just shut it but he had to flip the phone open and see who it was.
The restaurant’s thick roof and heavy walls blocked most of the signal.
“John Stallings,” he answered in a professional tone. All he got was static with little bits of a man’s voice.
“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.”
More static and maybe someone calling out a name.
Stallings listened intently, blocking out the kids, terrified waiter, sullen wife, and spooky sister. Then he thought someone said “Ernie,” but he wasn’t sure as the line went dead.
He’d worry about it tomorrow when he tried to restart his life with his family and see if he really could walk away from the Bag Man.
William Dremmel still felt alert even after all this time without sleep. He cut out of work an hour early, but that had nothing to do with exhaustion. Now, as he slowly circled the neighborhood where Detective Patty Levine lived, looking for surveillance or security cameras, a parked police cruiser, or just an abnormal number of people on the street, he felt the excitement shoot through him. He’d had an erection since six o’clock thinking about the cute detective, but he guessed she had that effect on every man.
This was one of the few times he had no real plan and intended to make it up as opportunities presented themselves. He didn’t have enough of her schedule to intercept her on the way to an appointment. But here, where she might be off guard, he thought he had a chance at surprise. He looked down at his container of homemade chloroform. That would do the trick if he could just get close enough.
Her condo was set off the road. Four stories high with three units on each floor. She had the bottom corner, which, with all the extra windows, he figured to be one of the nicer units. Her parking space was next to the walkway that led to her front door. A Jeep Wrangler, parked an aisle back, was her personal vehicle. He’d found it on a Web site site listing vehicles in Florida. It was backed into the slot, like a cop would do it, and covered by a corrugated aluminum roof that ran in each direction over the second parking space for each unit.
Just as he turned the corner again to drive past her building, Dremmel saw her unmarked police SUV pull into the spot in front of the condo.
She got out, walked around, and pulled bags of groceries from the passenger side, leaving the door open for her next trip back.
Dremmel beamed at the setup. This was just perfect.
Patty Levine struggled with just under half of the grocery bags in the car, tilting her small frame back to balance the load as her house key dangled from her right hand. She knew she should’ve given Tony Mazzetti a firm time of when to show up so she wouldn’t rush like this, but she liked the thrill of just being surprised.
She’d given up trying to reach John Stallings. That was just like him, ignoring anyone who was concerned about him. In a way she was happy he had some time to see his family. She knew that tomorrow they’d have a long talk and work out whatever was going on with his supposed contact with the TV station. Tonight was about getting her own life on track.
She felt herself smiling, just thinking about the break from work and the chance to start a new romance. This was always the best time of a relationship. You had an idea where it was going, were attracted to the person, and you hadn’t spent enough time with them for their little quirks to annoy the crap out of you. She wished she could freeze a moment like this. Simple, fun, and perfect.
Patty hurried back out to her Freestyle, grabbed the remaining bags, then started her awkward tilted walk back toward her condo’s open door. It was cool enough out that she wasn’t worried about mosquitoes or other flying pests invading the condo in the thirty seconds she left the door open.
She had made it though the doorway, kicked the heavy wooden door shut with her foot, and started toward the kitchen when she thought she heard something move behind her. Before she turned to see if it was her cat Cornelia, she noticed the plump feline on her regular perch next to her TV.
Then she froze as she felt someone step up behind her. Her heart skipped a beat as she prepared for Tony Mazzetti’s muscular arms to envelop her. She didn’t move to set down the bags as she briefly saw a hand reach around from behind her, then clamp down over her mouth and nose.
Instinctively she dropped the groceries and struggled to turn and face the person behind her, but her vision faded quickly as she became light-headed and unsteady. She vaguely heard a man say, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” as everything faded to black.
Forty
John Stallings’s head pounded as soon as he opened his eyes to the rising sun peeping through the window nearest his side of the bed. Out of habit he reached over to feel Maria next to him. His hand brushed her naked thigh and a smile crept across his face not only because she was safe in bed with him but because she had the most beautiful legs he’d ever seen, and touching them was a thrill he didn’t take for granted.
He had almost thirty minutes before getting the kids up and making breakfast. It was the rare quiet moments like this that he’d avoided over the last few years. Time to think about what he had lost and how he had staggered to this place in his life. Time to reason out how to protect Lauren and Charlie from the devastation of addiction. He had considered divorce, not because he didn’t love Maria-he did-but for the sake of the kids and their sanity. Every family has hard choices to make at some point, but his seemed harder than most. Maybe his father did play a larger role in his life than he wanted to admit.
For now his quiet time was spent thinking about the Bag Man and what he could’ve done differently to stop him. This line of reflection also encompassed his transfer back to missing persons. His stomach turned at the thought of Ronald Bell. The I.A. weasel wouldn’t fabricate evidence, so that left him back where he started until it hit him all at once: his friend Rick Ellis used his phone that day, purportedly to call his captain.
Stallings now knew his first task for the day.
Tony Mazzetti blinked hard a couple of times at the harsh light hitting him in the face and waking him up. Instantly he remembered Patty and sat up straight. How long had he been dozing? He looked over at his clock and saw it wasn’t even eight yet. Plenty of time. He relaxed, surprised at how stiff he was from a ten-minute nap on the side of his bed. Then he realized what the light that had awakened him was-the sun. He grabbed the small alarm clock and looked closely. It was eight in the fucking morning. Oh shit.