Deadeye by William C. Dietz Page A

free, Lee made her way onto the Harbor Freeway headed north.
    There hadn’t been a lot of time to reflect since the meeting with McGinty the day before. As a result, Lee was still trying to absorb what she had learned about Alma Kimble and the role her father might have played in the young woman’s death.
    It was natural to feel affection for one’s father, but the bond between them had been made even stronger by the absence of Lee’s mother. So she had grown up not only loving her father but nearly worshipping him. Now she was starting to wonder how well she knew the man. Was Frank Lee the kind of person who would take a girl away from a friend just because he could? And kill her the way a farmer would dispatch a sick animal? And even if he had, was that wrong? Given the circumstances?
    The answer to all three questions should be an emphatic “no.” So why was she considering the possibility that McGinty was right? Was it because she had always sensed a certain remoteness in her father? Always felt that he was playing a part where she was concerned?
That isn’t fair,
Lee thought to herself.
He worked his butt off to support you—and to put you through college. If he was a bit stiff, if he was a little cold, so what? Get over it. He did the best he could.
    Lee’s thoughts were interrupted as a call came through her headset. “1-William-3.”
    â€œThis is Three.”
    â€œDeputy Chief McGinty would like to meet with you as soon as possible.”
    â€œI’ll be there in ten minutes.”
    â€œCopy.”
    Lee sighed. What did McGinty want? An update most likely. So he could feed the food chain. So she would provide it. Then she would go home and get some sleep. At least six hours’ worth . . .
    After parking the bike, Lee took the elevator up to the sixth floor and arrived at McGinty’s office shortly thereafter. The door was open, and he looked up. “Come in and take a load off. You look tired.”
    â€œI
am
tired,” Lee confessed as she sat down. “I just returned from the Purity Center.”
    McGinty listened as Lee told him about the bodyguards, the fact that she caught them in what appeared to be a minor lie, and the need to keep them under surveillance for a while. She had just finished her report when someone knocked on the door.
    Lee turned to find that a large man was framed in the doorway. The first thing she noticed was the cowboy hat he wore. It was gray, and there were sweat stains around the crown. Not an urban wannabe then . . . The real thing.
    Most of the man’s face was hidden by a stylized spit mask. The rest of his clothing consisted of a white shirt, a bolo tie with a silver slide, faded Levi jacket, matching jeans, and some beat-up boots. McGinty cleared his throat. “This is Deputy Ras Omo. He’s on loan from the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Department. Deputy Omo, this is Detective Lee.”
    Lee stood. A deputy straight out of the red zone! A mutant then . . . That meant the mask was required by law. But what was wrong with him? He looked normal enough. Omo offered his hand and she shook it. “Welcome to LA,” she said. “What brings you out west?”
    McGinty chose to answer for him. “Deputy Omo is here to work on the Screed kidnapping. He’s your new partner.”
    Lee frowned. “You know what happened to Conti. I don’t want a partner.”
    McGinty made a face. “The chief and I don’t give a shit what you want . . . Go home, get some sleep, and come back by tomorrow morning. Then you’re going to go out there and find Amanda Screed. Maybe she’s here in LA. But if they took her into the red zone, you’re going to need a whole lot of help from Deputy Omo here . . . So be nice to him.”
    Lee looked from McGinty to Omo and back again. Then she said, “Yes, sir,” and left the