“Great,” she muttered. “They didn’t find anything last time, so let’s hope they find something this time. But you know what? I wouldn’t put it past them to actually have evidence there that puts this kid in the right place.”
He looked over at her. “But what would his motivation be now, some fifteen years later?”
“I did talk to him about that,” Kate noted. “He wasn’t supposed to be released until this last week. So, in theory, if somebody was just doing the math, they would assume that he was just now out. But anybody who watches the news or TV would know that a lot of these guys get out early. But again, maybe our murderer didn’t know about Rick’s early release. Maybe the killer didn’t look. Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe that was the timeline that he gave himself permission for, and, when the time was up, he went out and took another life because he wanted to.”
“Imagine”—Rodney shook his head—“just doing something like that because you felt like it.”
“There has to be a motivation for it, and that’s what I don’t get.”
“Well, it seems to be tied up with the kid somehow,” Rodney suggested.
“We’ll find out soon enough. But, if the evidence comes in, pointing to him, it won’t be a slam dunk in my mind that he’s the culprit.”
“Yet you’ll find a lot of other people thinking that itisa slam dunk.”
She nodded. “Oh, I know. It’ll just add to the pressure.”
“Of course,” he agreed, “but that’s what we do, isn’t it?”
She smiled and asked, “You driving?”
“Hell yes, I’m driving,” he replied. “Last time you drove, you got shot at.”
*
Simon walked throughthe building, studying the repairs that had been done. No flooring was down yet, but drywall had started in multiple rooms. At least they had some sheets up, though nobody had started taping yet, but it would get done before long. He’d had several truckloads of drywall delivered; the forklifts were moving materials up and down the various floors, and the crane was out there putting stuff on the different balconies to move into each of the rooms. Everything scheduled to make it fast and efficient.
But, at the same time, the building had almost a lonely feeling to it. He stepped out on one of the balconies and looked down. It was a beautiful area that had a view of the harbor, and that was worth a lot. In this city it was worth so much more than you would expect, since everybody was after that golden slice of view. He could make a ton of money off this place. Well, at least he could, if things would ever stop going wrong.
At the moment every change order was killing him with upcharges, and there had been too many to count. He headed down to the next floor and walked around, checking on the work being done. His foreman would be here any moment, but, in the meantime, Simon wanted to see for himself. It seemed like the minute he gave over control to somebody else, shit went wrong. He had learned that the hard way and had no intention of ever doing it again.
He stepped into one room and looked around, and the scream caught him in the back of the neck, almost sending him flying forward. It was such a strong sharp noise in his head that it was almost visceral, sending him tumbling into the wall. He couldn’t even cry out in that moment, his body bent over, warding off a blow coming at him from an unexpected source.
And yet, as he rolled and twisted, his martial arts training kicked in, trying to save him from this hidden threat, even though he saw nothing here. But his brain was slow to compute it and didn’t want to acknowledge there was no physical threat because it absolutely knew something was wrong. He lay on the ground, the bare plywood under his back, as he stared up at the ceiling, where wiring was hanging at all angles, waiting for the electricians, who were still working their way around through the building.
He took one slow deep breath.
“I don’t know where the hell you are,” he said out loud, “but you sure as hell need to be found before this kills me.”
The words hit him wrong immediately because it wasn’thislife hanging in the balance; it was hers. He closed his eyes and whispered quietly, “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
He listened for any sound that would tell him something, but there was always just this scream and nothing else. He thought he heard a noise in the background, something that would jolt him. And then he swore.
He heard a hammer. He sat up slowly, intent on the noise that he could hear, yet the hammer sound seemed to be distant too. He frowned at that, wondering where it could be coming from. It could be at any construction site, and then there were voices.
The woman appeared to be in some zombie zone, probably knocked out from the pain. Another voice in the background spoke, but Simon couldn’t hear. It was as if she was just, well,… like she was not just unconscious but unconscious from the pain. “Tell me something,” he whispered, “anything. I just want to help.”
He heard a shout from down below. Groaning, he pulled himself up to his feet and brushed himself off, just as his foreman stepped around the corner, looking at him quizzically.
“I didn’t know you were here.”
“Just came to check out some of the work,” he noted. “Then I got struck with a really ugly headache.”
“Man, you and those headaches lately.”
“I know, right? They’re such a bitch.” He shook his head gently and tried to refocus.
His foreman turned and noted, “Listen. I’m supposed to be meeting a couple guys and dealing with a few things. If it’s all right, can we meet up in what ten minutes or so, maybe fifteen?”