'Drop the gun,' Cab said, 'or I'll kill you both.'
'I don't think you will,' Diego replied calmly. 'You'd let me kill you if it meant saving this wonderful whore.'
Vivian begged. 'Cab, please.'
He kept the gun steady in his long, outstretched arms. 'Viv, you know he's going to kill you, don't you?'
'Cab,' she whispered. 'Just go.'
'Why do you think he brought the gun to the beach, Viv? Just because the police might come? Come on, you're smarter than that. This man travels solo. He was going to let you make love to him one last time, and then he was going to put a bullet in your head.'
Diego began to back up in the sand.
'Once he's safe, you're dead, Viv,' Cab told her.
He could see her blue eyes. They were always the same - smart, cool, and infinitely calculating. She knew he was right. It made him feel good to realize that she'd been betrayed too. Her eyes dipped to the sand, and he understood; she was about to drop out of his arms. Her legs buckled, she fell, and there Diego was, head and torso exposed. Cab fired four times, in his chest, neck, eye, and forehead. What he enjoyed most was the surprise. The disbelief. As if it had never occurred to Diego that this woman could ever betray him.
Diego lay on his back in the water, dead. Vivian sprang to her feet, crying, as if in relief, as if he'd freed her from a monster. 'Oh, God, Cab, thank you, thank you.'
She took a step toward him, her arms wide.
'Stop.'
Vivian froze. 'Cab, what are you doing?'
Cab aimed his gun again, this time at her head. 'Get on your knees,' he told her.
She stood in the sand. 'Cab.'
'Do it!' he shouted.
Vivian's knees sank into the dark sand. She squared her shoulders, as if to show off her breasts to him. She was beautiful, even with her white skin splattered with Diego's blood.
'So what happens now?' she asked him.
'Now I take you to the police. Now you spend the rest of your life in a stinking hole.'
'You can't do that to me.'
'Watch me.'
'I lied to you, Cab,' she admitted. 7 cheated on you. I betrayed you. But the rest? I didn't know. Diego was running from you, but I had no idea what he was planning. I would have told you if I'd known.'
'Twenty-seven people died, Vivian. The police won't care. No one will care.' 'Just let me walk away. You have Diego. He's dead.'
'You can mourn him while you sit in your little box.'
Vivian's face screwed up in anger. 'Is that what this is about? I fucked you, and now you fuck me back?'
'This isn't about you and me.'
'Oh, like hell it's not.' Vivian spread her knees wide, exposing the shadow between her legs. She leaned backward, stretching her torso, balancing on her palms. 'Is this what you want? You want a last ride, like Diego?'
He felt his fury resurfacing. 'Shut up.'
'Come on, Cab. I'm just a whore. I'll do whatever you tell me to do.'
'Stop it. How could you do this to me?'
'I'm sorry. We were both fools.'
T loved you,' Cab shouted. 'I still love you.'
She bowed her head. Her hair fell across her face. 'Then let me go. Don't put me in jail for the rest of my life just because I lied to you.'
'I don't have a choice, Vivian.'
'Cab,' she pleaded again.
He wanted it to be over. He never wanted to see her again. He wanted to begin the process of dismantling her face from his memory. Cab let his arm fall, pointing his gun toward the beach. He hadn't counted on her desperation, her willingness to betray him again. Vivian grabbed Diego's gun from the sand, taking him by surprise. She didn't hesitate. She wasn't sentimental. In a single motion, she swung her bare arm round and fired.
She missed. She was an amateur. The bullet sang by his ear, but Vivian never made the same mistake twice. Her arm shifted, aiming again, and he knew her next shot would be dead square into his brain.
Cab raised his arm and pulled the trigger at the woman he loved. He didn't miss.
Cab's wine glass was empty, and his skin was numb. He turned his back on the harbor and went inside. In the warmth of the apartment, he smelled his quiche burning, and when he opened the oven to a cloud of smoke, he saw that his dinner was charred and inedible. It didn't matter. He wasn't hungry anymore. He poured more wine. More than half the bottle was gone.
His phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and checked the caller ID and saw that Lala Mosqueda was calling from Florida. He was glad to have a conversation with someone other than Vivian, and the truth was, he missed Lala. He'd felt himself falling for her when they dated. He didn't know if their relationship would have gone anywhere, but he hadn't wanted the risk of leaving himself vulnerable, as he had done once before. That was why he'd pushed her away. As usual.
'Mosquito,' he said automatically, and his face screwed up with self- disgust. He was doing it again. 'Sorry. Lala.'
'Hello, Cab,' she replied. 'I tried you twice. Where are you?'
'The Arctic, I think. I'm pretty sure I saw a polar bear. Anyway, the signal comes and goes around here. Are you still at the office?'
'No, I'm home.'
'Good. You work too hard.'
Lala was slow to reply. He knew she was wondering if he would sting her with a joke. Anything to maintain their distance.
'Yeah, well, home's no treat. The neighbor's yipper dog is barking again, and someone didn't take out their trash this week, and the a/c is broken, so it's like a compost pile in the rainforest in here.'
'Florida,' he said.
'Exactly.'
'You're welcome to stay at my place while I'm gone,' Cab suggested.
Lala was silent.
'It's right on the beach,' he added.
'I know,' she replied coolly.
'I know you know. I'm just saying. The a/c works. You could feed my fish.'
'You have fish?'
'Actually, no.'
'Are you drunk, Cab?' Lala asked.
'A little.'
'So what, is this a game or something?'
'No, I'm serious. If you want to stay there, I have a spare key in my desk. You should do it.'
'Thanks,' she replied, 'but I think I'll pass. We both decided that once was enough when it came to my staying at your place. Remember?'
Cab knew he deserved the reproach. He also knew it was easier to open the door to a woman when he was a thousand miles away. 'Sure.' 'Nothing personal,' she said with an edge.
'No.'
'I called to give you an update on this end,' she told him.
'Go ahead.'
He listened to her quietness on the line. They'd both pushed too far. It had become a sport with them, leaving bruises on the other. He half expected her to apologize, but she didn't, and he didn't want an apology anyway. That would just make him feel sorrier for himself.
'You made the right choice,' Lala said. 'Going to Door County, I mean. So far, things are still pointing that way.'
'You mean Mark Bradley?'
'Yes, but not just him.'
'Then who?'
'The boyfriend. Troy Geier.'
'What about him?' Cab asked.
'I tracked down a girl who was at the hotel pool on Saturday night when Glory and Troy were there. According to this girl, Glory was flirting with other boys at the pool, right in front of Troy. I mean, it sounds like she was groping some of them under the water. Troy flipped. He pulled Glory aside, and the two of them went at it. The girl couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but she got the gist. When Troy stormed away, she said he looked like he was ready to explode. Those were her words.'
'Troy didn't strike me as having the guts to stand up to anyone,' Cab said.
'Well, what if he woke up in the middle of the night and Glory wasn't back in their room? We know he'd been drinking, and he was already pretty steamed at her.'
'True enough. Any word from the ME? Was there evidence of sexual intercourse?'
'He can't say yes or no,' Lala replied. 'That's the bad news. The Gulf gave her a salt-water douche.'
'What's the good news?'
'The good news is that two of her fingers were buried in enough sand that the water didn't wash away all the organic material. He found some skin cells, enough to run DNA matching. Including the sample we took from Mark Bradley. We'll need to get a swab from the boyfriend, too.'
'I'll work with the sheriff's department up here,' Cab told her. 'Just for the hell of it, see if we can get a sample from the bartender. Ronnie Trask.'
'Already in process. Mr Trask was glad to oblige in order to clear his name.'
'Good. Oh, there's something else you can do for me. It looks like Glory may have been a witness at a murder scene several years ago. Sounds bad - a husband torched his house with his family in it. The guy's still at large. His name is Harris Bone. Come up with everything you can on him and the fire, OK?'
'Sure,' Lala said. 'Is there a chance this guy was in Florida?'
'I don't know. Once we get a profile, let's start comparing it to hotel guests. Glory saw someone she knew, and she got scared. If it was Bone, she had plenty of reason to run.'
'OK.' She added, 'You want more good news?'
'Definitely.'
'I got another call. Another witness.'
'Tell me someone saw Mark Bradley on the beach that night,' Cab said.
'You lead a charmed life,' Lala replied. 'This guy had a room on the Gulf side on the tenth floor. He says he couldn't sleep, so he was out on his balcony in the middle of the night smoking a cigar. He saw a man heading out to the beach from a ground-floor room below him sometime after two thirty.'
'Could he identify him?'
'No, the man's back was to him. But he said the guy was wearing a bright yellow tank top.'
'Did he see Glory, too?' Cab asked.
'Not exactly, but he spotted this same guy down on the beach a while later. He could see the tank top. He couldn't make out everything at that distance, but he's sure the man met up with a girl down there. And get this. He says the two of them were kissing.'
* * *
Chapter Twenty-One
The Camry dove into the black side door of the abandoned pickup.
Glass sprayed. The headlights shattered and went dark. The chassis crumpled like an accordion, sucking up the energy of the crash in a loud, tortured twisting of metal. The car swung into a dizzying spin but stayed upright, a mess of folded steel. Ahead of them, hammered by the impact, the pickup rolled bottom over top and spilled into the gully on the far side of the road.
Inside the car, Hilary felt her body snap forward, airborne. In the fraction of a second before the safety belt seized across her chest, the air bag exploded at two hundred miles an hour and began to deflate as she crushed against it. The balloon filled her face, and then she lurched backward, tossed between the seat and the strap like a rag doll. It was over as quickly as it began. The spin slowed. The momentum of the car bled away, and it drifted to a stop at an angle on the highway.
She heard a hiss of steam venting, but otherwise, the aftermath was oddly silent. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she blinked, opening them but seeing nothing. There was a chemical smell in the car. Pieces of the shattered windshield sprinkled into her lap like popcorn, and cold air blew through the gap and stung the abrasions on her cheek. As her eyes adjusted, she saw the air bag drooped over the dashboard. Outside, over the tented metal of the hood, she saw the outline of evergreens beyond the car and a slice of night sky.
'Hilary.'
It was Mark. His voice was strangled with fear and urgency. Her brain was rattled, and she momentarily forgot how to speak.
'Hil.'
'I'm OK,' she murmured.
'Don't move.'
She heard him struggle with his door, prying it open. When he spilled on to the road, his knees caved, and he grabbed the frame to steady himself. His shoes kicked through metal and glass as he came around the rear of the car. He yanked on her door, and she felt him unlock her belt, and she dissolved limply into his arms. She clung to him as he helped her out of the destroyed chassis. Her legs bent like rubber as they hit the ground.
'You have to sit down,' he said.
She didn't protest. They were near the shoulder, and he kept her upright for several steps until she could sink down on to the dirt. Her legs dangled over the ditch. Her hair was plastered over her face. He slid down next to her and supported her back.
Hilary put a hand to her cheek, and it came back wet. 'I'm bleeding,' she said.
'You have a cut from the glass. That's all I see. How are you?'
She took stock of herself. 'No serious damage, I think. What about you?'
'Same.'
She eyed the remains of the Camry, which was twisted into an unrecognizable heap almost to the windshield. On the other side of the highway, she saw the upside-down wheels of the pickup jutting out of the ditch.
'God, Hil, I'm so sorry,' he told her. 'If I'd lost you—'
'You didn't.' She added, 'Can you walk? We should see if anyone was in the truck.'
'I'll check.'
Mark pushed himself up. Hilary watched him limp past their car and skid down the side of the ditch near the pickup. She could see his head and shoulders as he examined the truck. When he climbed back to the road, he called across to her.
'It's empty.'
He returned to the open driver's door of the Camry and reached down to the floor. She saw the trunk pop with a soft click, as if they were doing nothing but putting groceries inside. He reached into the trunk and extracted a first aid kit and a roadside emergency pack. He dug into the pack, and soon she heard sizzling and saw a fiery red light glowing as he lit a flare to warn oncoming traffic.
He came back and bent down beside her. He'd brought a blanket from the trunk, and he wrapped it around her shoulders. He dabbed at her cheek with a soft cloth, causing her to wince. The cloth came away doused in red.
'Facial cuts really bleed,' he said.
'How bad is it?'
'Not bad. Small.'
She knew she sounded vain, worried about a scar. She wondered if she would be reminded of this moment every time she looked in a mirror. 'I'm still beautiful, right?' she said, cracking a wan smile.
'Gorgeous.' He applied a small pad to her face and covered it with tape. He caressed her other cheek with the back of his hand, and she held it there, savoring his touch. His face flickered along with the light of the flare.
'Did you recognize the truck?' she asked.
'No, I haven't seen it on the roads around here.'
'Where's the driver?'
Mark shook his head. 'I don't know.'
'He could still be close.'
Whoever had driven the pickup and then left it in their path had disappeared into the woods and escaped on foot. Or maybe he was still in the trees, watching them. Mark stood up and made a slow circle, studying the forest. Hilary closed her eyes and listened for noises close by, like the sound of branches snapping underfoot. She heard nothing. The sensation of being watched, which had dogged her at home, was gone.
'I think we're alone,' she said, 'but he was there before.'
'What do you mean?'
'At the house. He was at the house, too. Remember? You heard something outside.'
He nodded. 'Who's doing this to us?'
'I don't know.'
'I'll try to reach nine one one,' Mark said. He dug into his pocket for his phone and checked the signal strength. 'Thank God for Verizon.'
'I love that little guy with the glasses,' Hilary murmured.
She waited and listened to Mark estimating their location for the emergency operator. Her body ached, and she was exhausted and hungry. The blanket didn't stop her from feeling chilled, and her pants were cold where she sat on the ground. She closed her eyes.
'Ten minutes,' she heard Mark say.
She didn't reply. Her head swam. She was conscious of Mark sittin
g on the road behind her and of his arms gently taking her shoulders and easing her body back on to his chest. He stroked her hair and whispered in her ear. I love you. Thank God you're OK. She tried to say something, to talk, but the signals left her brain and broke into fragments long before they reached her mouth.
She had only one more conscious thought before she drifted away.
Someone was trying to kill them.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cab found Sheriff Reich behind his desk on Thursday morning in the county administration building in Sturgeon Bay, which was the southernmost town on the peninsula. Sturgeon Bay was where people drove to get a taste of the suburbs in chain stores, big box retailers, and greasy fast food restaurants. North of the city, those things disappeared. The hour-long drive from Sturgeon Bay to the tip of the rock at Northport was a journey past miles of gnarled cherry trees, roadside farmers' markets, and sleepy block-long seaside towns. To Cab, it felt like a ship-in-a-bottle world.
Sheriff Reich sat in a leather chair that was oversized for his compact frame. He wore black reading glasses on the end of his stub nose and a white uniform shirt with silver buttons. His brown sheriff's coat, looking starched and perfect, was hung behind the door. On the walls, Cab noted photos and commendations from the man's service in Vietnam and framed newspaper articles of major Door County events from the past thirty years. There was also a Wanted poster featuring the jailhouse front-and-side photographs of a fit, balding man in his late thirties.
The name on the poster, in bold letters, said Harris Bone.
Reich, who was poring over paperwork, took off his black glasses and eased back in his chair when he saw Cab in the doorway. 'Detective Bolton,' he said.
'Good morning, Sheriff,' Cab said. 'I'm surprised to see you here so early. You have a long commute from the island.'
Reich shrugged. 'Most days I fly my Cessna down here. I keep a place in town for the bad weather. Otherwise, I'm not at my desk much. I don't believe a sheriff makes much of a difference when he's stuck inside.'
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