a bone breaker.”
Calvin nodded, but he didn’t like it. “Sorry, go ahead.”
“Baxter’s direct confession advances the investigation in understanding the person we’re pursuing. Sanders could have done the other murders himself or used another hired hand. Willing to pay to have you killed is only one mental and psychological step away from personally committing homicide. We now know that Sanders fits the profile of the very rare and small number of people who are capable of deliberately committing murder, when the vast majority could never cross that line, even in life or death self-defense.”
“What’s his next move?”
The detective smiled. “Once Sanders discovers his hit man has failed, he’ll worry about what Baxter might say to us. And then what you might say to us. So he has to act fast. But with Sanders’ range of contacts, we have to factor in the possibility that he’s already learned about Baxter’s arrest. That should shake him even more.”
“If he knows that, then in all likelihood he knows I’m in custody too,” Calvin said.
“That’s what we’re thinking.”
Jimmy cut in. “He’s got to be sweating. We’re not sure he won’t try to get you even while you’re in the hospital. At this point, we’re not sure what Sanders is capable of.”
Calvin added. “I have direct confirmation from Shawn Grant that Sanders and Linda Grant were having an affair. He’ll want to squelch that.”
“But will they pick up their affair? We’re still not allowed to touch Sanders and the order is stronger than ever,” Jimmy said.
They continued walking, this time in silence. Each detective cradled an arm to help Calvin move with less discomfort.
They were almost back at Calvin’s room when Dale said, “Our only hope is that Sanders’ rush to action will force him to make a mistake. We’re still not allowed to touch Sanders, but I have an idea.” Dale looked Calvin in the eye. “Do you think you feel ready to leave?”
He didn’t need to think about it. “Hell, yeah.”
“We’ll talk with the doctor and make sure it’s okay.”
They entered the room and Jimmy said. “I’ll go see the doc. If we get the green light, I’ll sign the release forms.”
Calvin saw his blood-stained shirt hanging from the back of a chair. A new, clean one was folded and piled on a pair of pants on the seat.
“Rachel picked them out,” Dale said.
The nurse came in to change Calvin’s bandages. With his arm in a sling, all movement was awkward, so Dale had to help him get his shirt over his head and pulled down.
Calvin said, “I want to stay on this case.”
“What do you mean?”
“Since the ‘Baxter’ problem has been eliminated, I assumed I would be expendable.”
“Calvin, you’ve already been an essential part of this case. You’re the reason we have Baxter and we have confirmation that Sanders is behind these murders. I realize your vested interest in this case.”
Calvin just smiled.
Jimmy returned with the forms. “Everything is taken care of.” He handed Calvin a piece of paper. “This is your prescription. They said they also added Tylenol 3, a brief, self-limited course of Tylenol and codeine. We’re good to go.”
“Good, because I know exactly what we’re going to do,” Dale said.
Chapter 40
Ace sat at his desk, staring down at the hand he had dealt himself. He surveyed the other three hands and then turned back to his own, the five cards that lay in front of him, face up.
He poured a generous portion of Evan Williams twenty-three-year-old bourbon and drank it in one swallow. Then he poured himself another.
He knew what it meant. Two pairs, black aces and black eights—the dead man’s hand.
His pulse quickened and his breathing slowed. A twitching vein behind his ear pulsated. A deep-seated fear crept into his soul.
Legend had it that on August 2, 1876, in Saloon Number Ten at Deadwood, South Dakota, Wild Bill Hickok had this exact same hand when he was gunned down—murdered in cold blood. Although there were no confirmed accounts of what Hickok’s fifth card was, Ace dreaded the hand. It was cursed.
Four days ago everything had been under control. After hiring Scott, Ace thought the Watters situation was handled. But as one attempt after another failed, he was only exposed to more risk.
From his informant on the Las Vegas police, he learned early this morning that Scott had been arrested. The cops would be questioning him and that made Ace sweat.
He had spent the day pondering his next move, making sure that the time was right. He had no choice now. With the dark of night, he decided to make his move.
The situation couldn’t be worse. Watters was still alive and his hit man was in police custody. Now Ace had to clean up this mess too. He was working hard to get another top hit man to Vegas but that would take time he didn’t have.
Even though he never used his name, paid with cash transfers and had left no paper trail, he knew that someone as experienced as Scott would find it out anyway. The assassin was supposed to be the best and had come from a reliable source. That’s why Ace agreed to pay part of his outrageous fee upfront.
He picked up his secure line.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. I need to see you now.”
“Okay,” the voice answered back.
“Are the cops still outside your house?”
There was a momentary silence. Then the caller came back on the line. “Yes.”
“Okay. Don’t say a word. Just listen.”
He made his plan very clear, going into fine detail. He wasn’t sure the line was truly secure, so he had to make the conversation as unrevealing as possible.
“Don’t be late.”
He hung up and stared at the cards on the desk. He swallowed, closed his eyes, shook his head and got up.
He left his office lights on and turned up the stereo. He radioed down and told his pit and slot managers that he had serious work to take care of and didn’t want to be interrupted for the remainder of the night. He then slipped out the back way of his office and snuck down the back stairs to the employee staff room.
The minute he walked in, the three employees who had been taking their break jumped up from the table and walked out without making eye contact.
Once they were gone, he lifted a set of keys from an employee’s jacket and left the casino through a back entrance, avoiding the cameras.
He marched through the back alley, putting on strong skin-colored surgical gloves. His fingerprints would never be found in the car he’d be driving…or later.
Standing in the employee parking lot, he pushed the disarm button on the key chain until he saw a car in the far corner of the lot light up. After securing the lot, he climbed behind the wheel and sped away. He wasn’t worried, just being careful as always. Ace knew his call to the mayor had abolished any ideas the cops might have about following him.
He gripped the steering wheel. It maddened him all over again that Watters was still a problem when he should have been dead days ago.
Having already sold her share of her late husband’s casino to Ace, Linda just had to wait a few more days while the bank’s substantial check cleared and was deposited into her account.
