Private Vegas (Private 9)

Olsen marched her through the office, then through the storage room. He angled her so that he could open the rear exit, then put his free arm around her shoulder and dug the gun into her side.

They were behind the strip mall, in a narrow parking lot used by the shop owners, their names stenciled on the asphalt. There was no one around, just empty cars and a couple of Dumpsters.

Olsen pushed her toward a blue Ford Taurus parked outside the back door facing the road. He changed the position of the gun, screwed it hard into her back while leaning down to open the trunk.

“Get in, Val. Or I will shoot you and stuff your body inside. You’re a big girl, but maybe you’ve noticed, I spend time at the gym.”

Val could see the traffic on the road that ran perpendicular to the alley, only fifty yards away. She pictured herself running, getting help from a motorist. If she ran, she would have a better chance than if she got into the trunk. No. If she ran, he would shoot her. As long as she was alive in the trunk, she was…alive.

“I need help to do this,” she said.

He supported her as she put a leg into the trunk, then he applied pressure to her back, gave her a shove.

She fell in and curled up in the cramped space.

“Be right back,” he said. “And then we’ll go for a ride.”

“Wait,” said Val. “Look at me. I’m not lying. I’m a private investigator and our satellite is tracking me—”

Lester reached up and slammed the trunk closed.

Chapter 102

LESTER OLSEN LEFT the goddamned girl in the trunk and went back into his office. He used Val’s phone and credit card to book a flight in her name from McCarran to Honolulu, then returned her phone to her purse.

Next, he opened his briefcase on his desk, tossed in his laptop and power cords. He had a new, prepaid boost phone in his desk drawer all charged up. He put the charger into his briefcase, put the phone in his jacket pocket.

His safe was inside the supply room. He opened that, took out his passport, the wad of cash, the credit cards, put all of that in the briefcase too.

He went to the credenza, opened the doors, and took out a dust rag and a bottle of Windex. He sprayed the rag with the ammonia and wiped down the arms of the side chair, the top and edges of his desk. Then he took the rag out front and cleaned the intercom button and the door handle.

A young mom and little boy walked by, and smiles were exchanged. When they had passed, Olsen stepped back inside his doorway, locked the front door, and then double-locked it. He returned to his office, collected his case, Val’s purse, and his go-bag with a shaving kit and a change of clothes. Then he left by the rear door and locked that too.

As always, the Ford Taurus was gassed up and ready, an ordinary ride with fake registration, fake plates, all matching his fake ID, all good to go. The getaway car was his ace in the hole, an ace he’d hoped he’d never have to play. But he would play it now, and he would win.

Val was thumping the lid of the trunk when he got there, but if the girl thumped and there was no one to hear it, what the fuck did it matter? His adrenal glands were pumping adrenaline overtime. He loved adrenaline. Thrived on it.

The guy who owned the tanning salon came out, Tony something. Big dumb guy. He waved to Olsen, then got into his van and started to back up. Olsen waved, then put the bags into the backseat of the Taurus.

He got into the driver’s seat, adjusted the mirrors, put Miles Davis’s Kind of Blue into the CD player, and started the engine. He called out loudly over his shoulder, “Everything okay back there, Valerie? You need anything, you let me know.”

There was a muffled thump and a few words from the rear. He thought she’d said, “Please, Lester. Let me out.”

“I’m over you, Val,” he shouted.

He turned on the AC, then backed the car out carefully. Didn’t want to bend any fenders in the damned parking lot.

A minute later, he was on West Spring Mountain Road. He waited at the stoplight, thought about how the girl might be missed today, but not at four in the afternoon. Her phone’s GPS was active and if anyone was keeping tabs on her, they’d track her phone to the airport.

He used the boost phone to call Barbie.

“Barbie, it’s Lester. Guess what—I’m coming out to see you. Yes. This is payday. You know what to do? Okay. Stay home, all right? I should be there by nine or so. I’ll phone you later.” He laughed at how excited she was. “Yes,” he said. “Me too. Me too.”

When the light turned green, Olsen said, “Bye” to Barbie and disconnected the call. Then he stepped on the gas and headed toward the airport. First he had to deal with the girl.

He knew exactly what to do.

Chapter 103