“My sister is in trouble.”
Tracey’s voice cuts into my head, pul ing me back from my irritation with Culebra and into the present. “Your sister?”
Tracey releases a breath. “She filed a restraining order against her ex. So far, he’s evaded being served. I told her I’d do it. I need backup.”
Coming from Tracey, this is surprising. She’s an ex-cop who got hurt single-handedly taking down an armed bank robber. She didn’t get shot. She got hurt tackling the guy who outweighed her by a good hundred pounds. Saved a room ful of hostages but the back injury developed into spinal nerve injury and she was forced to retire from the force.
Hardly bothers her now. And I’ve seen her in action. That she thinks she needs backup to serve papers must mean this guy is one mean son of a bitch.
She’s watching me and from the look on her face, reads my expression as clearly as if I’d spoken it aloud.
“He is,” she says. “He’s been in jail three times for spousal abuse and always gets away with a slap on the wrist. He’s got money and a good lawyer on his side. My sister has me. I want to get this son of a bitch out of her life. If he violates a restraining order, it won’t be so easy for him to beat the rap.
But he has to be served first.”
“Do you know where to find him?”
“I do. He fol ows my sister the minute she leaves the house for work. He hangs around the parking lot outside, always in sight, then fol ows her home. He won’t let a stranger approach him, but he knows me. He’l think I’m there to warn him to stay away. Again. But this time. .” Her eyes flick away briefly, settle back on mine. “I’l make sure he takes those papers.”
I have no doubt. “So what do you need me for?”
Tracey lets a tiny smile touch the corners of her mouth.
“He’s been making threats. Tel s my sister if she doesn’t come back to him, he’l kil her. He has a weapon. He’s never showed it to me, but Miriam says she’s seen it. Something he picked up at a gun show. Miriam doesn’t know about guns, it’s evidently a rifle of some sort. But she’s scared.”
Tracey stands up, pul s the sweatshirt over her head. She has a T-shirt on underneath, and a.38 police special in a holster on her belt. “If the bastard tries anything, I want a witness.”
My kind of girl.
This is exactly the kind of diversion I need.
I unlock a dk drawer and pul out my own.38.
“So, when do we leave?”
CHAPTER 6
TURNS OUT TRACEY’S SISTER, MIRIAM, WORKS AS A manager in a Ralphs supermarket. It’s the anchor store in a strip mal on University in North Park, flanked on either side by smal er shops, a Vitamin Cottage, a Rite Aid. Miriam isn’t due to work for thirty minutes. Tracey spies a Starbucks on the corner. I accept her offer of coffee and she walks away to get it while I wait in the car.
I look around the parking lot. Ralphs is open twenty-four hours. It’s seven thirty in the morning and there are half dozen cars parked close to the entrance. Tracey and I checked to make sure Miriam’s ex didn’t beat her to work this morning, but his car is not among them. Neither is Miriam’s.
At seven forty-five, Miriam pul s in. I recognize her by the picture Tracey showed me. She’s early. I glance in the rearview mirror, toward the coffee shop, but don’t see Tracey. No matter. I turn my attention back to Miriam.
She resembles her sister, same hair color, same eyes and mouth. They are both thin. The difference is in their height.
Tracey is five-nine, Miriam, five-two, if that. A gazel e and a greyhound. They carry themselves the same way. With confidence. Miriam walks straight into the store, not looking right or left. She knows Tracey is coming today and she knows her ex wil be close behind, but her bearing is unflinching.
I watch the entrance to the parking lot. No cars pul in for five minutes after Miriam’s and the one that final y does is driven by a gray-haired senior in a big SUV who heads for a handicapped space by the door.
I see Tracey now, starting toward me from the coffee shop.
At the same time, the unmistakable crack of a rifle echoes across the parking lot.
It’s muffled.
It came from inside the store.
I jump out of the car and run toward the store entrance. In one motion, I’ve unbuttoned my jacket and drawn my.38
revolver. I flatten myself beside the big, glass doors and peek around to look inside.
It’s early enough that the store isn’t fil ed with midday shoppers. Stil, there’s chaos inside. The two dozen or so people I see are flinging themselves behind checkout counters, store displays, a pyramid of canned goods—
anything that can provide cover.
Then there’s only one person left standing. His back is to me. He’s dressed in a duster and black jeans. He moves to my left, out of my line of sight, but I catch a glimpse of the rifle before he disappears from sight. An AK- 47. The weapon of choice for every fucking punk these days.
Tracey is suddenly at my side. “What’s going on?” She’s pul ed her weapon, too.
I shake my head. “A robbery?”
She pul s a cel phone from her pocket.
A voice from inside. “Miriam. I know you’re here. Come out or the next time I shoot, it won’t be in the air.”
Tracey’s fingers freeze on the buttons. “Jesus. When did he get here? Weren’t you watching? Didn’t you see him drive in?”
Her voice is sharp with recrimination, but I understand. It’s her sister. I place a hand on her arm.
“He must have ready been inside. But I did see Miriam arrive. She was early.” I gesture to her Tracey’s phone.
“Make the cal.” Then, “Is there a back way in?”
Tracey nods, phone at her ear. “An office door.”
“If Miriam is in the office, try to get her out the back.”
She nods and disappears around the corner, talking to the dispatcher as she goes. I maneuver for a look inside.
Someone is approaching the shooter. A man. He’s wearing a suit and tie with a little nametag pinned over the jacket pocket. His hands are in the air and he’s talking quietly.
I can hear every word.
“Abe, you remember me. I’m Steve Robinson, Miriam’s boss. Please put the gun down. You don’t want to hurt anyone. I know it. Miriam knows it, too. But she’s scared.
She won’t come out.”
He’s talking in a calm, steady voice. He’s got guts, I’l give him that. At the same time, I know Abe is here on a mission. I could easily use vampire speed and strength to take him down, but in front of al these witnesses?
“Come on, Abe, give me the gun and it wil be over. You haven’t hurt anyone yet. We can talk it out.”
Abe is quiet and stil. It gives the manager the impression that he’s getting through to him. He takes a step closer.
“No!” The word rips out of me at the same time Abe raises the assault rifle. He fires a burst that slams the manager back against a checkout counter. I see the gaping chest wound, smel the blood as it explodes out of his back, and I know.
Miriam’s boss is dead before he hits the ground.
