“Okay.” The clerk set a box next to the gun. “That it?”
Rob nodded.
“You got your permit with you?” the clerk said.
Rob looked at him in confusion. “What permit?”
“In this state you have to apply for a permit before you can purchase a firearm.” He pulled the pistol and ammunition off the counter. “I take it you don’t have one.”
“No, I … didn’t know I needed one.”
“Happens all the time. But hey, you can come back after you get it. I’ll even give you the same sale price. Here, I’ve got the application if you want to fill one out. Usually only takes a few weeks to get the permit.”
He slid a paper form in front of Rob along with a pen.
“But I haven’t got time to—”
“Unless you’re under indictment,” the clerk said in a joking tone, “or have a warrant out for your arrest, that sort of thing. But I’m guessing that doesn’t apply to you.”
Rob’s face flushed with realization. He wasn’t used to thinking of himself as a criminal.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Landry finished relieving himself, then emptied the wide-mouthed bottle out the door of the Taurus and screwed the top back on. Pulling out a bottle of water, he held his hands out the door and poured some over them. It was the best he could do for sanitation under the circumstances.
The makeshift toilet facility and the supply of food and water he had packed into the car made it possible for him to watch Rob’s apartment building for days if need be. The two major obstacles were boredom and the need for sleep. Landry had plenty of practice dealing with both.
He shifted in the seat to relieve the discomfort of the holster in the small of his back. The spare gun that normally resided in the holster lay on the seat beside his regular nine-mil, but the empty holster was still a minor annoyance.
His cell phone warbled.
“Yeah?” he said.
“It’s me. She’s on the move.”
Landry had assigned Doug Gourley to watch Kirsten Glanville’s apartment.
“She driving?” Landry said.
“Walking. You want me to follow her or keep watching her place?”
“Either way’s a gamble. Donovan could show up while you’re trailing her. Or she could be going to meet him.”
“That’s why I called you.”
“Follow her,” Landry said, “and call me when you know where she’s going.”
“I’ll have to hoof it,” Gourley said. “She’s moving too slowly to crawl along behind her in a car. She’d be bound to notice.”
“Your call. Just don’t blow it like that idiot you had watching Whitlock’s place.”
“Not a chance. I’ll get back to you.”
Landry tossed the phone on the passenger seat. No use getting too excited about it. The girl was probably on her way to some corner store for a loaf of bread. He settled back into boredom management mode.
Rob pulled out of the Sunoco station at the agreed-upon time and started driving west on Beacon Street. He kept it just below the speed limit, a leisurely pace so he could look around but not so slow as to attract attention. Before long he spotted Kirsten up ahead, walking away from him.
There were several other pedestrians going in both directions on each side of the street. None of them seemed to be paying any particular attention to Kirsten, at least not that Rob could tell. He cruised by her and continued a few blocks further, where he turned and started eastward for another drive-by. Nobody seemed to be following Kirsten, so a block further on he turned around again, then pulled up to the curb beside her. She hopped in the car and Rob sped back into traffic immediately.
“I didn’t see anybody,” he said.
Rob could see the strain around Kirsten’s eyes.
“Me either,” she said.
“Did you find it?”
Kirsten opened her handbag and pulled out a short-barreled revolver. “It was right where I thought it would be, at the back of my closet. I had almost forgotten it was there.”
Rob raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That’s a hard thing to forget.”
“I only have it because of my Dad,” she said. “He insisted on giving it to me when I moved to the big city.”
“I’m glad he did,” Rob said without taking his eyes off the road. “Is it loaded?”
“No, but I brought the bullets.”
She set the pistol on the floor mat, then took a small box from her purse and showed it to him.
“That’s good,” he said.
They drove in silence for a time. Rob tried not to think of what might be waiting for him at his apartment. The afternoon sun streamed in the Saturn’s windows as they wound their way along Commonwealth Avenue. The warmth did nothing to lift his spirits.
“I’m going to drop myself off a couple of blocks from my place,” he said. “I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“Why?”
“So I can sneak in the back way, in case there’s someone waiting for me.”
The worry lines deepened between Kirsten’s eyes. “If you say so,” she said.
Rob pulled the car over to the side of the street.
“This’ll do,” he said. He picked up the revolver. After loading it, he stuck the gun in the waistband of his pants and let his sweatshirt hide the stock. The box with the remaining bullets went in his pants pocket.
He took a deep breath and looked at Kirsten.
“Thanks for everything,” he said.
She pressed her lips together and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
“Be careful,” she said.
Landry tapped the steering wheel with one index finger as he listened to his cell phone.
“I was too far away to see who was in the car,” Gourley said, “or to get a license number for that matter.”
“Damn,” Landry said. “I bet it was him.”
“You want me to go back and keep an eye on her place?”
“Might as well. All we can do is watch and—”
Rob appeared beside the Pathfinder so suddenly that it took Landry a second to react. Landry dropped the cell phone and reached for the door handle. Then he realized he wouldn’t have time to run to Rob, who was already inside his car. Instead Landry cranked the Taurus to life, yanked it into gear and zipped out to try to block Rob’s car from moving.
Rob’s heart hammered a staccato rhythm on the inside of his ribs as he tried to jam the key in the Pathfinder’s door lock. His hand shook so badly that it took him two attempts. Once inside he placed the gun on the seat beside him and started the engine. As he put it in drive, however, a white car flashed in front of his own. The figure inside had a black goatee, but Rob still recognized Landry’s face.
A jolt of adrenaline blasted through Rob. Without thinking he grabbed the revolver, shouldered open his door and started spraying bullets in the general direction of the white car. Landry’s head dropped out of sight behind a windshield that turned into a spider web of smashed glass. The reports from the shots were unbelievably loud to Rob, who stood half in and half out of the Pathfinder. He had no idea what he was hitting, if anything. He just kept pulling the trigger.
Rob realized the gun was empty after two fruitless clicks. He dropped back into his seat, slammed the door shut and floored the accelerator. The Pathfinder rammed the front fender of the Taurus with a sickening crunch. The smaller car rocked to one side and Rob was able to escape from the parking spot. He let up on the gas long enough to swerve in the direction of the driveway, then stepped on it again and shot out onto the street.
Landry had his nine millimeter out by the time the shooting stopped. The windshield of the Taurus was impossible to see through, so Landry started to get out. Just then the Taurus gave a violent lurch to the left, pitching Landry back into the car and jamming his shin as the door slammed into it. His right hand whacked the steering wheel but he was able to hold onto the gun. He pushed the door open again and stepped out in time to see Rob’s Nissan fishtail out of the driveway. There was no chance to squeeze off a shot before Rob disappeared down the street. Besides, Landry didn’t want to shoot him. He needed to talk to him.