and then fell forward onto her hands.
“Oh God! Can I throw up now?”
“Go for it,” Hannibal said, hopping down from the car. He sat on the grass with his back to the roof of his car and fished in his pockets for his phone. He was surprised that Rod hadn’t taken it from him, but figured he shouldn’t have been. This guy never thought things through and Hannibal was at a loss to explain how a man who never considered consequences could be so dangerous.
Gazing into the calm lake waters, Hannibal slapped at a growing cloud of flying insects and listened to Missy begin to heave. Absently he reached over to hold her long hair back while she vomited into the grass. She had only been unconscious for a few seconds but he knew this to be one common reaction to being knocked out. When she was finished he leaned her back against the white roof beside him and pushed a button on his phone.
“Police?” Missy asked.
“They’re next.” In fact, he wondered why no police cars had found them already. Their landing was noisy and the nearest homes stood no more than fifty yards away. Besides, hadn’t the driver of the little Toyota stopped to watch the crash? Surely he would have called an ambulance. Unless of course he was too drunk to think and didn’t want the authorities to know he was behind the wheel in that condition. Or, he may have been sneaking home from someone else’s wife’s bed at four-thirty in the morning. Or, maybe he and the nearby residents were just in the habit of minding their own business. In any case, he would get the local police to come by and pick them up, tell his story and point out the bullet holes in his car. With police assistance he would return to Rod’s house in daylight with Missy telling tales of rampant drug use and showing handcuff marks. Hannibal’s blood in the hall carpet, and more in the master bedroom, would hold their attention. While Rod answered questions he would retrieve the disc he left behind in the sofa.
In the meantime, they sat alone being eaten alive by the lakeside insects. But before he called for help he wanted to check in. There were people who might be worried about him.
He expected to hear a series of rings but Cindy’s voice burst through after only one. “Hannibal! Oh thank God.”
“Hey, baby…”
“Did Sarge find you?”
The question froze his planned words in his throat. He didn’t know why, but the question started a chill up his spine, and fresh perspiration painted his forehead.
“I told Sarge I didn’t need backup on this. I left him to guard Marquita.”
“Hannibal, she disappeared,” Cindy said. “Right after she made that one telephone call for you. We were all at Sarge’s place and then she was just gone.”
That was so many hours ago. So much had happened since then. Hannibal stood up, pacing with the telephone. “Where would she go? She knew she was safe with Sarge.”
“He thinks she went to see Rod in person.”
“She wouldn’t even know where to go,” Hannibal said, staring into the lake as if clarity lay there. “I only gave Rod’s address to you, for safety’s sake. Oh, Cindy. You didn’t tell her, did you?”
“Of course not,” Cindy said, indignation in her voice. “I’m not an idiot.”
“Thank God.” Hannibal breathed relief, slowing his pacing around the car.
“But Sarge thought she might already know. He took off after her.”
Relief vanished in an instant, and Hannibal felt an invisible hand squeezing his chest. “You gave the address to Sarge,” he said with grim certainty.
“I didn’t think it could hurt. He was starting to act a little crazy. If he was going to be a loose cannon it seemed best for him to be with you.” Hannibal closed his eyes and quickly did the math. Enough hours had passed. Sarge would be driving like a bat out of hell, with blood in his eyes. His search for Marquita would have quickly changed to a mad charge to get at the source of her suffering. What if Rod and Derek, both armed, returned to that house after running Hannibal off the road and found Sarge on the porch, spoiling for a fight? Hannibal had wanted to return to Rod’s house in the daytime, but waiting for daylight could mean Sarge’s life.
“Don’t worry, babe,” he said into the phone in calm, even tones. “I’ll find Sarge and bring him home safe. Got to run now.”
With his thumb Hannibal cut his connection to his support system. He panned slowly, his eyes scanning the houses across the nearest street. “So, where the hell is Rod’s house from here?” he asked himself aloud.
Behind him, Missy said, “It’s that way.”
Hannibal looked down just in time to see Missy’s arm drop.
“What makes you think it’s that way?”
“I have a good sense of direction,” she said. “But you don’t want to be there. He’ll kill you. Wait for the police.”
“Can’t,” Hannibal replied, hopping up to grab the edge of the car’s skyward window. He reached into the car, clawing for the clips under the dashboard.
“They have guns,” Missy said, in an expressionless voice.
“Me too,” he said, dropping back to the ground. After flashing his Sig Sauer to her he slid it into the back of his waistband. “How far do you think?”
She shrugged. “A mile. Maybe a little more.”
“Okay.” Hannibal looked down at Missy, chocolate skin highlighted by very plain white bra and panties, and considered how simple packages sometimes hold very complex contents. “You were experimenting, weren’t you?”
“Yes.” Somehow, she knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Well, was the experiment a success?”
She smiled up at him. “Well, I learned something about myself. Guess that would be a yes.”
Hannibal nodded. “I don’t see any injuries, but that doesn’t mean you’re not hurt.”
“The shock thing.”
“Exactly,” Hannibal said. “Pick up that phone and call 911 and get an ambulance out here. When the police arrive, send them over to Rod’s house.”
“You could wait for them.”
“No,” Hannibal said, already walking toward the road. “A friend may be in danger. My fault. I have to put it right. And I need to finish this business with Rod.” He turned to being jogging toward the street. He could just hear Missy’s words behind him on the wind.
“Spoken like a true agent of the cosmos.”
Darkness closed around him as Hannibal jogged toward the bridge he had driven off minutes earlier. Before he reached it he had settled into a good running pace and his breathing deepened. As always, he shifted his focus from his aching lungs to the rhythmic sound of his footfalls. Then, as always, his mind wandered to unrelated matters. When asphalt changed to wooden slats under his feet he was asking himself some hard questions.
He certainly didn’t expect Rod to back off in a confrontation. Did the fact that the man tried to kill him justify using deadly force in return? There was also the matter of stealing from Hannibal’s client. Bad, even evil, but not a capital offense. What about kidnapping? Hannibal had found Missy handcuffed to a bed. But it was clear that she had volunteered for that treatment. She might not even call her sexual encounter with Rod rape. And even if he killed Sarge, Rod would be able to make a case for self-defense.
Hannibal’s mouth was dry and he tasted the dried blood in his mouth. Somehow that taste made a mental connection for him to Anita lying in her hospital bed. Then he pictured Marquita the first time he saw her, used up and well on her way to the bottom of a spiral from which few return. Ultimately, anything he did to Rod would be in their names.
Seven minutes later Hannibal stood across the street from Rod’s house, breathing more deeply than he liked and smelling his own sweat. He had recognized enough landmarks to get straight to his objective, and he was sure it had in fact been little more than a mile. He owed Missy a big thank you. She had pointed him well. Too bad she couldn’t tell him what to do now.
He stood with his hands on his thighs, feeling the weight of his P-226 at the small of his back. He was ready to charge the house and stage a rescue, guns blazing if necessary. He just wasn’t sure if a rescue was needed. The blinds at the big front window were drawn tight, allowing only tiny drops of light to leak out. Was Sarge inside, or was he still en route? Or, was he in hiding someplace observing the house as Hannibal was? He might not even be
