Power Play (FBI Thriller 18)
“It’s definitely a closet for you now, and guards outside the door who’ll have Uzis all around.” She felt his fingers lace through hers. She looked down at their hands. “I was going to tell you over tacos at lunch, but Davis started telling about how he was going out with Natalie Black to that function this evening, and I decided not to push it, to wait until tonight. Big mistake.
“What I don’t understand is why this person gave up staring at me and decided on a drive-by on a motorcycle. That doesn’t sound like a stalker to me. It’s too soon for that kind of escalation. I mean, two days of watching, then kill me?”
He hugged her close. “No, not a stalker, but he was casing you out for a hit, and it was a clumsy one at that, so he’s not a professional. It’s obvious he had to be hanging around the Hoover Building today, watching for you, following you. You never noticed anyone while you were driving?”
“No. But you know, I was thinking about Lily and Simon and how it’s so great Ethan was born healthy and how over-the-moon both of them are—and how your sister deserves happiness. I wasn’t concentrating on anyone possibly tailing me. I mean, why would I?”
“He was at the grocery store, then outside that baby store. We’ve got to figure out what changed between yesterday and today to make him go after you. And in a busy spot with lots of people around.”
“Maybe he was waiting for a chance, and today was his first opportunity. He must have followed me from the service station, thought I was an easy target and thought, Wowee, rev up the cycle, cruise right up to her, shoot her down.”
He pressed his face against her hair, breathing in slowly, getting control of himself. He said against her ear, “So who have you pissed off lately?”
She spurted out a laugh, pulled back in his arms. “Well, there’s Alex Benedict, Esquire, isn’t there? That smarmy lawyer has been threatening me he’d have my job for harassing his thug client, Tommy Cohen.”
“I can’t see either Teflon Tommy or his lawyer calling for a hit on you. Bad for business. And they wouldn’t have hired a bozo like the guy who shot at you today.”
Sherlock leaned into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “I was sort of joking. I’ve given this a lot of thought and I can’t come up with anyone, Dillon. If you want the truth, that’s depressing. I mean, I’ve been a special agent for a good amount of time and yet I don’t have anyone in my past who hates me so much they’d go out of their way to put me down. There’s only Marlin Jones, and that was a long time ago. You’d think I could at least come up with a couple of enemies.”
He laughed at her outrage.
“I really thought we’d get a good description from the Thompson couple who were right there close up when the guy jumped off that Kawasaki after I shot out his tire.” She sighed again. “I was sure they’d be able to give us at least a flash of something about the man while he ran past them. How could they say they didn’t see him? How’s that possible?”
“They’re both nearing ninety, Sherlock. One has macular degeneration and the other is swimming in cataracts. They’re really a nice old couple,” he added, “and they wanted to help, but the fact is I don’t even think the Thompsons even realized you were shot at, from what they said.”
“I wish I’d gotten a better look at him myself. I’ve been going over what I saw of him all evening, and there’s nothing more. Like I told the officers, he was on the tall side and kind of thin. A really nice camel wool coat, khakis, and boots. I couldn’t tell his age because he was wearing sunglasses and had his head all bundled up. That’s all I’ve got.” She sighed again. “Well, the forensics team might find some fingerprints on the motorcycle or DNA, if the gods are smiling on us. With any luck, he’ll be in the database.”
“We’ll check the street cameras outside the Hoover Building, and any along Prospect Street near the service station. If you’re right, and it was an old Colt M1917, but I doubt he bought the gun on the street. I wonder how he got hold of such an old weapon.”
“He probably didn’t know how to buy a throwaway. Maybe it belonged to his grandfather. Hey, where are you going?”
Savich turned to look down at her. He saw the slight bulge of the bandage beneath her nightgown sleeve and felt a spurt of fear. “I was going to put a brighter lightbulb in the closet so you won’t strain your eyes reading when I lock you in.”
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