tried to kill Sonny?” Angel said.
“When the trouble comes again, it will be when you don’t expect it. You must guard against what is least likely. One death may not come close to satisfying our killer’s appetite.”
6
Bucky Smith turned his head, tried to focus. Flashing lights. He fucking hated flashing lights. They never meant anythin’ good, or they never had for him.
He hated this town. If he hadn’t just about run out of places to be, he’d already be gone.
Cops driving down the side of Ona’s.
So what? Nothing to do with him. He just had to take a leak and he’d be out of here.
Nobody gave a shit about him. Never had.
Would you look at that? He was in the damn kitchen. What he wanted was the can, the can, dammit.
Where was everyone back here? Yeah, Ona’s Out Back. Tea room, she called it. Shit. He could smell the booze even if the place was empty. Empty, not a single piece of ass sippin’ tea.
The cop lights were out back.
Out back of Out Back.
Damn, he ought to be a poet or somethin’. He needed that can and another drink. If anyone was still workin’ around here.
The fryer smelled good. All those leftover bits of food bubblin’ in the fat. Best part of this nowhere, the food.
Bucky turned back, frowned. He must have passed the can on the way in here.
The side door to the outside slammed open and a guy came in—fast. Bucky turned his head the other way, blinked to look at him. Just a guy in a wet coat.
“You lost?” Bucky said. “Same’s me. Shit. You lookin’ for the can, too?”
The guy just stared at him, his hair dark and sopped, stuck to his face.
Bucky raised his palms. “Friendly, ain’t you? Well, fuck you.” He stumbled toward the passageway to Out Front.
He didn’t see the hand coming.
Fingers dug into his windpipe and he gagged, took a swing at the face that wouldn’t stay still. He clawed at the man’s chest.
Deeper the fingertips gouged. Bucky’s mouth opened. A shove and he fell backward. His skull hit something hard and he felt his bladder let go.
All he heard was the sizzle of the boiling fat.
7
Finn Duhon drove into the parking lot behind Ona’s restaurants. Emma had called him, whispered for him to come, but she wouldn’t say why.
A cream-colored Jeep passed him and the driver honked. Finn honked back but didn’t recognize the vehicle or the driver. Seeing someone drive by as though everything was normal didn’t make him feel any better.
He stopped his car and jumped out. The lights were on in both Out Front and Out Back. It wasn’t that late.
He didn’t see anyone in the lot and started to run past parked cars. He saw Emma’s Lexus and broke into a sprint. His left shoe scrunched on something and he paused to look down.
Car keys. He picked them up and knew immediately that they were Emma’s. Finn breathed through his open mouth. Heading for her car again, he punched the number pad on his cell, got through to the police station and demanded to speak with Matt Boudreaux.
He heard Matt’s voice and said, “Get to the parking lot behind Ona’s. Something’s happened to Emma. I think she’s been kidnapped,” then cut off.
The Lexus was empty, just as he’d known it would be. No wonder she’d whispered; she must have been in someone else’s vehicle.
Maybe she was in a trunk. Emma was no dummy. He could hope she’d find a way to put out a taillight to get air—or puncture the spare tire.
How long had she been in trouble before she could call him? Finn stared around.
He heard a siren and saw the reflection of flashing lights against the sky.
What should he do first? This wasn’t like jungle warfare—the only kind of warfare he knew about. He didn’t have the automatic reactions that would work here.
My God. He didn’t know where to start.
People who wanted children badly enough cut babies from their mothers’ wombs.
He bent double and took a deep breath. Finn Duhon didn’t panic. He’d been a warrior and that was something that changed you forever. He needed the police and they’d be here any moment.
Breaking into a jog, he headed back toward his car.
“Finn!”
He jumped, searched in every direction.
“It’s you.” And it was Emma’s voice. An instant later she broke into sobs.
Blood pounded into Finn’s head. He followed the sounds and found her easily. Under a pickup truck, on her poor, swollen belly, the side of her face resting in the dirt. She still clutched her cell. Her very curly, honey-blond hair fell over her face.
“Hold on,” he said, on his knees, peering at her. “Don’t move. Matt’s coming. I’ll call the medical-aid car now. And I’ll see if I can get Mitch Halpern to come over.”
“Take me home,” she said in a small, broken voice. “Help me out of here and take me home.”
“Cher, please don’t move.” He stayed on all fours where he could see her and make sure she didn’t attempt to move. And he called emergency again, this time asking for medical response.
Emma dropped her phone and reached out a hand. Finn closed his fingers over hers. “Has the man gone?” she asked quietly. “I didn’t hear him go. Be careful, Finn. He could creep up on you.”
Sirens grew louder.
“Man?” Finn said. “There was a man? Did you recognize him?”
“No, it was too dark. Look around. Make sure he isn’t coming back.”
Finn did as he was told but the only movement was a guy coming around from Ona’s Out Front to get on his motorbike, which he’d parked near a wall. He kicked off the stand, climbed on and roared away. He didn’t even glance toward the parking lot.
“How long have you been down here?”
Emma pushed at her hair. “I don’t know. A long time. Finn, I can move my hands and legs just fine but it was hard to calm down. I listened to the baby. There wasn’t any pain. That’s good, isn’t it? I thought blood would come—I expected to feel it rush out.”
“You’re
