Walewski behind a wobbly card table in the reception area.
Anyone who wanted to could meet me here, get a book signed, that kind of thing. For the first twenty minutes, I shook hands, made pleasant small talk, and signed everything from books to the palm of one woman’s hand. Almost everybody was nice. Polite too. As far as I could tell, not a serial killer in the bunch.
The only request I refused was a T-shirt that said
“How’s it going over there?” I finally heard through my acoustic tube earpiece.
I looked down the line, where Bree was standing with dozens of fans who were still waiting patiently, chatting with one another. “Quiet so far,” I said. “Strange but nice enough people. Unfortunately.”
Bree turned her back away from the line and spoke low. “That sucks. Okay, then… Sampson, I’m going to take another quick swing through the crowd. I’ll check back in with you when we’re at the front door. Hopefully, somebody here isn’t all that nice.”
I heard John’s reply in my ear. “Sounds good to me. Alex, you riding home with us? Or hoping to get lucky with one of your fans?” I just smiled at the next person in line.
“I’ll be back soon,” Bree said, and disappeared into the crowd. “You be good, now.”
“I’ll try my best.”
A few minutes later, as I was signing a book, I felt a presence behind me.
When I looked up, though, no one was there. But I was sure someone had been.
“She left you a note.”
The woman across the table from me pointed to a piece of paper at my elbow. I unfolded it and saw a printout from a Web page.
Black background, bold white letters. I read the message.
Guess again, smart guy. I’m not psychotic! And I’m not dumb!
See you back in DC, where it’s all happening.
In fact, you’re missing the show.
Chapter 67
“Who left this?” I asked the people in line. “Did anybody see who put this note down here?”
The woman whose book I’d just signed pointed back into the crowd. “She went thatta way, Sheriff!”
“What did she look like?” I asked. “You sure it was a woman?”
“Um… straight dark hair. Black shirt. Jeans. I think? Like everybody else here. Looked female.”
“And glasses!” someone else said. “She had a blue back-pack!”
“Alex”-Bree came back in my ear-“what’s going on over there? Did something just happen? What the hell happened?”
“Bree, we’re looking for a
“We’re on it!”
A ripple of excitement spread inside the crowd as I began to push my way through a tightening knot of people. Not everyone wanted to let me pass, either. Several of them closed in on me, trying to find out what was happening, where I was going, asking me questions I didn’t have time to answer at the moment.
I waved them off as best I could. “This isn’t a game now! Anyone see a woman in a black shirt and glasses go this way?”
A kid smelling of marijuana giggled out a response. “Man, that’s half the people here.”
The crowd shifted again, and I thought that I saw her-at the far end of the lobby. I moved the kid and a few others out of my way. “Let me through here!”
“Bree!” I was running now. “I can see her. She’s tall. White. Carrying the blue backpack.”
“And
“I think so. Could be a disguise.”
When I reached the next corner, the suspect was already more than halfway down a long corridor, running toward the exit at the far end.
“Police! Stop!
Whoever she was, she didn’t even look around as she slammed through the door. It swung back hard, then burst into an opaque web of broken glass.
“East parking lot!” I told Bree and Sampson. “She’s outside! She’s running! It’s a woman!”
Chapter 68
A STRONG WOMAN TOO! She’d completely shattered the door on the way out.
Pellets of glass showered around me as I pushed through the exit door.
A few streetlamps overhead left plenty of shadow around the narrow parking lot. The row of cars directly opposite me showed no sign of life, though.
On my left, the pavement ended abruptly and gave way to an empty stretch of lawn.
Then I heard a sports-car engine fire up. The revving noise came from somewhere off to my right. I stared hard into the semidarkness.
Headlights blinked on, then two shining eyes came right at me.
My Glock was still out, and I figured I had time for at least one shot. I squeezed the trigger. A bullet punctured the car’s windshield with a
I fired another shot. A taillight shattered. It was a small coupe, I saw now. A blue Miata. A neighbor of mine had one, and I recognized the size and shape.
The fast-moving car hopped the curb, then bounced forward into the street.
Then it stopped abruptly! A taxi’s tires squealed on the pavement. The cab had just missed nailing the coupe.
By the time I was on my feet and running, the blue sports car had taken off again.
My badge was out, and I threw open the taxi driver’s door. “Police! I need your cab.”
All the cabbie saw was my gun, but I guess it was enough for him. He was out of his seat immediately, hands held in the air. “Take it!”
The taxi was a V-6. Good, I’d probably need all of that. I clicked off the radio and AC to funnel extra power.
“Alex? Where the hell are you?” Bree’s voice sounded in my ear, faint against the straining engine of the cab.
“In pursuit, I hope. West on O’Donnell,” I called out. “I’m chasing a dark-blue Miata. Maryland plates. One taillight out. I’m looking at it right now. Female driver-though she’s big enough to be a man. Strong enough too.”
“Maybe it’s a man in women’s clothes. He likes to play roles.”
“Yes, he does. But I think this really is a woman. We have to get her!”
The coupe shot past the ramp for I-95 and straight through another intersection. The driver was doing at least seventy-and accelerating.
