night. Bristol killed her, I can feel it in my gut. Where are you by the way?”
Waverly explained.
She was getting ready to board a plane to follow Bristol and the spanked woman to Denver.
“Why are they going to Denver?”
“I don’t know,” Waverly said.
Silence.
“I know,” Su-Moon said. “He killed the woman there Friday night but now something’s gone wrong. For some reason it’s coming unraveled. He’s going there to clean it up.”
“What do you mean, unraveled?”
“I don’t know,” Su-Moon said. “Maybe there was a witness and he found out about it. Maybe he figured out that a hotel clerk or someone had too much information. I don’t know. Did you call that guy you know at Bristol’s firm, the Marlboro Man-”
“-Sean Waterfield-”
“-right, him. Did you call him to see if Bristol has business in Denver?”
“No.”
“Do it. If he doesn’t have business there, that means he’s going back to clean up a mess.” A beat then, “We’re to blame, no doubt. It’s because of the pressure we’re putting on him that he needs to be extra careful.”
“You think?”
Yes.
She thought.
“I’m going to go to Cleveland and run down Bobbi Litton’s murder,” Su-Moon said.
Waverly wrinkled her forehead.
“Why? This isn’t your fight.”
“It is now. We’re too close. Are you going to be staying at your house in Denver?”
“Apartment, not house.”
“Give me the number there.”
She did.
“I’ll call you,” Su-Moon said. “Be careful.”
“You too.”
Waverly dropped another nickel in the phone and dialed the Marlboro Man. “Where’s Bristol?”
A beat.
“Let’s have lunch,” he said.
“Can’t.”
“Sure you can.”
“Not today, honest. Where’s Bristol?”
“I don’t know. He left the office.”
“To where?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “He just up and left. Supposedly he won’t be back for a day or two.”
“Did he go somewhere on business?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Would you know, if that was the reason?”
“Yes, I’d know.”
Waverly exhaled.
“Thanks,” she said. “I don’t know if it means anything, but I actually do like being with you.”
“Then prove it.”
“Maybe I will but I can’t at the moment.”
Thirty minutes later she was buckled into a window seat of a shaky four-prop plane with the armrests in a death grip, swooping up into a turbulent cloudy sky.
84
The vehicle from River’s rearview mirror skidded to a stop next to him. A man in a black T-shirt with a rough, no-nonsense face got out. He flicked a butt to the ground and headed over. It wasn’t until he came around the front end that River saw his right hand.
In it was a gun.
It came up and pointed into his eyes.
“Do you know who I am?”
River studied him.
He was cold.
He was capable.
A scar ran down his forehead, across the right eye, down the cheek and over the upper lip. He wasn’t nearly as big as River but was still a good size, six-one or more. His body belonged to a street cat, sinewy and hard. The cuffs of his T were rolled up, flaunting taut arms built for pull-ups. A red rose was tattooed on his left forearm. Sticking in the rose was a black dagger. He looked like he’d been kicked around and had learned how to kick back ten times harder.
River didn’t know him.
He didn’t want to know him.
“Where’s January?”
“You mean the little tattoo bitch?” The man tilted his head towards the trunk. “In there.”
“Let me see her.”
“She’s a crappy lay. You can do better.”
River fought down thunder in his blood.
“I want to see her.”
The man pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket and tossed them to River. “Sure, put these on first, behind your back.”
River hesitated.
The man hardened his face.
“Do it or things are going to get real ugly real fast.”
River’s chest tightened.
He’d been stupid to stop. He should have aborted. He should have set a trap. He should have done anything except what he did.
“Do it I said!”
River pictured the cuffs on his wrists. He’d be totally beaten at that point. He’d be defenseless. He’d be a mouse in the tiger cage.
The man twisted his face, pointed the barrel of the gun at the trunk and cocked the trigger.
