“Uh-uh-uh,” the squirrel said. “Leave the keys on top of the left front tire.”
So much for that, Will thought as he pulled the keys from his pocket and slid them onto the tire. It’s up to the medallion and shoe inserts now. With my luck, he’ll probably send me somewhere to strip down and put on new clothes.
“Where to now?” he said into the phone as he crossed the street to the Malibu. But the phone had gone dead.
Inside the Malibu he reached under the floor mat and found an envelope containing the keys and a typewritten note. It instructed him to simply drive around for a while. As he did so, he kept an eye on the rearview and side mirrors and tried unsuccessfully to spot someone tailing him. Artie had to be watching. He’d seen him put the keys in his pocket—or had he? Maybe he’d just played the odds that that was what Will would do.
Or maybe not. Everybody had doorbell cams these days, and Will bet that most of the homes in the neighborhood he’d just left had them. Had Artie hacked into one? Maybe that explained the address he’d been sent to. Electronic security devices were a mixed blessing it seemed. The good guys benefitted from them, but so did the bad guys.
He’d been driving for nearly twenty minutes, his stress level ratcheting up to an almost unbearable level, when the phone he’d last used rang, causing him to jump.
“Yeah?” he almost shouted into the phone.
“Now is that any way to answer a phone?” It was a sultry female voice this time. “Shame on you, Agent Anderson.”
“Enough!” Will shouted, his hand clasped so tightly around the phone he was surprised it didn’t crack. He started to follow the shout with a string of obscenities directed at the voice that had been running him in circles, but he gritted his teeth and took several deep breaths instead. Calling the killer names was not a good idea. He couldn’t afford to anger him because it would be Jen who’d pay the price for it.
“Enough,” he said in a calmer tone. “You want me, Artie. Let me come to you.”
There was silence for a few seconds before Will heard a chuckle. The sound made his skin crawl.
“Sooo impatient,” the voice said. “I understand it. I’ve had years to learn to be patient unlike you. But you’re right.”
The voice hardened.
“I’m tired of waiting, too. Turn around.”
Will saw a chain drugstore up ahead on the right. He slowed and turned into the entrance drive and out the exit, heading back the direction he’d come.
“Now where?” he said.
The voice instructed him to head for a mall located at the edge of town.
“Park at the Dillard’s’ end,” the voice said. “Throw this phone out the window and call me again on a new one.”
“When would I have had time to put a tracker on this phone?” Will demanded. “Stop jacking me around.”
“Or else what?” the voice said. “You’ll leave the delectable Detective Dillon to me and go home?”
“Please…” Will uttered the word before he could stop himself, and the sultry voice laughed.
“I didn’t think so.” It turned hard. “Now be a good boy and do what I told you.”
The line went dead.
Will had to blink several times to clear his eyes as he headed toward the mall. Whether it was tears of frustration and anger or tears caused by imagining Jen’s face on some of the bodies Artie had left behind, he wasn’t sure. Both probably. He knew he had to get himself under control. His nerves were at a snapping point, and that could lead to mistakes that he couldn’t afford—that Jen couldn’t afford.
As he pulled into the mall, he dropped the phone he’d been using out the window before driving to the Dillard’s anchor store at the end of the lot. He pulled into an empty spot and left the engine running while he picked up one of the two remaining phones and punched in the number the Walmart clerk had handed him.
“Let’s take this to the next level, shall we?” the sultry female voice said. “See the Holiday Inn across the street?”
Will looked out the driver’s window and saw the motel.
“Yes.”
“Room 103 is reserved in your name. Inside you’ll find a change of clothes. Take off yours and put those on.” The sultry voice giggled. “I’ll be watching, big boy, so don’t try to hide anything from me. And I do mean anything.”
The phone went dead. Will struck the steering wheel once in frustration, then stopped himself. Artie could be watching from anywhere. Will ran his hand along the back of the rearview mirror and pulled the visors down for a look. He couldn’t see anything that looked like a camera, but electronic surveillance devices were getting smaller and smaller. Artie had forced him into this car, so it was likely that he had it set up to watch what he did while in it.
He pushed the visors back up, put the car in reverse, and backed out of the parking space. At the motel, he parked in front of the office and went in.
“Reservation for Will Anderson,” he said.
The desk clerk, a young man in his early twenties, typed on his keyboard.
“Yes, sir, we have it. You requested a specific room, is that right?”
The clerk looked up.
“Yes. Room 103.”
The clerk nodded.
“I’ll need a credit card.”
Will handed him his Visa and waited while the clerk processed the transaction before handing him a key card.
“103 is at the rear of the building two doors from the end.” The clerk gestured to the hall leading off the left side of the lobby. “It’s at the end of this hall, or you can park at the back. There’s an
