gulp of air, Bobbie concentrated on the doorknob. Slowly her hand descended to wrap around it. Braced for battle, she twisted the damned thing and jerked the door open. No one jumped at her. No sound of running footsteps echoed. Nothing but the darkness and the stale air being circulated by the old HVAC system.
“Coward,” she cursed herself as she stormed back to her bedroom.
Just another secret she kept from the world. Bobbie Gentry was a coward. Without at least one of her weapons she was nothing but a sniveling scaredy-cat. No matter that she’d taken every defense and hand-to-hand combat class she could find between here and Birmingham, she was still a coward.
The world knew the Storyteller had taken her family, but they didn’t understand he’d taken something else from her as well...some vital piece she couldn’t name.
Doesn’t matter. She peeled off the T-shirt and shorts she slept in and tossed them onto the bed. She didn’t need that piece to do what she had to do.
Stepping into a pair of panties, she scanned the floor for her shoes. The black leather loafers lay next to the closet door. She pulled on a sports bra and grabbed a pair of socks. Yanking the plastic from a freshly laundered suit, she surveyed the row of pullover blouses that were basically alike except in color. Scooped neck, short-sleeved, functional. She grabbed a white one. The navy suits and black suits were all the same. Serviceable and comfortable.
Dressed, she threaded a regulation leather belt through the loops on her trousers, and one by one stationed her police-issue Glock, cell phone and badge around her waist. She grabbed the black leather shoulder bag that held the rest of her life, including Tic Tacs, latex gloves, an emergency tampon, sunglasses, wallet and her keys, and stepped into her loafers. She headed for the door. At the living room window she checked the street, noted her surveillance detail at the curb. Only one uniform this morning. He lifted a McDonald’s coffee cup to his lips, and her own need for caffeine awakened.
There would be coffee at work. She didn’t want to take the time to stop at a drive-through en route. Now that her head was clear of sleep, she realized the call from Owens meant new developments. If her presence had been requested despite being on admin leave, something big had gone down—something related to the Storyteller.
Outside, the young officer flashed her a smile as she loaded into her Challenger. “Nice ride.”
“Thanks.” She started the engine, grateful for the quiet exhaust system. When she’d bought the Hellcat, she’d immediately taken it to a shop to tone down its roar. She wanted the speed and agility but not the growl of the beast under the hood. With this vehicle, if the need arose, she could outrun basically anything else on the road.
Traffic was light. No kids hurrying along the sidewalk headed for school. Jamie would have started pre-K this fall. The realization sank like a massive rock in her gut. She blinked away the burn in her eyes and forced her attention back on the passing surroundings. D-Boy lifted his head and watched as she rolled past. She’d filled his water bowl and taken him a treat around midnight last night. He was a good dog, but she didn’t need one.
Nick Shade’s image intruded on her thoughts. He’d been watching her. She’d seen him at the fountain last night. There was a darkness about the man. She lacked enough detail to make a valid assessment beyond the fact that he disturbed her somehow. Just another obstacle and potential distraction she didn’t need.
She rolled to a stop at the intersection behind a vintage Camaro as black as the car she drove. The Camaro waited for an opportunity to turn left on Fairground Road. She’d seen it around the neighborhood. Probably belonged to a member of Quintero’s thug gang. One of these days the guy was going to get what was coming to him. He ran the illegal activities on this side of town. Everyone knew it, but no one could prove it. He and Bobbie had butted heads more than once.
When five then ten seconds passed with no traffic and no movement from the Camaro, tension slid through her. She reached for the gearshift to move into Reverse, but the passenger-side door of the Camaro opened and a man emerged.
“Speak of the devil.” What the hell did he want?
Javier Quintero approached her passenger-side window and leaned down to stare at her. “I need to talk to you, mami,” he said, the glass muffling his voice.
She powered down the window. “We have nothing to talk about, Javier.”
He unlocked the door and got in.
Bobbie rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Your friend—” he hitched his head to indicate the cruiser behind her “—is causing my eses discomfort.”
Like she cared what his homeys suffered. “Get out of my car, Javier.”
In her side mirror she watched the officer emerge from the cruiser. She swore as she powered her window down.
“Ma’am, is everything all right?” Officer Delacruz, she read his name tag, already had one hand sitting on the butt of his weapon.
“Everything’s fine.” She offered one of her fake smiles. “Just chatting with a neighbor. Wait in your car, Delacruz.”
The painfully young officer, who shared absolutely nothing but a Hispanic heritage with the gangbanger currently occupying her passenger seat, glanced at Javier before giving her a nod and heading back to his cruiser.
“You see what I mean?” Javier complained. “This is bad for business.”
There were a number of things Bobbie could have said just then, but she decided in the interest of time she would give it to him straight. “You know that serial killer who almost killed me?”
Javier nodded. “I remember. He’s one sick motherfucker.”
On instinct, Bobbie checked her mirrors. “He’s back, so the chief put a tail on me.”
Javier laughed out loud, showing off his gold-and-silver grill. “Your jefe thinks that little boy back there is going to protect you, mami?”
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“You tell your chief this is my neighborhood,” Javier said, ignoring her comment. “That fucker comes up in here—”
Enough. Bobbie slid her Glock from her belt and jammed it in his face. “Get out of my car.”
His mouth eased into a big grin, stretching the scar on his cheek where someone had sliced his face the last time he was in prison. “Don’t tease me, mami. I get hard when you play with me like this.” He flicked out his tongue and traced the muzzle.
She gritted her teeth. “Get out.”
The smile vanished and his brown eyes bored into hers. “Tell your chief that Johnny Law needs an unmarked car. He’s fucking with my cash flow and I don’t like it.”
With that demand he exited her car and climbed back into the Camaro. The driver spun out, tires smoking and squealing. Bobbie shook her head and rolled to the intersection. She hoped Delacruz hadn’t pissed his pants.
Criminal Investigation Division, 8:15 a.m.
Bobbie entered the building and waved to the sergeant stationed at the visitor’s registration desk. If
