Cold Shot to the Heart (28 page)

“Who's there?” she said.

“Sorry I can't stay on the line. Maybe you can try me later in the week?”

Voices in the background, muffled.

“Police?” she said.

“Yes, that's right. Thursday or Friday would be best.”

Close by him, an unfriendly voice said, “Who is that?”

“Thanks,” she told him and ended the call.

She took the cell apart in her lap. It was no good now. The number would be in Rathka's phone. She snapped the circuit board in half, tossed the pieces out the window.

They'd worked fast. Talked to the realty office in Connecticut, came up with the name Roberta Summersfield, backtracked to Rathka and the apartment. So the name was no good anymore. If they looked into it, they'd hit a dead end, but it might only whet their interest, keep them looking. Her life here was done.

She watched the front of the bank, wondering if they'd gotten that far, if there were police inside. She'd have to take the chance. She got out the ring of safe deposit keys.

Ten minutes later, she walked out of the bank with ten thousand dollars in banded fifties, a .32 automatic, and a U.S. passport and New Jersey driver's license in the name of Linda Hendryx. She drove around to two more Manhattan banks and did the same. When she was done, she had thirty-five thousand in cash. She put it in the suitcase with the rest of the money.

It took forever to get through the Lincoln Tunnel. She watched the rearview the entire time, waiting to see police lights. When the traffic finally broke up on the other side, she followed signs to the New Jersey Turnpike, headed south.

She'd drive as long as she could stay awake, get as far from the city as possible. Maybe west then, cross-country to the Coast, somewhere warm, or back up to Pennsylvania eventually, see if Charlie Glass could put together some work, get her going again. Money for Maddie, money for Wayne.

Eventually she'd call Rathka from somewhere far away, find out how much damage had been done, where things stood in Texas. Somehow she'd figure it all out, make it work.

It was growing dark, the sky clear. Stars were coming out, flickers of cold and distant light. Nothing behind her now. Nothing but night ahead. But she had a name, a suitcase full of cash, a car, and a gun.

It was a start.

ALSO BY WALLACE STROBY

Gone 'til November

The Heartbreak Lounge

The Barbed-Wire Kiss

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

COLD SHOT TO THE HEART
. Copyright © 2011 by Wallace Stroby. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.minotaurbooks.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Stroby, Wallace.

Cold shot to the heart / Wallace Stroby.—1st ed.

    p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-312-56025-6

1.  Female offenders—Fiction.   2.  Card games—Fiction.   3.  Ex-convicts—Fiction.   I.  Title.

    PS3619.T755C65 2011

    813'.6—dc22

2010037538

First Edition: January 2011

eISBN 978-1-4299-8969-5

First Minotaur Books eBook Edition: January 2011