along the balcony railing. It flapped away. “But it still don’t answer why she give it to you.”
“Obviously, she doesn’t want to see you in person.”
“Obviously. Is that your word?”
“Anyway, she didn’t give it to me, exactly. She took off in the middle of the night and she left two envelopes on the table-one for me, one for you.”
“And what was in yours, boy?”
“A kind of apology, I guess you could say. For taking off without saying goodbye. But yours is fatter. Could be money in it, I don’t know. Maybe photographs. Says Urgent on it. You want me to open it?”
“No, I do not.”
“Okay, fine. Just give me an address, I’ll drop it in a mailbox. Wish I’d never met either of you.”
Bill chuckled. “Burned your ass good, did she?”
“Fuck you.”
“Okay, kid, where you at right now, you in Dallas?”
“Yeah, but I’m leaving in about forty-five minutes.”
“Fine. Bring it to me over at the Hyatt Regency. Room 3114. Keep in mind, if you try any funny stuff, you will pay the price.”
The shower had one of those expensive rainforest heads, and there was a basket full of soaps and shampoos. Big soaps. There was a bidet, and a sparkling marble floor. Yes, it looked like Mr. Bullard earned himself a good dollar.
When he came back out, Bullard was still on his cell out on the balcony.
Zig took a gander at the other room. King-size bed with a big fluffy duvet, another flat-panel TV, must have been fifty inches, and hotel robe and slippers. The Gideon Bible was open on the bedside table. Did anyone actually read those things?
An eight-by-ten picture lay on the bed, a hot-looking girl in tank top and jeans. Zig recognized her from Clem’s description-green eyes, dark hair, kind of a fuck-you expression on her face. He could see why this guy was obsessed with her. Body like that, yes sir, Zig could definitely work up an interest quite aside from the financial. He was equipped for all kinds of eventualities.
No female stuff anywhere in the room. No way she was staying here. So, if Bill knew where the hell this Sabrina was, where the hell was she?
Zig went back to the other room. He examined the round table where a white laptop was open, the screen dark. Zig glanced over at the balcony and casually pressed a key. The screen lit up with a map. He bent to look closer.
“What the hell you think you’re doing?” Bullard said.
Zig grinned. “I see the Lord has opened his own website here, Mr. Bullard. ‘Find My Girlfriend dot com,’ is that what it’s called? Let’s see, what’s this do?”
He hit Update. The map shifted and the red arrow took a step east on 80.
“Get away from there,” Bill said. “I’m not joking now.”
“Okay, okay, I’m cool.” Zig backed away from the laptop, hands raised in the air. “Nice to see you and the Lord communicating by cyberspace.”
“The Lord communicates through whatever media He pleases. Now tell me-you ain’t no private investigator, so why you so all-fired interested in where Sabrina is at?”
“I told you, I need to ask her some questions. Beyond that, I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Bullshit.”
“Tell me something, Bullard. You’re a religious man. You imagine you’re a good influence on that girl?”
“I know I am. Sabrina suffered a godless upbringing. I’m doing my best to rectify that.”
“I see. You think you’re straightening her out?”
“Yessir. I have opened her heart on several issues. But there is none so blind as he who will not see, and she is still resistant in many ways.”
“You advise her on the Ten Commandments? ‘Thou shalt not steal’ and so on?”
“I prefer to focus on the positive. The benefits of prayer and good works.”
“Because it seems like she doesn’t get the part about not stealing.”
“What’re you talking about, peckerwood?”
“It seems your little sweetheart ripped off Mr. Maxwell and his nephew. Relieved him of every last cent.”
Bullard took a step forward, a manoeuvre that seemed to double his size. “You’re lying to me.”
“I swear.” Zig raised a hand. “Hand me that bible and I’ll swear all over it that she ripped them off. My associates saw them crying in their beer about it, and they don’t have a clue where she is.”
“And you want to get your hands on what she took, that it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Bill drew his thirty-eight, ugly little black thing poking out of his fist. “You ain’t going near Sabrina. I won’t abide it.”
“Okay, okay. Take it easy, Mr. Bullard.”
“I will see you dead before I let you go near that girl.”
“The way I hear it, it isn’t me you have to worry about, it’s that Maxwell kid. Last we saw, she couldn’t keep her hands off him.”
This was pure invention, and Zig realized immediately that he had overplayed. Bullard swayed as if he had been struck. He fired blind, catching Zig in his left arm.
Zig spun and fell. He rolled over and at the same time pulled out his own automatic. He fired up at Bullard and a spot appeared on his cheekbone about the size of a red dime.
TWENTY-ONE
Sabrina was zooming along a scenic route east across the southern United States. The CD player was going full blast with the Coldplay live album she had picked up at the Dallas HMV, the wind was whipping her hair into a full Medusa, and she was singing her lungs out. She’d checked out of the Red Roof about ten minutes after she’d spotted Bill’s Blazer and spent a restless night at the Terrell Day’s Inn, wondering how the hell he’d tracked her down.
She was pretty sure she’d lost him now; the rearview showed nothing but the Home Depot semi she’d just zipped by. And what could beat this? Swipe the swag and blast off, hit the highway running and no one telling you what to do. So here she was, in a microscopic denim skirt, a white tank, and a nifty pair of Calvin Klein sunglasses, having fun, thank you very much.
Or trying to. There were a couple of things she was trying hard not to think about. Her father, for one. As soon as she had got behind the wheel of this racy little car, she had had a change of heart. El Paso was 600 miles back the way they had come, and no one would be expecting her to go there, so she had phoned the hospice to make sure he would be able to receive a visitor. We’ve been trying to reach you, they told her. Your father died yesterday.
Which was why she was now taking the scenic route in the other direction. In a way, this little escapade was an homage to the old bastard. During the few times he was home and paying attention to her, Sabrina’s father had taught her that theft could be a reasonable way to make a living, provided you boosted only those things that offered a good rate of return. It made no sense to risk jail time for paltry sums. If, on the other hand, you were looking at, say, buying a car, financing your education, or even just upgrading to a more comfortable lifestyle, well, that might be a risk worth taking.
She had hardened her heart to him over the years; her mother’s suicide had done that. But she was discovering that death cancelled all debts, and already she was wishing she had not been so cold to him. It wasn’t anger she was going to carry from now on, it was regret.
Even before she had learned of his death, her attitude had begun to change. It was being in the Rocket with
