Firearms werenot her forte. But finding criminals was. She circled the stairs with leapingstrides, watching as Jason raced toward the street.
Adele lost sightof him as she cleared the staircase and also moved toward the street. But aftera few strides, she pulled up short and hesitated, gasping, next to the browningshrubbery circling the blue water.
Would Jasonreally use the busy street? People would see him. This part of the city waspatrolled rather heavily. Jason would know this. Her mind flipped back to theflash of metal she’d spotted in his hand. A knife? No. A weapon? Too small.
Keys. They hadto be.
Her eyes flittedbriefly back toward the walkway above. Keys to the motel? No. They’d used akeycard. She turned away from the street, her eyes scanning the length of thesecond wing of the motel around which the suspect had disappeared. Would hedouble back?
Car keys—theyhad to be, right? Jason’s truck was in the motel’s parking lot; they’d seen iton their way in.
Adele nodded toherself and then, instead of heading for the gap between the buildings whichled to the street, she turned and sprinted in the opposite direction. The motel’sparking lot was situated behind the buildings, hedged up against a large woodenfence, and bordered on all four corners by new red dumpsters with black lids.
A hunch. Butsometimes a hunch was all an agent had to go on.
Adele could hearsirens in the distance, but they were still faint. She was on her own. Sheglanced back over her shoulder toward the stairs, noticing her partner slowlymoving down, a dazed look still on his face as he shook his head. He staggereda bit, blood still streaming from his nose.
Adele exhaled aresigned sigh as she hotfooted in the direction of the parking lot. She hoppedanother small hedge, grateful for all the time she spent jogging in themornings. She hurried along the side of the registration office, and thensidled past a chain-link fence and a red dumpster positioned at the back of theoffices. The odor of two-week-old garbage wafted on the air and clung to herclothing. She ignored the smell and grunted as a jutting section of fencesnagged her suit; a quiet rip, a flash of pain. But she pushed through,ignoring the tear through her outfit.
Adele slidbetween the chain-link fence and the odoriferous dumpster before pulling upshort and staring at the large black truck with jutting mirrors. The vehicleparked halfway between two spots behind a minivan.
The front doorto the truck hung open.
Jason wasalready scrambling into the driver’s seat. He shot a look in her direction,then cursed loudly before slamming the front door and jamming his keys in theignition. She heard a muffled rattling sound, and a string of oaths in Spanish.
She raised herweapon, pointing it at the window. “Stop or I’ll shoot!” she yelled.
But Mr.Hernandez ignored her. He continued fumbling with the keys. Finally, at last,the engine revved. Jason stared out the window, his eyes wide in panic. Thetwisting tattoo of the two snakes seemed to pulse against his skin, and veinsprotruded from his temples.
He mutteredsomething she couldn’t hear through the glass, then shifted into gear. Heslammed the gas. There was a squeal of tires, and the truck darted forward, nearlycolliding with the office building. Jason cursed inaudibly and readjusted hisgear shift before glancing over his shoulder and preparing to reverse.
Unlike themotel, Jason’s truck was in immaculate condition. The windows were clean, andthe truck itself didn’t carry a single chip or dent. Some of the eyewitnesseswho’d seen Hernandez follow his supposed victims home had claimed it allstarted when Mr. Carter nearly rear-ended Jason’s truck.
Adele kept herweapon trained and braced herself, shoulders set, feet apart. “Stop, FBI!” sheshouted.
“Agent Sharp!” avoice called over her shoulder. For the briefest moment, she flinched andglanced back.
Masse wasstumbling through the building nearest Jason—clearly he’d run around thestreet, going the long way. But now, this meant he was closer to the truck thanshe was. Masse spotted Jason; the young agent’s eyes widened, and he raised hisweapon.
“Wait!” Adelesnapped.
But Masseunloaded three rounds. Two struck the hood of the truck; the third shatteredboth windows, piercing clean through one and out the other. None of them hitJason Hernandez.
But, through thenow scattered glass of the truck’s window frame, Adele had a good long look atJason’s expression.
He was no longerfiddling with the wheel or the ignition. He stared through the shattered glass,his eyes wide as if haunted, his features pale now. He stared at the smashedpieces of glass, and then his eyeline traced the hood of his car toward the twosmoking bullet holes in the front of his beloved vehicle.
“Puta!”he screeched. Hernandez scrambled across the seat and flung open the passengerdoor before stumbling out. He was now on the opposite side of the vehicle fromAdele, but closer to Masse.
Adele tried tohold her posture, but growled in frustration; she’d lost line of sight. Shemoved quickly, still with controlled motions, trying to keep the two quantitieswithin field of vision as she hastily circled the parking lot.
Jason startedtoward Agent Masse, ignoring the gun waving in his face and Adele skirtingaround from behind. As she repositioned, Adele glimpsed his expression: Jason’seyes were dilated, blood vessels throbbing in his neck and forehead.
“Cavron!”he screeched, glancing from his ruined truck to the FBI agent who’d shot it. Heseemed entirely indifferent, or perhaps unaware, regarding the weapon in Masse’sstill trembling hands.
Adele’s earliercry of “Wait!” only now seemed to register with Masse. Histrigger finger was still white against the mechanism, but he seemed frozen. Hewaited, hesitating, glancing between Adele and the approaching form ofHernandez. He hesitated for a second too long.
“No—don’t!”Adele shouted, but too late.
Jason surgedforward, ducking Masse’s line of fire, and tackled the young agent around thewaist, sending both of them clattering to the sidewalk.
Adele rushedforward, looking for an opening, her weapon raised. The cold concrete of theparking lot and the safety barrier provided a harsh surface against which Masse’sshoulder blades slammed once, twice as he tried to rise. But Jason snarled,punching and scratching the agent’s
