The bumper-lock surveillance was all they could do for now.
“Keep a safe distance, Jimmy.” Dale spoke into the radio. “Stand down, everyone and stay back. Follow my lead.”
“Whose car?” Linda asked.
“A friend’s,” Ace replied, checking his rearview mirror before pulling out.
“Kind of paranoid, having my driver pick me up two blocks from my house.”
Ace ignored her remark. “Your hit man failed.” He sneered. “Where did you find him anyway?”
Linda smiled. “I’m not just another pretty face. I have my connections too.”
She winked, reached over the middle compartment and slipped her hand in his lap. She fumbled for his zipper and pulled it down.
“Are you drunk?”
“I had a couple of cocktails with dinner.” She slid her hand inside his pants.
“Not yet.” He pulled it out.
Linda pouted and folded her arms across her chest.
He had to keep his mind clear. Some overzealous officer might pull him over for something as minor as a broken taillight. He kept discreetly checking for a tail in a way that wouldn’t make Linda suspicious of his actions.
“Where are we going?” Linda asked.
“It’s a surprise. Just sit back and relax. We’ll be there soon.”
“What’s with you tonight? And what’s with the gloves?”
Ace noted the iciness in her voice. He didn’t reply. They were nearing the spot and he tightened his grip on the wheel. His breath quickened and his heartbeat amplified. The irony was almost too much.
He felt a charge go up the back of his neck.
When the Toyota pulled over and stopped in a hidden rest area, so did Jimmy. “So what’s our next move? We can’t see or hear inside that car.”
“I’m not sure. Fuck! I was hoping Sanders would take her to a motel, where we could set up some sort of surveillance. We’re blind and deaf out here. Does this place look familiar?” Dale asked.
Jimmy’s eyes grew wide. “Holy shit!”
“Exactly. He’s going to do Linda where he offed Grant.”
“We need to stop this.”
Dale picked up the radio. “Everyone stand down.” Each unit was parked a good distance from the suspect’s car and couldn’t be seen.
A dark cloud floated away, clearing the sky for a full moon. He started to tense.
“Should we move in?”
“And do what, Jimmy? How do we explain it? We’re not supposed to be anywhere near Sanders. We don’t have anything yet.”
The passenger door of the Toyota opened and Linda stepped out. Then the driver’s door inched its way open and a man followed.
Even the full moon wasn’t enough to identify him. The man walked around the front of the car to the passenger’s side of the vehicle and positioned himself behind Linda, always staying hidden.
All they could do was wait.
The unidentified man slipped his left arm around Linda’s waist, little by little working its way under her breasts as he buried his face in her hair. They remained in that position for seconds, swaying their hips together in gentle, sexual rhythm—small circular motion. Linda’s facial expression was one of orgasmic pleasure.
“Guess we’re in for a show,” Jimmy announced, leaning back in his seat.
But something wasn’t right. At first glance, Linda seemed to enjoy it, but to Dale, it looked like she then clawed at the arm in panic, trying to tear from its grip. She was fighting to breathe. “That’s not consensual. Everyone move in!”
Dale thought of Grant and Pitt and was the first one out of the car, gun pointed, sprinting toward Linda. But even Dale’s quickness and the blinding headlight rays could not stop the killer, who was already in full motion.
Dale saw the glint of the blade before it sliced Linda’s throat with the viciousness seen in a snuff film. Blood gushed from the wound as Linda’s hands grasped for it, the blood spewing between her fingers. Her listless body flopped to the ground.
Sanders stood over Linda, blood dripping from the knife, a sly grin on his face.
Everyone had their weapons drawn. It all happened so fast that it took a few moments for Dale and his team to fully realize what they’d just seen.
Sanders shielded his eyes from the lights with one hand. The other one hung at his side, clutching the bloody murder weapon. Linda’s blood spatter had splashed on his clothes and skin. He turned to run, but the squad cars boxed him in.
The bloody knife flew from Sanders’ hand and soared deep into the woods. But it didn’t matter.
Chapter 42
Almost midnight, the precinct was full of cops who came in just to watch Sanders get processed. When word had gotten out, many off-duty officers had left their homes, bars, or wherever they happened to be and returned to the station to watch Sanders, issuing dire threats all the way, as he was guided into the police station.
Earlier, as soon as Sanders had released the knife, four cops, flashlights drawn, had raced into the woods after it. Now Jimmy carried it into the station, sealed in a plastic evidence bag.
The sergeant came out of the office, a large smile, apparent relief, on his face. “Great job, you guys. The lieutenant’s on his way.”
Dale didn’t smile. He was glad he caught Sanders—that’s all. Jimmy and Calvin seemed happy too, but not as if they were happy for the Vegas police.
After the long and exhausting frustration of leading double murder investigations that were the most important in the homicide history of Las Vegas and with pressure from the mayor on down and absolutely no hard evidence until tonight, Dale felt it all come to a climax.
But that was short lived.
Linda had gotten killed because his bosses protected Sanders—no other reason. Dale’s one regret was that they couldn’t have arrested Sanders sooner, which could have prevented her death.
What stopped him? Not only the perfect murders, which were part of the nature of his work, but in this context, most importantly—the interference by the mayor and sergeant, for political reasons. That was the real tragedy. Politics had kept the real murderer free until he could kill his fourth victim.
Politics should never have been part of Dale’s investigations, but they were, and that was what he really lamented.
He would never know really if Linda had helped Sanders kill Grant because the only person alive connected to it all was Sanders himself. Even if he admitted that Linda was behind it, would it be the truth or just some last-ditch effort to save himself from the chair? Did she deserve to die?
With Watters following them, Dale and Jimmy took Sanders to the booking counter and transferred custody to two officers. They watched until Sanders disappeared from view down the hallway toward the holding cells.
“He better get used to those living arrangements.”
Dale turned to find the mayor and District Attorney Robert Flannery standing behind them, wide smiles on their faces.
“We came as soon as we heard,” the mayor said. “Good work.”
Flannery spoke. “We have enough on Sanders. His band of lawyers and every legal technique in the book can’t save him now. Assuming he pleads down, we’ll put him away for two consecutive life sentences, without parole. Sanders will never see the outside of a prison again.”
“Not in this lifetime.” The mayor smiled again. “Let’s go, Robert. We have a press conference tomorrow to plan for.”
