'You know who I am?'
'No.'
'You wanna know?'
'No.'
Pretty amazing that my voice was staying steady, because my heart was racing, and I had a cramp in my large intestine.
`I'll tell you anyway' he said. I'm your worst nightmare. I'm
Junkman. And I'm not just gonna kill you... I'm gonna eat you alive. You can take that as a literal promise.'
His voice was deep, the inflection serious. No smile in his voice, but I knew he was getting off on the moment. I'd run into his type before. He fed off fear, and he was hoping to see fear in my face. I was looking into his mirrored lenses, my face reflecting back at me.
I decided my face wasn't showing much. That was good. I was learning from the men in my life.
'Why do you want to kill me?' I asked.
'For fun. And you can think about it for a while because I gotta cut the balls off a cop before I let myself enjoy you.'
There was more to it than fun, I thought. He wasn't a lad. He probably got the muscle and the attitude in prison. He was brought in by the Slayers, and I thought Connie was right, Junkman wanted something from these killings besides satisfying his blood lust. Not to trivialize the blood lust. I was guessing Junkman liked to kill.
Probably emasculated his victims for a show of power over the enemy, and I was betting he also liked the blood on his hands.
He gave me some kind of gang sign language and stepped back from the truck. 'Make the most of your last hours on earth, bitch,' he said.
A black Hummer came out of nowhere and pulled up beside me. Junkman got in, and the Hummer disappeared down the street. No chance to get the plate.
I sat perfectly still and rigid until I could no longer see the
Hummer taillights. The instant the lights vanished from my field of vision, all my bravado vanished as well. Tears poured out of my eyes, and it was painful to swallow. I didn
't want to die. I had more doughnuts to eat. I had nieces to spoil. If I died, poor Rex would be orphaned. And Morelli. Don't even go there, I thought. I didn't know what to think about Morelli, but I wished I'd told him I loved him. I'd never said it out loud. I'm not sure why not. Just never felt right, I guess. And I always thought I'd have lots of time. Morelli had been a part of my life since I was a kid. It was hard to imagine a life without him, but sometimes it was equally hard to imagine his role in my future. I couldn't get past two months of cohabitation with him without going nutty. Probably not a good sign.
I had a dilemma now. My eyes were leaking, and my nose was running. I was trying real hard not to progress to openmouthed sobbing. Stop it! I told myself. Get a grip. Easier said than done. I was feeling vulnerable and incompetent. The vulnerable and incompetent Stephanie wanted to run to Morelli. The stubborn
Stephanie hated to give in. And the halfway intelligent Stephanie knew it would be a bad thing to leave Ranger's truck sitting in front of Morelli's house. Junkman would recognize it if he rode by, and
Morelli's house would be a target for God knows what.
I took the path of mindless action. I stepped on the gas, and I let the truck take me someplace. Of course, it took me to Ranger's building. I parked in my usual spot, two blocks from the garage entrance. I reached under the seat and helped myself to Ranger's gun. It was a semiautomatic. I was pretty sure it was loaded. To say
I wasn't a gun person was a gross understatement. I wasn't sure I knew how to fire the gun, but I figured I might be able to scare someone with it.
I retreated into my hooded sweatshirt, locked the truck, and walked head down in the rain to the garage. Minutes later I was in
Ranger's apartment with the door bolted behind me. I left the gun and the truck keys on the sideboard. I ditched the sweatshirt, hat, and Kevlar vest. I removed my wet shoes and socks. My jeans were soaked from the knee down, but I'd lived with them like that for the entire day, and I could endure a few minutes more. I'd stopped whimpering, and I was starving.
I stuck my head into Ranger's refrigerator and pulled out one of his low-fat plain yogurts. No way was I going to die with a roll of fat hanging over my waistband.
I scraped the last smidgen of yogurt from the cup and looked at
Rex. Turn,' I said. 'I'm stuffed.'
Rex was running on his wheel and didn't bother to respond. Rex was a little slow. He didn't always see the humor in sarcasm.
'Probably I should call Morelli,' I said to Rex. 'What do you think?'