shadows and fell into step.
Her chest pounded.
With the knife in his left hand and the gun in his right, he picked up the pace.
The distance started to close.
He kept his footsteps as quiet as death.
Now he was thirty steps behind.
Now twenty.
Now ten.
Suddenly the man turned.
His arm rose.
From the end of that arm, a small flash of orange flame pierced the darkness, here and gone just that fast, simultaneous with an ear-shattering explosive pop.
110
The only window shade in Waverly’s roach-in-the-wall hotel was a spring-loaded, pull- down deal with tattered edges. She woke up Thursday morning when the first rays of daybreak pushed around the borders of that piece of junk. She laid there, torn between getting more sleep and getting things done, before finally rubbing her eyes and swinging her legs over the side.
She took a hot shower that got her 70 % awake.
Then she headed over to the White Spot to take care of the other 30 % with coffee, ending up on a barstool at the end of the counter with a piping hot cup in her hands and a gal named Jane behind the counter that kept that cup topped off.
This insanely early, the diner was a graveyard. All the barstools were empty, plus most of the tables. Two seats down, on the counter in a glass cake holder, was a stack of donuts. The ones on top were concrete but the ones underneath might actually be edible.
She resisted.
If they still tugged at her in five minutes, she’d get one.
Today would be critical.
She needed to find out what Bristol’s investigator, John Stamp, was finding out, if anything. What was the best way to do that? Follow him around? Break into his office while he was out?
She shook it off.
The gal behind the counter, Jane, came over with the pot and topped off the cup. “I saw you eyeing those donuts,” she said. “They’re evil. They’ll break your teeth and steal the soul of your firstborn. Personally I’d go with pancakes. You want some?”
She smiled.
Yes.
She did.
Good idea.
“Thanks.”
Time passed.
The city woke up.
The diner filled.
At ten minutes to eight, Waverly left a healthy tip on the counter, checked her purse to be sure she had plenty of change, then headed outside to find a phone booth.
At exactly eight, she called Su-Moon in Cleveland.
The woman answered before the first ring stopped.
“Waverly, is that you?”
The words were laced with explosion. It sounded like she just stepped off a roller coaster.
“Yeah, what’s going on?”
“You’re not going to believe it,” Su-Moon said. “Bristol was here in town when the woman got dropped off the roof.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I can prove it, too.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ll explain when I see you. I’m heading to Denver.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“Now?”
“Yeah, now. On the first flight I can catch. Tell me how to contact you when I get into town.”
She did.
They’d connect at Waverly’s hotel, fleabag that it was.
“See you soon.”
“Okay,” Waverly said. She almost hung up then brought the receiver back to her mouth. “Su-Moon, are you still there?”
She was.
“How do you know Bristol was in town?”
“He stayed at the Renaissance. He signed the register.”
“Was anyone with him?”
Silence.
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
“Why?”
“The woman he’s with here in Denver is someone named Jaden,” Waverly said. “I’m just wondering if she was with him when he was there too.”
A beat.
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t remember seeing a Jaden on the register.”
“Do me a favor,” Waverly said. “Go back and check. If there’s no Jaden there, at least find out if he paid the room rate for one occupant or two.”
“Even if he paid for two, it wouldn’t do us any good. There was no Jaden written on the register.”
Waverly exhaled.
“Okay, forget it then.”
111
River thought he felt a presence in the room Thursday morning and opened his eyes to
