“And you’re just handing it to me?”
I could see his eyes turning into little sergeant’s badges.
“I’m the gift that keeps on giving. Now go!”
And it was true: I had more gifts to give him. Or at least one more gift: a very large veterinarian named Símon Flores. I’d keep feeding Randy tips. He’d be my conduit to Heidi. The next tip would have something to do with Anthony Costello’s files on Serena and several other choice items turning up in Símon’s apartment. Of course, Símon would be gone and buried by then. Vincent would see to that.
I hung up, headed into one of those airport junk stores, and bought the tackiest outfit I could sling together: a Hawaiian sweatshirt, a HAIL TO THE GATORS baseball cap, mirrored sunglasses. Then I went into the bathroom and changed. When I was done, I stood for a beat checking myself out in the mirror. I certainly didn’t look like Detective Sean Walsh. Not at first, second, or third glance. I was all set to sit back and watch the show, no matter who came for Serena.
By then, I figured I’d given Heidi a big enough head start. I walked back to gate 16, pulled out the burner phone, and dialed Vincent’s number.
“I’m assuming you know better than to call without good news,” he said. “So, do you have her?”
“Not exactly. I got a tip.”
I told him where she was. I told him how long he had to come get her.
“I thought I was clear: that’s your job, Detective.”
“But here’s the thing: I’m at a murder scene on the ass end of town. I couldn’t get there in time if I wanted to.”
“How reliable is this tip?”
“One hundred percent.”
I hung up. I figured this way I’d at least have an argument to sell. I told you, Vincent. I went straight to you, as soon as I heard. It’s not my fault my boss got the same tip. Besides, I’d say, I have something better than Serena: I have Anthony’s killer.
With the hour of departure approaching, flight 201 looked to be packed. Not a spare seat anywhere in the waiting area, and plenty of people siting on the floor. I leaned against a support beam and watched. Serena had pulled her hat over her face as though she was napping. Trumpet-playing members of the marching band decided this would be a good time and place to tune their instruments, at least until their chaperone told them to cut it out. Between the band and a half dozen newborns, it was going to be a very unpleasant flight for a whole lot of passengers.
Countdown to boarding hit the fifteen-minute mark. I couldn’t stop myself from casting glances in every direction. If no one showed, I’d have no choice but to bring her in myself. Heidi would come down on me hard, and Vincent would have his boys give me a world-record tune-up before outing me to the press. But once Serena set foot on that plane, there’d be nobody to say Sarah didn’t do it.
A flight attendant cleared his throat into the sound system, announced that the plane was ready to begin boarding. I stutter-stepped forward, then pulled up short. Two airport rent-a-cops had entered the seating area. They were walking the rows, comparing each female face to an eight-by-ten photo. Serena spotted them. Even from a dozen yards away I could see the blind fear take hold. She broke into a full-out run, but it didn’t do any good: the taller of the two men was on top of her before she cleared the waiting area. I watched them cuff her, lead her away.
At first I figured Heidi had sent them. It wasn’t her style, but maybe she got caught in bumper-to-bumper traffic, called ahead. Then I realized: they were Vincent’s men. They had to be. Airport cops on the up-and-up wouldn’t have left Serena’s bag behind.
Chapter 28
THEY LED her away in the opposite direction of the main terminal. I followed, trailing a few yards back. The crowd of moving bodies made it easy to blend in. I pulled out my cop phone, got Randy back on the line.
“Pretend you’re talking to your snitch,” I said. “Is Heidi on her way or not?”
“We’re just through customs. We’ll be there in—”
“We?”
“Me, Detective Haagen, and a handful of uniforms. It was my tip. She told me to throw Marty in a holding cell and tag along.”
“So she didn’t call the airport police? Tell them to pick up Serena?”
“Why would she? Like I said, we’re here now.”
Meanwhile, the airport cops were steering Serena down a side hallway leading to an unmarked metal door. I hung up on Randy.
Think, think…
“Officers,” I called, running after them, waving my arms, pretending to be out of breath. “Officers, please wait.”
They turned toward me, looked none too pleased. One of them held up a hand as if to say “That’s far enough.” Serena turned, too. Her face was streaked with mascara, and she was in bad need of a Kleenex. If she recognized me, she didn’t let it show.
“There’s an unattended bag at gate 16,” I said, which wasn’t exactly a lie. “I heard some kind of rattling coming from inside. It sounded like a grandfather clock gone haywire.”
“We’ll send someone over,” the short one said, sounding bored and impatient.
Up close, the duo looked more formidable than I’d imagined. The tall one could have dunked on Jordan any day, and the short one made up for his lack of height with a barrel chest and anvil arms.
“I took a picture of the bag,” I said. “So you’d know what to look for.”
I held up my phone as if I wanted them to see, then flipped it around and hit Video.
“Smile,” I said. “You’re going to be on the six o’clock news.”
That got their attention.
“Mike, go handle this,” the pituitary case said.
“What
