Concept cars rotated on platforms. Pretty girls in tight-fitting skirt suits and prim shirts, and showing a little too much leg, the ultimate blend of sex and money, performed their sales pitches.
Lights and music coming from everywhere.
Directly ahead, very attractive women with badges sat behind long tables, handed out glossy car brochures.
“If we get separated for any reason, this is Hadley Family Central,” Jake said, stooping to the height of his six-year-olds. “Look around. Get a fix on this place, because this is where I’ll come to find you.”
“Okay, Dad,” Stevie said. “Byeeee!” Then he broke free, running ahead toward the European cars in the main hall.
“He wants to see the Ferraris,” Michael explained to his dad, “and the Monstarotties, too.”
Jake laughed as he and Michael followed Stevie, the vast space filling up quickly as the crowd surged in like the tide.
Jake lost sight of Stevie for a moment; then he saw his boy on a carpeted platform as the salesmen pulled the cover from the sleek, silver 2007 Ferrari coupe.
Jake called out over the noise of the crowd. “Steven. Get down. You’re not allowed to stand up there, son.”
When Stevie turned, Jake saw a stricken look on his boy’s face. A pang of fear seized Jake even though his son was in plain sight.
He gripped Michael’s small hand.
“Come on, now, Stevie, get down —”
“The lady in the car, Dad. Something’s wrong with the lady in the car.”
Jake Hadley started to tell his son that the model in the front seat wasn’t real, but as he came closer, peered inside, his heartbeat quickened—then it began to race.
The girl’s open eyes were dulled, her pretty face tipped at an unnatural angle. He saw what appeared to be a wide purple shadow around her neck. She was wearing some kind of evening gown.
What the hell was this?
“Steven!” he yelled at his son, grasping the boy’s arm. “I said, come down, now.”
By now, others had seen the girl, too, her limbs frozen in a waxy parody of a mannequin—stone-dead in the two-hundred-thousand-dollar car.
The salesman in charge of the concession waved the crowd away. His face was pale, his eyes wild, and he was shouting, “Stand back, please. Stand back. Get the hell away from here!”
People swarmed toward the Ferrari, then away from it, a riptide eddying around Jake and his boys.
Sharp screams pierced the peppy pop music, and Jake’s sons broke into tears. They pressed their faces into their father’s body, fiercely hugging his waist and legs.
His heart galloping, Jake hoisted the twins onto his hips and walked quickly toward the exit.
He spoke sternly to the wide-eyed ticket-taker at the door.
“Someone’s dead in there. A woman. You’d better call the police right now.”
Part Five
ONE-STOP SHOPPING
Chapter 80
THE CAR-SHOW VISITORS streamed out of the convention center looking like shell-shocked commuters who’d driven too close to the scene of a nasty, very bloody accident.
Jacobi was waiting for me just inside the big glass doors at the Howard Street entrance.
“Welcome to Groundhog Day,” Jacobi said.