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killing people. He'd quit the group and refused to go back, and all he'd wanted that day was to get cigarettes for Tommy. So he'd gone back for them, and when he returned to that same spot, a mile from home, he saw the smoke. He dropped the cigarettes and he ran because it didn't matter if he couldn't see where that smoke came from. He knew. He just knew.

"Jack?"

"Yeah." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay. You're right. But I gotta let her know. Gotta figure out a way--"

"I'll tell her."

He shook his head. "Can't use her phone--"

"I have a plan."

9 - Nadia

"I'm going home," I told Diaz as I met up with him in the parking lot.

"What?"

"My caretaker called. There's a power-supply problem at the lodge and if we don't get it fixed by Thursday--when we're fully booked with a corporate retreat--we're screwed."

"Okay . . ." he said slowly. He was at his car, talking over it, his hands on the roof where I could see them.

"I wanted to help," I said. "I still do, and if I can, I'll come back, but really, you guys can handle this. You have actual investigators. I'm just an ex-cop who never even made detective."

"But you're good. Damned good. We could really use--"

"I can't, and I feel like shit about that. But my real-life job comes first. I understand that's an inconvenience, me coming here and then cutting out on you . . ."

He shook his head. "I'm glad you came, and of course I wish you could stay, but you're right about the lodge. It's important for all our agents--and potential recruits--to have an outside life." He stepped back. "Can I give you a lift to the airport?"

"I have my rental," I said, pointing at it.

"I know. But I'm guessing you're flying out of DC and traffic's a bitch this time of day. With two of us, we can take the commuter lane. I can have the rental agency pick up your car."

I shook my head. "I'll be fine, thanks."

"Let me write down some alternate directions for you. Back roads. They'll take you a bit out of the way, but at this time of day, it'll be worth it. I'd suggest not booking a flight until you're there, to be safe. They run frequently enough that you'll have no problem getting one."

I thanked him as he wrote out directions. Then headed for my car. As I was getting in, Diaz called to me, "Wait! That gun I lent you--"

I shut the door, fired up the car and, with a friendly wave--pretending I couldn't understand what he was mouthing--I drove from the lot.

Diaz was tailing me. I couldn't see him, but I knew he was there. Because the chances he'd sent me on these back roads to the airport just to be helpful? About zero.

I was now on a truly back road--a dirt one. It was empty, which at least made it tough to tail. As I drove down a dip, I spotted a car in the distance behind me, its running lights off. It looked gray or silver, nearly invisible in the daylight. Diaz's car had been dark. Was he behind that one? Or had he switched vehicles?

My work phone rang. I grabbed it so fast I nearly dropped it.

"Hello?" I said. Please, Jack. Please be--

"Where the hell are you?" Evelyn said.

Damn it. "This really isn't the time, Evelyn. Can I call you--?"

"Everyone's so busy today. A woman tries to be helpful, and that's all she hears. I don't know why I bother."

"Because if we're busy, it probably means we're doing something interesting, and you're bored. Like those nosy old ladies who sit on the front porch and yell at the neighborhood kids."

"I wouldn't yell at them. I'd shoot them."


Tags: Kelley Armstrong Nadia Stafford Mystery