Becoming Quinn

He propped himself up on the top of a split-rail fence that ran along the back, and waited.

* * *

“We need to know where he went,” Durrie said, more to himself than to his temporary partner.

“I’ll go,” Larson offered immediately.

“No. You stay right here. I’ll go. Is that understood?”

“I hear you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Without any warning, Durrie shot out a hand, latching onto Larson’s throat, and shoving the younger man backward. At the same time, he stuck a leg behind the other man’s calves. Larson thudded to the floor with Durrie coming down on top of him. As the air woofed out of the assassin, Durrie jammed his knee into Larson’s gut, and removed the assassin’s gun with his free hand. He then leaned down so that their faces were only an inch apart.

“You think you’re the smartest man in the room no matter where you are, don’t you?” Durrie said. “I know you think the rest of us are a bunch of idiots, and you could do everything better on your own. Well, I’ve got news for you, Mr. Larson.” He grinded his knee into the man’s stomach. “You’re going to have your chance to prove that, because after this, no one is ever going to work with you again. You are death waiting to happen. And the farther the rest of us can get away from you, the safer we’ll be.” He glared at Larson. “Now, back to the question. Do you understand my instructions?”

“I…I understand,” Larson whispered, his voice raspy.

“I’d like to think you learned a lesson here. But unlike you, I’m not that stupid. We finish this job my way, then we never work together again. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

Durrie held his position a moment longer, then stood up, pushing all his weight through the leg still resting on Larson’s stomach.

“My gun,” Larson squeaked when Durrie was finally on his feet.

“What about it?”

“Aren’t you going to give it back to me?”

Durrie stared incredulously at the man lying on the floor. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?” He stuck the gun in his kit bag, checked the spy hole once more, then opened the door and slipped outside.

It took him several minutes, but he finally found Oliver sitting on a fence in the carport area. There were a couple of empty slots nearby so he guessed one must belong to Berit Davies.

Sorry, kid, he thought, meaning it. You’re going to be waiting a long time.

Holding his position, he activated his mic again. “Larson.”

“What?”

“Take the woman’s bags and move out now. Go right, not left, when you reach the path.”

“But the car’s to the left.”

“Go right.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Durrie suspected, Larson had learned nothing.

Two minutes later, Larson’s voice came back over the comm. “I’m at the car.”

“Put the things in the back. I’ll be right there.”

Durrie pulled the earpiece out so that he didn’t have to hear any useless comments Larson might make, but he didn’t immediately leave his position. Instead, he continued to watch the cop.

Are you going to give up? Is this it? Or are you going to keep giving me trouble?

Admittedly, Durrie wasn’t sure what he wanted the kid to do.

There was something about him. Something…

No. Forget it. Not worth the effort.

He pulled slowly back from where he’d been hiding, then disappeared into the night.

* * *

Jake finally gave up at 3 a.m.

He told himself that something big must have gone down to keep her on the clock so long, but there was a small part of him, a little nagging peck, that kept saying it might not be that at all. He pushed the voice as far down as he could, and contented himself with the thought that he’d come back in the morning and buy Berit breakfast.

Though he was exhausted, he thought for sure he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep when he got home. He was wrong.

He slept, all right. Unfortunately, it was quite possibly the worst sleep he’d ever had.

20

When Berit’s car wasn’t there the next morning, Jake began to really worry. He decided to chance a call to work, asking for one of the rookies he knew who was working days, and who might—might— be willing to talk to him.

“Why are you calling me?” Gary Andrews asked, his voice a tense whisper.

“I just need to ask you a question, okay?” Jake said.

“Are you kidding me? I can’t be talking to you. You’re in deep shit. I don’t want any part of that.”

“I’m not going to get you into trouble or anything. I just need to know if Berit is on duty.”

“Berit?”

“Officer Davies.”

“I know who Berit is,” Andrews said. “Why do you need to know that?”

Jake had anticipated the question. “She loaned something to me that I was supposed to bring to work today, but, obviously I’m not coming in. I swung by her house, but she wasn’t home.”

“Hold on.”

Jake could hear the clicking of a computer keyboard, then Andrews came back on.

“She’s not due in until four.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks. Hey, do you know if she was working last night? I tried then, too, but she wasn’t around.”

“What are you doing? Stalking her?”

“No. Of course not.”

A couple more keyboard clicks. “Yesterday was her day off.”

“She didn’t come in to cover for anyone?”

“Not according to this.”

“Thanks.”

Andrews hung up without saying anything more.

Not on duty last night? Then where the hell was she?

A boyfriend? Not that Jake knew of, and she certainly would have told him. Maybe she went to visit someone. But that didn’t explain why she wasn’t answering her cell phone, especially since she had specifically told him she was going to call him back after she checked out the BMW.

The nagging little voice suddenly wasn’t so quiet anymore.

The BMW.

Oh, God.

He quickly accessed her voice message again and listened to it. She had found the BMW at an impound yard, but she hadn’t said which one. Dammit. The only thing he could do was locate it himself.

At the fourth yard he called, the man on the other end said, “Well, we did have