He was missing now. Had been since yesterday morning.
I remembered Padgett’s comment about Cale Lovette quitting the Patriot Posse. She said she told a cop back then. A big guy with dark hair.
Had that statement made its way into any report?
The chill spread through my body.
I STOOD PARALYZED WITH INDECISION. IF THE KILLER WAS STILL free, was I in danger? I continued to puzzle over Galimore. Ricinabrin would not be his thing, but had he been protecting others? As a member of a group? As a hired hit man?
That made no sense. Had he simply colluded years earlier to protect the shooter? What was going on today? Was there a new plot in the works that Gamble was going to stumble upon?
Meanwhile, the rain. Where to go?
The security office. Galimore might be there, but so might others. Besides, he knew where to find me. He was not likely to snatch me from his own office.
My sneakers were soaked. My jacket was molded to my torso and head. Though the night was warm, goose bumps puckered my neck and arms.
“Oh, shit.” Slurred, from my right.
The Danica Patrick girl was swaying drunkenly. Dropping her can of Miller High Life, she doubled over and moaned.
I tried shifting left. The shirtless guy was right at my shoulder.
Lightning streaked. Thunder cracked.
Vomit hit the ground at my feet.
Any place was better than here.
Lowering my head against the deluge, I set out for Joey Frank’s hauler.
I was halfway down the Nationwide row when my iPhone vibrated.
Finally. Slidell returning my call.
I stepped between two enormous transporters and dug the phone from my pocket. Tugging my sleeve as low as possible for protection against the rain, I raised the device to my ear.
“Brennan—”
Something ticked my exposed fingertips.
Instinctively, I shook my hand to dislodge the insect.
My thumb accidentally hit the disconnect button, ending the call.
I punched redial. My finger slipped on the wet screen. I noticed that my skin was burning where I’d been stung.
Shoving the phone inside my jacket, I wiped moisture off the screen with my shirt.
I heard movement to my left, glanced sideways. The upraised hood blocked my peripheral vision.
I was dialing again when footsteps squished in the muddy grass. Hurried. Close.
As I raised my head, a viselike arm wrapped my throat.
The phone flew from my hand.
My head was yanked backward. Something snapped in my neck. Rain pummeled my upturned face.
I struggled.
Rapid breathing in my ear blocked all other sounds. A noxious blend of oily hair, wet nylon, and stale cigarette smoke filled my nostrils.
Terrified, I kicked back with one heel. Connected.
The arm tightened, squeezing my trachea and cutting off air.
I gagged. Clawed.
I saw rain slicing diagonally across the sky. An antenna. A light on a pole.
Dark spots.
Lightning sparked.
Then the world went black.
The rain had stopped. Or had it?
Overhead I heard pinging, like nails hitting tin.
My mind groped for meaning.
I was inside. Under a roof.
Where?
