“They want us real bad,” Rachael said. “That’s what I’ve tried to tell
you. They want us so very bad.”
The Caddy was two blocks behind now, and within five or six more turns,
Ben would lose them because they wouldn’t have him in sight and wouldn’t
know which way he had gone.
Hearing a tremor in his voice that surprised him, a quavering note that
he didn’t like, he said, “But, damn it, they never really had much of a
chance of catching us.
Not with us in this little beauty and them in a lumbering Caddy. They
had to see that. They had to. One chance in a hundred. At best. One
chance in a hundred, but they still wasted the cops.
He half wheeled and half slid around another turn, onto a new street.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” Sarah said softly, frantically, drawing
down in the seat as far as the safety harness would allow, crossing her
arms over her breasts as she had done in the shower stall when she had
been naked.
Behind Ben, sounding as shaky as he did, Rachael said, “They probably
figured the police had gotten our license number-and theirs, toand were
about to call them in for identification.”
The Cadillac headlights turned the corner far back, losing ground more
rapidly now. Ben took another turn and sped along another dark and
slumbering street, past older houses that had gotten a bit seedy and no
longer measured up to the Chamber of Commerce’s fantasy image of Palm
Springs.
“But you’ve implied that the guys in the Caddy would get their hands on
you even quicker if you went to the police.”
Yes.”
“So why wouldn’t they want the police to nab us?”
Rachael said, “It’s true that in police custody I’d be even easier to
nail. I’d have no chance at all. But killing me then will be a lot
messier, more public. The people in that Cadillac . . . and their
associates . . . would prefer to keep this private if they can, even if
that means they’ll need more time to get their hands on me.
Before the Cadillac headlights could appear again, Ben executed yet
another turn. In a minute he would finally slip away from their
pursuers for good. He said, “What the hell do they want from you?”
“Two things. For one.. . a secret they think I have.”
“But you don’t have it?”
“No.”
“What’s the second thing?”
“Another secret that I do know. I share it with them.
They already know it, and they want to stop me from telling anyone
else.”
“What is it?”
“If I told you, they’d have as much reason to kill you as me.
“I think they already want my butt,” Ben said. “I’m in too deep
already. So tell me.”
“Keep your mind on your driving,” she said.
“Tell me.”
“Not now. You’ve got to concentrate on getting away from them.”
“Don’t worry about that, and don’t try to use it as an excuse to clam up
on me, damn it. We’re already out of the woods. One more turn, and
we’ll have lost them for good.”
The right front tire blew out.
It was a long night for Julio and Reese.
By 12,32, the last of the garbage in the dumpster had been inspected,
but Ernestina Hernandez’ s blue shoe had not been found.
Once the trash had been searched and the corpse had been moved to the
morgue, most detectives would have decided to go home to get some
shut-eye and start fresh the next day-but not Lieutenant Julio Verdad.
He was aware the trail was freshest in the twenty-four hours after the
discovery of the body. Furthermore, for at least a day following
assignment to a new case, he had difficulty sleeping, for then he was
especially troubled by a sense of the horror of murder.
Besides, this time, he had a special obligation to the victim. For
reasons which might have seemed inadequate to others but which were
compelling to him, he felt a deep commitment to Ernestina. Bringing her
killer to justice was not just his job but a point of honor with Julio.