Amanda did a good job of blocking out Will, too. “I trust you’ve heard about Evelyn?”
“Yes,” Julia said, drawing out the word. “Poor Almeja. I hope they are kind to her.”
Will fought to keep his mouth from dropping open. Evelyn Mitchell was Almeja.
Amanda laid her hand over Julia’s. Instead of taking it off her knee, she left it there. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything on her whereabouts?”
“Not a peep, but you know I’d come straight to you if I did.”
“Obviously, we’re doing everything we can to make sure she’s returned home safely. I would pull some considerable strings to make this come out right.”
“Yes,” Julia repeated. “She’s a grandmother now, right? Again, I mean. Such a fertile family.” She laughed as if there was a joke between them. “How is that dear, sweet child doing?”
“This is a difficult time for everyone in the family.”
“Yes.” It seemed this was her favorite word.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about Hector.”
“Bless his heart. I was thinking of trading down for a Cadillac.”
“I thought business was going well?”
“It’s not really the time to drive something so flashy.” She lowered her voice. “Carjackings.”
“Awful.” Amanda shook her head.
“These young boys are such a problem.” She tsked her tongue. Will thought he understood at least this part of the conversation. Julia Ling was referring to the young men who had broken into Evelyn’s house. “They see all the gangsters on TV and think it’s so easy. Scarface. The Godfather. Tony Soprano. You can see their little brains spinning. Before long, they get these notions into their heads and they pop off without considering the consequences.” She tsked her tongue again. “I just lost one of my workers through this kind of careless action.”
She meant Benny Choo, the man in the Hawaiian shirt. Will had been right. Julia Ling had sent her strongarm in to clean up the mess Ricardo and his friends had made. And then Faith had killed him.
Amanda must have known this, too, but she treaded carefully. “Your line of business isn’t without its risks. Mr. Choo understood this as well as anyone.”
Julia Ling hesitated long enough to make Will worry for Faith, then finally let out a slow, “Yes. The cost of doing business. I think we’ll let Benny rest in peace.”
Amanda appeared as relieved as Will felt. “I hear your brother’s coping with his new surroundings.”
“Yes,” she said. “ ‘Coping’ is a good word for it. Roger’s never liked the heat. Savannah is practically tropical.”
“You know, there’s a vacancy at the D&C. Perhaps I could see if they’ll take Roger? Might be nice to give him a change of scenery.”
She pretended to think about it. “Still a little too warm.” She smiled. “How about Phillips?”
“Well, that is a nice facility.” It was also where Ignatio Ortiz was serving his manslaughter rap. Amanda shook her head like she was very sorry to say that that particular holiday had already been booked by another family. “Doesn’t seem like the right fit.”
“Baldwin is a better drive for me.”
“Baldwin isn’t really suited to Roger’s temperament.” Most likely because the prison only handled minimum to medium security inmates. “Augusta? It’s close but not too close.”
She wrinkled her nose. “With the sex offender release site?”
“Good point.” Amanda seemed to think on it, though she must’ve already cleared the deal with the state attorney’s office. “You know, Arrendale has started taking in some maximum security prisoners. Only with good behavior, of course, but I’m sure that Roger could swing that.”
She gave a chuckle. “Oh, Mandy. You know Roger. He’s always getting into trouble.”
Amanda’s offer was firm. “Still, I’d think about Arrendale. We could certainly make sure his transition was a pleasant one. Evelyn has a lot of friends who want nothing more than to see that she’s returned home safely. Roger might as well get something for himself in the process.”
Julia stroked the dog. “I’ll see what he says the next time I go visit him.”
“A phone call might be better.” Amanda added, “I’m sure he’ll want to hear about Benny from you rather than a stranger.”
“God rest his soul.” She squeezed Amanda’s leg. “It’s horrible to lose people you care about.”
“It is.”
“I know that you and Evelyn were close.”
“We still are.”
“Why don’t you get rid of Tonto here and we can comfort each other?”
Amanda’s laughter sounded genuinely delighted. She patted Julia’s knee, then stood up from the couch. “Oh, Jules. It’s been nice seeing you again. I wish we could do this more.”
Will started to stand, but then remembered the revolver. He put his hands in his pockets to keep his pants tight enough to hold it in place. All he needed was to break up whatever game Amanda was playing by dropping a gun through the leg of his pants.
Amanda said, “Let me know about Arrendale. It really is a lovely place. The windows are four inches wider in the close-security wing. Lots of sunshine and fresh air. I think Roger will love it.”
“I’ll let you know his decision. I think we can all agree that uncertainty is bad for business.”
“Tell Roger I am at his beck and call.”
Will opened the door for Amanda. They walked back through the shop together. The crew had obviously taken a break. The machines were idle, the stations vacant. The radio had been turned down to a low hum. He mumbled to Amanda, “That was interesting.”
“We’ll see if she does her part.” He could tell she was hopeful. The bounce was back in her walk. “I’d bet my left one Roger knows exactly what happened at Ev’s house yesterday. Julia probably told him herself. She would’ve never let us step foot in here if she wasn’t willing to deal. We’ll know something within the hour. Mark my word.”
“Ms. Ling seems eager to please you.”
She stopped and looked up at him. “Do you really think so? I can never tell if she’s just being affectionate or …” Amanda shrugged in lieu of finishing the sentence.
He thought she was joking, then realized she wasn’t. “I guess. I mean—” He felt himself start to sweat. “You’ve never—”
“Grow up, Will. I did go to college.”
He could still hear her chuckling as they walked toward the front office. Will guessed that he was doomed to have this woman play him like a banjo for the rest of his life. She was almost as bad as Angie.
He was reaching for the doorknob when he heard the first pop, almost like a champagne bottle being uncorked. Then he felt his ear sting, saw the door splinter in front of him, and knew that it was a bullet. And another. And another.
Amanda was faster than Will. She had pulled the gun from the back of his pants, swung around, and fired off two shots, before he hit the floor.
The sound of a machine gun ripped the air. Bullets sprayed inches from his head. There was no telling where the threat was coming from. The back of the warehouse was dark. It could be Ling-Ling, the men who had been working on the cabinets, or both.
“Go!” Amanda yelled. Will shouldered open the door to the front office. Of course their guns were gone from the counter. The disapproving Asian who’d let them in was dead on the floor. Will felt something hard hit him in the back of the head. He was stunned for a few seconds before he realized that Amanda had thrown her purse at him.
Will tucked the bag under his arm and slammed open the front door. The sudden, sharp sunlight blinded him so badly that he tripped down the concrete stairs. The old railing bent under his weight, softening what could’ve been a catastrophic fall. Quickly, he righted himself and headed straight across the parking lot toward the parked SUV. The contents of Amanda’s purse scattered behind him as he searched for the key fob. He thumbed the button and the trunk was open by the time he got to the back o
f the vehicle. Will pressed the numbers on the combination lock. The drawer rolled open.
In Will’s experience, you were either a shotgun person or a rifle person. Faith preferred the shotgun, which was counterintuitive considering her diminutive stature and the fact that the kick from a shogun could tear your rotator cuff. Will liked the rifle. It was clean, precise, and extremely accurate, even at a hundred fifty feet—a good thing, considering this was the approximate distance between the SUV and the entrance to the building. The GBI provided agents with the Colt AR-15A2, which Will rolled up to his shoulder as the front door shattered open.
Will put his eye to the scope. Amanda handled the sunlight better than he had. Without missing a beat, she bolted down the concrete stairs, firing backward, her shots missing the stocky-looking man who was chasing her. He had on dark sunglasses. A machine gun was in his hands. Instead of taking the easy shot at Amanda’s retreating back, he held up the gun in the air as he jumped down the flight of stairs. It was a cowboy move, which gave Will equal opportunity to pull one of his own. He pressed back on the trigger. The man jerked midair and dropped to the ground.
Will lowered the rifle. He looked for Amanda. She was walking back toward the man on the ground. She held her gun down at her side. She must’ve been out of ammunition. Will pressed his eye to the scope again to give Amanda cover in case anyone else came out of the building. She kicked away the machine gun. He could see her mouth moving.
Without warning, Amanda dove behind the concrete steps. Will took his eye away from the scope so he could locate the new threat. It was the man on the ground. Impossibly, he was still alive. He had Will’s Glock in his hand. It was pointed toward the SUV. He fired off three shots in rapid succession. Will knew the heavy-gauge steel cabinet would shield him, but he still ducked as metal pinged against metal.
The shooting stopped. Will’s heart was pumping so hard that he could feel his pulse throbbing in his stomach. He chanced a look back at the building. The shooter must’ve been hiding behind the Mercedes, probably on the other side of the gas tank. Will lined up the rifle, hoping the guy would do something stupid like poke up his head. The Glock came up instead. Will shot, and the gun quickly receded.
“Police!” Will yelled, because it had to be done. “Show me your hands!”
The guy shot blindly toward the SUV, missing by several yards.
Will mumbled some choice words. He looked at Amanda as if to ask what the plan was. She shook her head, not to tell him no, but in exasperation. If Will had made the first shot, they wouldn’t be having this conversation.
He couldn’t think of a way to gesture to her that he had made the shot—not without getting fired—so he pointed to the magazine jutting out from his rifle to pose the question. Was she out of bullets? Her revolver held five rounds. Unless she’d gotten her speed loader out of her purse, there was not much she could do.
Even from this distance, he saw her annoyed expression. Of course she had gotten her speed loader out of her purse. She had probably stopped to put on some lipstick and make some phone calls, too. He checked the Mercedes again, scanning the sights along the contour of the big sedan. When he looked back at Amanda, she had already spun open the S&W, dropped the empty shells on the ground, and reloaded. She waved her hand at him to get on with it.
“Sir!” Will yelled. “I am giving you one more warning to surrender.”
“Fuck you!” The man shot at Will again, hitting the side door panel of the SUV.
Amanda did a crouched walk to the edge of the concrete stairs, then bent her head to the ground to try to see where the man was hiding. She sat back up. She didn’t look at Will. She didn’t pause to line up the shot. She simply rested her hand on the third step from the bottom and squeezed the trigger.
Television had done a great disservice to bad guys. They didn’t show that bullets could go through Sheetrock walls and metal car doors. They also didn’t explain that a ricochet was nothing like a rubber ball. Bullets came out at a very high velocity, and they wanted to go forward. Shooting a bullet into the ground does not mean it will pop back up in the air. Shooting one into the ground underneath a car means it skips across the pavement, pierces the tire, and, if you are sitting the right way, lodges into your groin.
Which is exactly what happened.
“Jesus Christ!” the man screamed.
Will ordered, “Show me your hands!”
Two hands shot up. “I give! I give!”
This time, Amanda kept her gun trained on the man as she walked over to the car. She kicked away the Glock, then jammed her knee into the man’s back, all the while keeping her eye on the office door.
She was watching the wrong door. One of the cargo bays flew open. A black van screeched out, sailing through the air. Sparks flew as it skipped across the asphalt. Rubber burned. The wheels slid in place before they got purchase. Will saw two young men in the cab. They were wearing black warm-up jackets and matching black baseball caps. The van momentarily blocked his view of Amanda. Will raised the rifle, but he couldn’t shoot—not without risking the bullet cutting through the van and hitting Amanda. Two more quick pops sounded. Gunfire. The van screeched away.
Will ran into the parking lot to line up a shot. He stopped. Amanda was on the ground.
“Amanda?” He felt his chest tighten. His throat didn’t want to work. “Amanda? Are you—”
“Dammit!” she screamed, rolling over so that she could sit up. Her face and chest were covered in blood. “Goddamn it.”
Will dropped to one knee. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Are you shot?”
“I’m fine, you idiot.” She slapped away his hand. “This one’s dead. They tapped him twice in the head while they were driving off.”
Will could see as much. The man’s face was gone.
“That’s a damn good shot out of a moving car.” She glared at him as he helped her up. “Much better than yours. When was the last time you were on the range? This is unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable.”
Will knew better than to argue with her, but if he was the arguing type, he might’ve mentioned what a bad idea it’d been to leave their guns on the counter, or how stupid it was to go into this place without backup.
“I swear to God, Will, when this is over—” She didn’t finish her sentence. She paced off, stepping on the plastic compact from her purse. “Goddamn it!”
Will knelt down in front of the dead man. Out of habit, he checked for a pulse. There was a hole in the black warm-up jacket, about two inches from his heart. It was big enough for Will’s finger to poke through. He tugged down the zip, revealing the top of a military-grade tactical assault vest. The bullet’s full metal jacket had expanded on impact, smashing into the shock plate, flattening out like a dog trying to crawl underneath a couch.
K-5, right in the center of the chest.
Amanda was back. She stared down at the dead man without saying a word. She must have been standing downblast when he was shot. Bits of gray matter stuck to her face. There was a piece of bone in the collar of her blouse.
Will stood up. He couldn’t think of anything to do but offer his handkerchief.
“Thank you.” She wiped her face with a steady hand. The blood smeared like clown makeup. “Thank God I have a change of clothes in the car.” She looked up at him. “Your jacket is ripped.”
He looked at his sleeve. There was a small tear where his shoulder had met asphalt.
“You should always keep a change of clothes in your car. You never know what’s going to happen.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Will rested his hand on the butt of his rifle.
“Ling-Ling’s gone.” Amanda wiped her forehead. “She came out of her office with that stupid dog under her arm. Guns blazing. I’m under no impression that she was trying to save me, but it seemed rather obvious that they were trying to kill her, too.”
Will tried to process this new piece of information. “I assumed the shooters were working for Ling-Ling.”
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“If Julia wanted us dead, she would’ve taken both of us out in her office. Didn’t you see the sawed-off shotgun under the couch cushion?”
Will nodded, though he hadn’t seen the gun and the thought of it now brought out a cold sweat. “The shooters worked in her shop. I recognized them from when we first went in. They were putting together cabinets. Why would they try to kill Julia? Or us, for that matter?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Amanda finally realized it wasn’t. “They didn’t want her talking to me. They certainly don’t want her talking to Roger. She must know something.”
Will tried to put the pieces together. “Julia said that the young boys were getting ahead of themselves. Trying to be gangsters. I don’t imagine a bunch of twenty-something-year-old, testosterone-filled guys want to be ordered around by a middle-aged woman.”
“And here I was thinking that men loved that.” Amanda looked down at the dead man. “He’s sweating like a pig. No doubt he was on something.”
Something that had made him capable of taking the impact of a .223-caliber 55-grain full metal jacket to the chest and popping up seconds later like a Toaster Strudel.
Amanda prodded the man with the toe of her shoe, pushing him over so she could check for his wallet. “These youngsters certainly don’t like to leave witnesses.” She slid out the driver’s license. “Juan Armand Castillo. Aged twenty-four. Lives on Leather Stocking Lane in Stone Mountain.” She showed Will the license. Castillo looked like a schoolteacher, not the kind of guy who would chase a GBI agent into a parking lot with a machine gun.
She unzipped Castillo’s jacket the rest of the way. Her Glock was tucked into his pants. She took it out, saying, “Well, at least he didn’t shoot at me with my own gun.”
Will helped her unloop the side clasps on the Kevlar vest.
“He smells, too.” Amanda lifted up the shirt, checking his chest. “No tattoos.” She checked his arms. “Nothing.”
“Try the hands.”
Castillo’s fists were clenched. She uncurled the fingers with her bare hand, which was technically against every procedure in the book, but Will was an accomplice already, so it didn’t really matter.
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