‘There’s a fence around the property. That’s the electronic code to get past the locks.’
‘What kind of security did Sorenson promise?’ Miles asked.
‘He… said we’d be safe.’
‘How many buyers coming?’
‘I have no idea… please. I have a family.’
‘So do I, asshole,’ Groote said.
‘Groote. Don’t kill him.’
‘Tell me about security.’ Groote raised his fist.
‘I was just assured… it would be safe… I don’t know, honestly.’
Groote shook his head at Miles. ‘He can’t be calling and warning Sorenson.’
‘Don’t kill him,’ Miles said again.
‘Yes.’
‘No.’
‘Goddamn it, you want to walk into a freaking ambush? Better him than us.’ Spittle flew from Groote’s mouth.
Miles punched Singhal. Hard. Singhal’s eyes rolled, the guy collapsed.
‘Good idea,’ Groote said. ‘He might start to scream, us discussing his lack of a future.’
The blow had hurt his hand and Miles worked out the pain with a shake. ‘You kill him, and we get caught, then you’ll never see Amanda again. The guy in Yosemite, shooting him you saved lives, and we’d all swear to that in court. But this would be cold-blooded murder, and I’m sure you’re not into that gig. It never pays.’
Groote shook his head. ‘He can’t warn Sorenson.’
‘Then help me.’ Miles tied up Singhal with the curtain cord, gagged him with a shredded pillowcase, stuffed him in the closet. He called the front desk, told them he was Singhal, he was sick with a vicious stomach flu, could they please be sure he wasn’t disturbed today. No housekeeping, yes, and please put no phone calls through.
‘I don’t like this,’ Groote said.
‘We have six hours before the buyers are due,’ Miles said. ‘Come on.’
They got their rental car and headed for I-35.
They didn’t see the car pull out after them, staying back a half mile but never losing sight of them.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Groote took the exit, three left turns, and drove along a street that held modest homes, most immaculate, a few slouching in disrepair. At the far end of the street, looming tall over the neighborhood, was a Gothic building of gray granite, forbidding. A stone sign that read YARBROUGH HOSPITAL EST. 1893 was worn with time, bedecked with graffiti. Above it, on wooden posts, a weathered, worn
sign advertising a fund-raiser Halloween haunted house called ‘Nightmare Hospital’ was covered by another, smaller board that said HORIZON PROPERTIES NO TRESPASSING.
‘Horizon,’ Groote said. ‘Same as the fake company that owned Dodd’s car.’
‘Sorenson killed Dodd and then uses his resources,’ Miles said.
‘Nice and efficient,’ Groote said. ‘You clearheaded, Miles?’
‘Yes.’
‘Take this.’ Groote handed him a small gun and an ankle holster. He’d acquired a modest armory with a phone call after their arrival in Austin. ‘Good to have if it gets ugly and you’re down or your clip’s empty.’
‘Thank you.’ Miles attached the holster, let the cuff of his pants drop over the weapon, surprised at the gift. ‘Groote?’
‘Yeah?’ Groote switched off the car’s ignition.
‘When this is done… we walk our separate ways. No need to hurt each other, is there?’
‘I can’t think of one, Miles.’
‘What will you do?’
‘Get my daughter where she can’t be hurt again.’
‘Then you should probably give up your war on the Duartes.’
Groote looked at him.
‘The people that hurt her and killed your wife. It was the Duartes, wasn’t it? You know they did it even if the FBI’s not sure.’
‘Why do you think that?’
‘We don’t have time for subtlety, Dennis. I don’t want you putting a bullet in my back as soon as we get Frost.’
‘Why would I be so rude, Miles?’
‘Back in L.A. I asked you about the ring you blamed for hurting your family. You dodged giving me an answer, and it bothers me. Because there’s no reason for you not to tell me. Unless it was the Duartes. Because I’ve got a connection to them. You know about my work for the Barradas, spying on rival crime rings, including the Duartes. You were FBI. Of course you’d know.’
Groote gave him a sidelong glance.
Miles kept his gaze steady on Groote’s. ‘I am very sorry for your loss, but I have never hurt your family. I stole some financial information from the Duartes, and the FBI gave me fake files about the Duartes to use in a sting against the Barradas. I didn’t ever hurt the Duartes enough to bring them to a boiling point. I don’t know what aimed them at your family, but it wasn’t me. They were clearly already in the Bureau’s headlights. You don’t have a reason to blame me. So if you’ve got revenge on your mind, forget it.’
Groote’s mouth twitched into a smile that died after a moment.
‘I’m going to go back into Witness Protection, if they’ll have me. I still have to testify against the Barradas, what’s left of them. And then they want me to testify against other crime rings. It puts a lot of trash out of business. And it’s faster and easier than killing them off, one by one.’
Groote looked straight ahead.
‘I have a friend in WITSEC to call. You said you met him – DeShawn Pitts.’
‘Yeah,’ Groote said, his voice neutral.
Miles watched him for a sign of reaction. ‘I’ll tell DeShawn – since he’s a good guy – where Amanda is, if Sorenson knows. So we can get her protection immediately, get her to safety right away.’
Groote said, ‘That’s a kindness, Miles.’
‘You hurt my friends. You hurt Nathan, you attacked Celeste. I won’t forget it. But I know you were trying to save your daughter.’
Groote coughed into his fist.
‘I’m helping your kid, Dennis, and that evens any grudge you’re thinking of carrying against me. Clear?’
‘Crystal,’ Groote said.
‘Is there anything you want to tell me? Any reason I should have to be angry with you?’ Thinking, Did you kill DeShawn?
‘I can’t think of a single one,’ Groote said.
The silence hung between them like a curtain. Finally Groote spoke: ‘We keep the plan simple. If Sorenson’s there, we take him. If not, we take Frost if it’s there, or we hide ourselves in the hospital until Sorenson shows up and then we take control.’
‘Simple.’
‘Most things are.’
‘Come on,’ Miles said. ‘Let’s end this.’
FIFTY-EIGHT
