LEE CHILD. KILLING FLOOR

Roscoe was at her desk, talking on the phone. She waved. Looked excited. Held her hand up to tell me to wait. I watched the door to the rosewood office. Hoped Teale wouldn’t come out before she finished her call.

He came out just as she hung up. He was all red in the face. Looked mad. Started stamping around the squad room, banging his heavy stick on the floor. Glaring up at the big empty bulletin board. Finlay stuck his head out of the office and nodded me in. I shrugged at Roscoe and went to see what Finlay had to say.

`What was that all about?’ I asked him.

He laughed.

`I was winding him up,’ he said. `He asked what we’d been doing, looking at a car. I said we weren’t. Said we’d told Baker we weren’t going far, but he’d misheard it as we’re looking at a car.’

`Take care, Finlay,’ I said. `They’re killing people. This is a big deal.’

He shrugged.

`It’s driving me crazy,’ he said. `Got to have some fun, right?’

He’d survived twenty years in Boston. He might survive this.

`What’s happening with Picard?’ I asked him. `You heard from him?’

`Nothing,’ he said. `Just standing by.’

`No possibility he might have put a couple of guys on surveillance?’ I said.

Finlay shook his head. Looked definite about it.

`No way,’ he said. `Not without telling me first. Why?’ –

‘There’s a couple of guys watching this place,’ I said. `Got here about ten minutes ago. Plain brown sedan. They were at Hubble’s yesterday and around town this morning, asking after me.’

He shook his head again.

`They’re not Picard’s,’ he said. `He’d have told me.’

Roscoe came in and shut the door. Held it shut with her hand like Teale might try to burst in after her.

`I called Detroit,’ she said. `It was a Pontiac. Delivered four months ago. Big fleet order for a rental company. DMV is tracing the registration. I told them to get back to Picard up in Atlanta. The rental people might be able to give him the story about where it was rented. We might be getting somewhere.’

I felt I was getting closer to Joe. Like I was hearing a faint echo.

`Great,’ I said to her. `Good work, Roscoe. I’m out of here. Meet you back here at six. You two

stick close together, OK? Watch your backs.’

`Where are you going?’ Finlay said.

`I’m going for a drive in the country,’ I said.

I left them there in the office and walked back to the entrance. Pushed the door open and stepped outside. Scanned north up the road. The plain sedan was still there, seventy-five yards away. The two guys were still in it. Still watching. I walked over to the Bentley. Unlocked the door and got in. Nosed out of the parking lot and pulled out onto the county road. Wide and slow. Drove slowly past the two guys and carried on north. In the mirror I saw the plain sedan start up. Saw it pull out and turn in the road. It accelerated north and fell in behind me. Like I was towing it on a long invisible rope. I slowed, it slowed. I sped up, it sped up. Like a game.

EIGHTEEN

I drove past Eno’s diner and rolled on north away from town. The plain sedan followed. Forty yards back. No attempt to hide. The two guys just cruised behind me. Gazing forward. I swung west on the road to Warburton. Slowed to a cruise. The plain sedan followed. Still forty yards back. We cruised west. We were the only things moving in that vast landscape. I could see the two guys in the mirror. Gazing at me. They were spotlit by the low afternoon sun. The low, brassy light made them vivid. Young guys, Hispanic, loud shirts, black hair, very neat, very similar. Their car sat steadily in my wake.

I cruised seven or eight miles. I was looking for a place. There were bumpy earth tracks off to the left and right, every half-mile or so. They led into the fields. Looped around aimlessly. I didn’t know what they were for. Maybe they led to gathering points where farmers parked machinery for the harvest. Whenever that was. I was looking for a particular track I’d seen before. It led around

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