lab today, I’ll take it to get new tires. I checked out the treads. I think you can use a new left-front tire, too.”
I rolled my eyes. As the only daughter of Frank Quinn, I was used to all the guys in my life being overprotective pit bulls.
“Fine,” I said.
“And your father wants to know when the last time you changed the oil was.”
“Go ahead and get it changed.”
“Billie, you have to stay on top of routine maintenance.”
“This from a man who takes Lipitor so he can eat a dozen McMuffins each morning. How about a little maintenance on your health?”
“You know I can’t resist the golden arches, Billie.”
“Fine, you big lug, let’s go.”
I climbed into the driver’s seat. Tommy Salami easily weighed two hundred and eighty pounds. Most of it was muscle. He worked out each day, lifting weights, a regime he perfected during the four years he served for breaking and entering, with an assault charge thrown in for good measure. During the Suicide King case, he had been shot protecting me. My father treated him like another son since then, and I was fond of Tommy. But he reminded me of Bo—untrained and a little overgrown.
“I’d rather you let me drive, Billie,” he said, climbing into the passenger seat.
“I know that, Tommy, just as you know there’s no way I’m letting you drive, so let’s resume our little relationship the way it works for us, okay?”
“Okay, but if your father asks, you tell him you let me drive.”
“Fine.”
I pulled out into the road, checking my rearview mirror. I was in full paranoia mode. Seeing I wasn’t being followed, I headed for the Jersey Turnpike and then the lab.
I pulled into the parking garage and found a space on the second story.
“Now you know the drill, Tommy. Only I’m allowed in the lab. So…you can get the tires changed, the oil checked, and you can take a long lunch—I promise I’ll eat at my desk.”
“What time we going home tonight?”
“After work Ben Sato is coming to get me. He’s a detective. We have something to do. You can follow us, and then after that, we’ll go home.”
“What about dinner?”
Tommy liked his three squares.
“I’ll treat. How about that Italian place you like in Paramus?”
“Sounds good to me, Billie. Now you be careful.”
I winked at him as I climbed out of the car. “You, too.”
We locked eyes for a minute. I looked away first, welling up. Not many people will risk their life for you.
I walked out of the garage and into the lab, showing my badge. Lewis was in early, of course—he had beaten me by ten minutes according to the log at the security desk.
“Hey, Lewis,” I popped my head into his office.
“All in one piece?”
I nodded.
“Billie…sit down.”
“Please, no lectures. I know this is dangerous, but I’m so close. I know I am.”
“You’re so close because he’s decided to target you. The publicity from the Justice Foundation has put him over the edge. He hungers for infamy, for immortality. Think of how infamous he would be if he got to you, Billie. Your mother, then you all these years later.”
“I’m going to catch him first.”
Lewis shook his head. “I think you should go into protective custody until we process all the DNA we have related to this and see if we have a match.”
“Who put you up to this?”
“No one.”
“No…that’s not you. Who told you to talk to me? My dad?”
Lewis sighed. “Ben.”
I felt betrayed. “Why?”
“He thinks this guy won’t rest until he’s killed you. And his boldness—the attack in the vestibule out where he could have been seen or caught—means he’s not playing this cold and calculating. He’s taking risks. And that signals trouble. He’s not in control anymore. His demons are controlling him.”
“No protective custody. I came to work with Tommy Salami.”
“And no elaborate ruses to ditch him? You’ll let him guard you?”
I nodded. “I’ll be a good little girl.”
Lewis
I rolled my eyes. As the only daughter of Frank Quinn, I was used to all the guys in my life being overprotective pit bulls.
“Fine,” I said.
“And your father wants to know when the last time you changed the oil was.”
“Go ahead and get it changed.”
“Billie, you have to stay on top of routine maintenance.”
“This from a man who takes Lipitor so he can eat a dozen McMuffins each morning. How about a little maintenance on your health?”
“You know I can’t resist the golden arches, Billie.”
“Fine, you big lug, let’s go.”
I climbed into the driver’s seat. Tommy Salami easily weighed two hundred and eighty pounds. Most of it was muscle. He worked out each day, lifting weights, a regime he perfected during the four years he served for breaking and entering, with an assault charge thrown in for good measure. During the Suicide King case, he had been shot protecting me. My father treated him like another son since then, and I was fond of Tommy. But he reminded me of Bo—untrained and a little overgrown.
“I’d rather you let me drive, Billie,” he said, climbing into the passenger seat.
“I know that, Tommy, just as you know there’s no way I’m letting you drive, so let’s resume our little relationship the way it works for us, okay?”
“Okay, but if your father asks, you tell him you let me drive.”
“Fine.”
I pulled out into the road, checking my rearview mirror. I was in full paranoia mode. Seeing I wasn’t being followed, I headed for the Jersey Turnpike and then the lab.
I pulled into the parking garage and found a space on the second story.
“Now you know the drill, Tommy. Only I’m allowed in the lab. So…you can get the tires changed, the oil checked, and you can take a long lunch—I promise I’ll eat at my desk.”
“What time we going home tonight?”
“After work Ben Sato is coming to get me. He’s a detective. We have something to do. You can follow us, and then after that, we’ll go home.”
“What about dinner?”
Tommy liked his three squares.
“I’ll treat. How about that Italian place you like in Paramus?”
“Sounds good to me, Billie. Now you be careful.”
I winked at him as I climbed out of the car. “You, too.”
We locked eyes for a minute. I looked away first, welling up. Not many people will risk their life for you.
I walked out of the garage and into the lab, showing my badge. Lewis was in early, of course—he had beaten me by ten minutes according to the log at the security desk.
“Hey, Lewis,” I popped my head into his office.
“All in one piece?”
I nodded.
“Billie…sit down.”
“Please, no lectures. I know this is dangerous, but I’m so close. I know I am.”
“You’re so close because he’s decided to target you. The publicity from the Justice Foundation has put him over the edge. He hungers for infamy, for immortality. Think of how infamous he would be if he got to you, Billie. Your mother, then you all these years later.”
“I’m going to catch him first.”
Lewis shook his head. “I think you should go into protective custody until we process all the DNA we have related to this and see if we have a match.”
“Who put you up to this?”
“No one.”
“No…that’s not you. Who told you to talk to me? My dad?”
Lewis sighed. “Ben.”
I felt betrayed. “Why?”
“He thinks this guy won’t rest until he’s killed you. And his boldness—the attack in the vestibule out where he could have been seen or caught—means he’s not playing this cold and calculating. He’s taking risks. And that signals trouble. He’s not in control anymore. His demons are controlling him.”
“No protective custody. I came to work with Tommy Salami.”
“And no elaborate ruses to ditch him? You’ll let him guard you?”
I nodded. “I’ll be a good little girl.”
Lewis
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