“I wish she’d decide if she’s going to take him home with her or not,” Jen said. “I’m beat.”
“Relax and enjoy yourself. Pretend it’s your night off, and you’re out having a good time with that fed of yours.”
“It’s not my night off, you’re not my dream date—sorry to break it to you—and I’m not having a good time. How can I relax when I can’t take my eyes off that woman over there?” She sipped her third Coke and scrunched up her face. She was starting to feel bloated. “I wonder what’s going on with the others?”
Hank sighed. “Okay, okay, I can take a hint. I’ll go check in.”
He was back in a few minutes.
“Nothing’s gone down yet. Some of the women are still out, like our girl. Some stayed home. Sue Carpenter’s still at The Palomino, and it looks like the Setters girl is shacked up with her boyfriend for the night.”
Jen felt relief that Al’s target appeared to be protected for the night. At this point, she didn’t care which of them got the killer as long as it wasn’t Al. She cared too much for her partner to want to see him destroy his life by turning vigilante.
“I need another Coke.” Hank swiveled in his seat to look for their server.
“I’d hold up on that order, if I were you,” Jen said. “It doesn’t look like we’ll be here long enough for you to drink it.”
Randall had apparently made up her mind. She and the young man were walking toward the door. Jen and Hank followed the couple to the door and into the lot. Terri and the man stood for a minute, talking quietly. She turned and headed for her car, while he got in a newer model white Outback. Jen thought maybe she’d turned him down after all until they saw the man pull out of his space, stop and wait for Terri to pull out of hers, then fall in behind her. Hank notified the others that she was leaving and taking a friend with her. The Focus pulled out of the lot, the Outback followed, and Jen swung in a discreet distance behind.
CHAPTER 42
The Focus pulled into the driveway of Randall’s house while the Outback pulled to the curb just past the driveway entrance. Jen pulled the unmarked to the curb a half block down and cut the headlights, leaving the motor running. The man got out of his car first, but by the time he’d made it to the Focus, Terri was opening her car door. She smiled at the man, closed her door, and then tugged on the handle to make sure it was locked. She turned back to the man and had just taken his outstretched hand when he was struck from behind by an assailant who jumped from the shadows at the corner of the house.
“Move,” shouted Hank, as Jen threw the unmarked into DRIVE and screeched to a stop in the middle of the street. Jen radioed for assistance and jumped out only seconds behind Hank.
The young man was on the ground, propping himself on his forearms, groaning and shaking his head. His assailant had Randall backed against her car, slapping and cursing her. He was short, but Jen saw muscles bulging through his clothing. His hair was disheveled and his eyes wild—the look of a mean drunk.
“Don’t, Jimmy, please don’t.”
Terri Randall was shielding her face as she begged. Jen realized that she and Hank had just gotten themselves in the middle of a domestic disturbance, not an attempted murder by a serial killer.
“Police officer!” shouted Hank. “Knock it off, mister, or your butt is going downtown!”
Jimmy faced them wild-eyed, his fists clenched, as Jen and Hank held their identification where he could see it.
“Who the hell called you anyway?” he shouted. “Nosy neighbors can’t mind their own business!” He slammed his fist into the roof of the Focus.
“I’m gonna tell you one more time.” Hank had turned quiet. Jen knew that signaled he was almost at his boiling point. He was standing less than two feet from Jimmy and staring calmly into the man’s face. “Knock it off and knock it off now. You got it?”
Jimmy stared sullenly into Hank’s face, not answering. Drunk as he was, he apparently recognized that Hank meant business.
“I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt,” Hank said, “and take your silence as a ‘yes.’ Now let’s see some identification.”
“I ain’t got any.” Jimmy thrust his chin out in defiance.
“You’re trying my patience.” Hank stepped closer.
“He’s my ex-husband.” Terri Randall spoke up for the first time. She was still crying, and Jen could see a bruise beginning to form on her cheek. “His name is Jimmy Howard.”
“You bitch!” Jimmy shouted, moving toward her. “I don’t need you to tell the cops my business.”
As Jimmy started forward, Hank grabbed him by the right arm and swung him around, while Jen grabbed his left arm. Together they pinned him against the side of the Focus.
“You’re under arrest,” Hank said, and the fight was on.
Jimmy tried to come off the car. He got halfway around when Jen kicked him in the back of his right knee, causing his leg to buckle. He lost his balance and staggered into the side of the car. Hank used the opportunity to slap his cuffs on the man’s right wrist. Jen forced his left arm farther back, and Hank slid the remaining cuff over that wrist, ratcheting both up tight. Jimmy continued to struggle, cursing nonstop, as Hank and Jen forced him over the hood of the car and began patting him down.
“Don’t hurt him! Please don’t hurt him!”
Terri had stopped crying and was now as wild-eyed as her ex-husband. She started toward
