road.
“I got one of his tires,” I explained.
“Describe the car,” Linderman said.
I described the getaway car. Linderman called the Broward County Police Helicopter Unit on his cell phone and passed along the information to a dispatcher. Hanging up, he jabbed me in the arm with his forefinger.
“You need to start going to the firing range.”
“I didn't want to hit Melinda,” I explained.
He shot me an exasperated look. “Jonny Perez is a cold-blooded killer. Our responsibility is to get him off the streets before he kills again. You had two cracks at him, and he got away.”
“You think I could have taken him out, but didn't?”
“You said you wanted to talk to Perez about the victims. I'd like to question him as much as you would, but this isn't a perfect world.”
“Question him about what?” I asked.
At the next intersection Linderman hit the brakes. He took a stack of photographs from the backseat and dropped them in my lap. I leafed through a dozen black-and-white glossies of an apartment complex taken from the outside. In one shot, a sign was visible. It read University of Miami, Coral Gables Campus.
“Theis found those photographs on Coffen's computer,” he explained. “Your daughter's dormitory,” I said.
“Yes, my daughter's dorm. They were taken five years ago.”
“Is that when she disappeared?”
“Yes, Jack, that's when she disappeared.”
I leaned back in my seat with my dog pressed to my side. Lin-derman had found evidence that tied Skell's gang to his daughter's disappearance, and yet he still wanted me to take out Perez.
It said a lot about who he was and how he viewed his job.
I looked at the badge pinned to his lapel and thought of the badge resting in the desk in my office. I supposed that was what separated us. He was always going to be a law enforcement officer, and I was never going to be one again.
His cell rang. He took the call, then looked sideways at me.
“A police helicopter just spotted Perez's car abandoned on the shoulder of 595. Want another crack at them?”
The offer surprised me. I'd figured Linderman was finished with me.
“I sure do,” I said.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Fort Lauderdale has three categories of drivers. Crazies, blue hairs, and people without licenses. Despite the blue flasher on the dashboard of Linderman's 4Runner, not a single vehicle on 595 got out of our way.
“Screw this,” Linderman said.
He drove onto the shoulder and hit the gas. I held on to my dog while looking for the getaway car. Less than a mile up the highway, a black Mustang convertible sat abandoned. Three tattooed guys with crowbars were in the process of dismantling it.
“There's the car Perez was driving,” I said.
“Who are those clowns?” Linderman asked.
“Your everyday car thieves.”
“Look for the police chopper.”
My eyes scanned the sky and found the police chopper hovering over a strip center near where the Mustang had been ditched. Pointing, I said, “Over there.”
Linderman pulled into the strip center and parked. It was a slow day, and only a handful of cars were in the lot. We got out, and Linderman waved his arms in the air to signal the chopper. The pilot saw us and dipped down, momentarily eclipsing the sun.
The pilot was a woman with blond hair. She pointed at the anchor store in the strip. It was called Mattress Giant and was going out of business. Linderman gave the okay sign, and she went back up. Linderman got his shotgun from the 4Runner.
“You still have bullets?” he asked.
I touched the bullets resting in my pocket.
“Yes.”
“Good. Go around to the back of the mattress store, and call me on your cell. If things look okay, we'll enter the store at the same time, and trap them.”
“I left my phone back at Perez's house,” I said.
He shot me a disapproving look. Between my marksmanship and not having my cell, I could tell his opinion of me wasn't very high.
“You're in luck. I've got a spare,” he said.
He removed a bright red cell phone from his jacket pocket, and tossed it to me. It was a newer model and reminded me of one my daughter carried.
“I found it on the lawn at Perez's house,” he explained. “I'm guessing it fell out of Cheever's pocket. You have my number?”
I had his number memorized, and nodded.
“Good. Call me when you reach the back. Okay?”
He was talking to me like I was a kid. I said okay, and walked around the strip center with the phone in my hand. I flipped it open, and a greeting in Spanish appeared on its face. Cheever didn't speak Spanish, and I realized it didn't belong to him.
It was Jonny Perez's.
As I came around the strip center, Buster let out a menacing growl. The Rasta stood by the service door to Mattress Giant. He had the machine pistol trained on two male employees, both of whom wore dress shirts and neckties and had their hands clasped on their heads like POWs.
My eyes searched for Perez. Behind the building was a small parking lot, with signs indicating the spots were for employees only. Perez was in the rear of the lot, forcing Melinda into a blue Chevy Nova, his gun shoved into her back.
I went into a crouch and aimed my weapon. I had a shot at Perez, only it wasn't a good one, and there was a chance I might hit Melinda. I thought about what Linderman had said in the car. Then I squeezed the trigger.
The bullet winged Perez in the head. He let out a startled yell and grabbed his ear. Then he pulled Melinda in front of him and turned her into a human shield.
“Stay back!” he shouted.
I kept my gun trained on Perez. The Rasta remained by the service door, his machine pistol pointed at the employees.
“Jack, help me!” Melinda yelled.
“I'm trying,” I called back.
“I love you, Jack.”
“I know you do,” I said under my breath.
Some hostages shut down when faced with death. Melinda did the opposite, and started throwing her elbows and stomping her heels on Perez's toes. It was one of the bravest things I'd ever seen. Perez lowered his hand and put her in a choke hold. His ear was gone, and blood was streaming down the side of his neck.
“Let her go, and I won't come after you,” I called out.
Perez's eyes said he wasn't buying it.
“Come on,” I said.
Perez aimed his weapon at me. I ducked behind the building and heard a sickening thud. I stole a look around the corner. He had knocked Melinda unconscious and was putting her into the Nova.
