But she had been promised more than just money. Even if she couldn’t trust her lover, she was going to give it a brief try. She had been promised love too. Even if he had experienced a change of heart, Linda had enough money to escape Vegas by herself and start over in another part of the world.
She took the stairs, stumbling, to the mansion’s wine cellar to return an empty bottle and choose another. She had also been told to use the wine cellar to make all of her “private” calls.
She shut the door and used the phone he’d given her, dialing the familiar number.
“What is it?”
Just the sound of his voice gave her chills. “Ace just called. He wants to meet me.”
“Good, that means he’s worried.”
“I don’t think I should go. You know Ace, he’s capable of anything.”
“Linda, you have to go. This is the plan we’ve been working on. We’re so close, baby. It’s almost over and then we can be together forever.”
“Are you sure?”
“Linda, listen to me. This is it. You need to go meet Ace. This is important to me…to us. Keep him happy. Give him what he wants.”
She smiled. “I’ll be thinking of you like always. I miss you.”
“I miss you too. But we can’t be seen together. Soon.”
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
“That’s my girl.”
Chapter 41
“Well, that was a fuckin’ waste of time!” Watters jammed himself into the narrow booth, looking more than a little uncomfortable.
It was late on a Sunday night and they were at a small diner, having just concluded their six-hour shift staking out Linda Grant.
“I agree,” Jimmy said
Although Linda had been quiet, Dale didn’t feel the new 24/7 schedule on Linda was a total waste. “Sure, nothing happened today. Linda won’t yell to the world that she was a part of a master plan to kill her husband. But the night’s not over yet.”
“Do you really think, with the buzz she put on at dinner, she’ll be leaving the house again tonight?”
Dale shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I’d like to see Rachel soon,” Watters said.
“We can make that happen. We can—” Dale was cut off by the vibration from his cell phone, which had a familiar caller ID. “It’s the department.” He flipped open the phone. “Dayton.”
“Detective, it’s Mitch. Linda Grant just received a phone call.”
“From who?”
“Unknown.”
“What do you mean unknown?”
“The caller used a voice distorter and scrambler, untraceable.”
Dale remembered the 911 call on Wednesday with the same security measures. Whoever set up Watters was calling Linda.
“Thanks, Mitch.”
He hung up and made another call. “Charlie, it’s Dale. Anything?”
“No. The limo dropped her off a while ago and left. Lights are off. Guess she went to bed.”
“No—check that she’s really at home. She just got a scrambled call.”
“What?”
“Get in there! And keep your cell phone on so I can track what’s going on.”
Through the phone he could hear movement and a car door slam. He heard the faint sound of heavy panting and a knock on a door.
The cop came back on the line. “No answer, Dale.”
“Break it down!”
“Don’t I need ‘probable cause’ to go in?”
“The suspicious call is enough.”
He heard them crash through the door and running up stairs, then, “Shit.”
He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He called the department. “Mitch, it’s me again. We lost Linda. Please tell me the GPS is operational?”
He could hear computer keys clicking over the phone.
“It was confirmed that the limo had been parked for the night, but the GPS is indicating that it’s moving again.”
Dale hung up. “Linda’s on the move.”
They threw some cash on the table and sprinted from the diner. Dale jumped in the passenger side. “You drive.”
With Watters in the back, Jimmy peeled out of the parking lot while Dale stayed on the line with Mitch, who was relaying Linda’s coordinates.
“We’re getting closer.”
“Call for back up,” Jimmy said.
With the cell phone still pressed to his ear, Dale grabbed the car radio and had dispatch locate four cars to join the tail. He gave them the exact location and made sure they followed his direct orders.
“She’s stopped, Jimmy.” Dale gave the coordinates. “Pull over here.”
Jimmy slowed the car and killed the lights. “There’s Duncan and Smith.”
Dale saw two undercover cars parked on a side street. In the rearview mirror, he saw two more cars pull up. “Everyone’s in position.”
Linda’s limo was parked beside a pump of a deserted roadside gas station. The lights were off inside the building and the only light came from the low-watt bulb of the corner streetlight.
“What’s she doing out here?” Watters asked.
“I don’t know. But I see a set of headlights.”
They watched as an unfamiliar car pulled up beside the limo.
Dale picked up the car radio. “Nancy, I need a plate check.”
“Go ahead.”
“Nevada tags—zero, nine, six, four, apple, brandy.”
He continued to watch the scene as the dispatch operator located the information.
“The car is registered to a Mr. Gene Lockhart.”
“He’s a pit boss at the Golden Horseshoe,” Watters interrupted.
Dale eyed Watters in the rearview mirror. “You know him?”
Watters nodded. “He’s not a killer, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Sanders might have asked him to pick up Linda,” Jimmy said.
Dale shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“What are you thinking?” Jimmy asked.
“I hadn’t expected Sanders to do anything in his Ferrari, known all over Vegas. Linda wouldn’t meet a total stranger in a deserted area at night.”
“You think that it’s Sanders?”
Dale didn’t respond.
The limo door opened and Linda stepped out. She approached the idling 2004 Toyota Corolla, opened the door and climbed inside.
When the passenger door opened, the interior light didn’t go on, but Dale didn’t need confirmation. “She’s going with Sanders. Let’s move,” he said into the two-way radio.
