Dead Man's Hand (35 page)

“
Is that the man after us?
”
She pointed at the screen.

He
nodded.

Calvin zoomed in on the suspect. The man wore pants and a long shirt, with no distinguishing features visible. Calvin back
-
tracked the footage and watched the thirty
-
second clip from the beginning.

From what he
’
d seen, his opponent was skilled in tactics and an expert in pursuit, surveillance and evasion.
Calvin knew s
uch skills were acquired in the elite military, specifically the Marines or maybe Special Forces.

Add that in with the
bomb skills and the tracking ability
and
Calvin came to a scary conclusion.
This guy was trained by the best.
Calvin could use that particular training against him.
Time for some very serious, highest-level hacking.

He
hacked a
military database
,
but
after the second layer of protection,
he
was shut out
.

He
had a hunch. He called Mike and asked him to hack the Marine Sniper School records. Then he emailed Mike the photos from the surveillance cameras taken today.

Less than t
wo hours later
Calvin received an e
-
mail from Mike. The
attached
document was a full file on the killer
. A
high-ranking NCO
sniper gone bad named
Baxter
had been charged with a mob hit, but not convicted.
That was who was after him. Now Calvin and Rachel were pinned down for sure. Baxter would have his rifle and scop
e on the building within hours.

Mike wrote t
w
o words in the body of the email.
“
Fuck me.
”

At midnight,
Ace
was still at the
Golden Horseshoe
office
, a rare event
, but he
was going nuts. His perfect plan was showing signs of weakness.
The assassin wasn
’
t late calling in, but
Ace
was on edge all the same.

At his last check-in, Scott
said he
had found Watters and
that
the job would be done without delay
. But that was four hours ag
o and
Ace
’
s
sources at the police
hadn
’
t heard anything.

The phone rang.

“
You better have some good news.
”

“
Afraid not, boss.
”

The
hit man
told
him
he had played cat and mouse with Watters for a half
-
hour.
Ace
listened, his head thr
obbing harder, as his
overpai
d
hit man
recounted
his failed attempt.

He
had had enough. These failures had gone on too lon
g. But before he could tell Scott
that, the
hit man
said,
“
I have an idea.
”

“
Forget it. I
’
m pulling
you off.
I
’
ll find someone else
, someone more reliable
.
You will never work in this country again.
”

“
No
, don
’
t. Now
I know where Watters is and I
’
ve
scoped the area.
”

“
How did you find him,
”
Ace demanded to know.

“
One of Watters
’
clients held a grudge. After his run-in with Watters, he
’
d followed the collector for days until he
’
d found the location.
”

Ace nodded.

“
Tomorrow
is the end
. A
nd
you
’
d need a day at least to bring someone
new
in. So
what do you have to lose?
”

Everything, Ace thought. He
didn
’
t like it
,
but
the assassin was ri
ght. He needed
Watters eliminated
now
.

“
Call when it
’
s done
.
”

Chapter 3
5

It was early Saturday
morning and Dale sat at his desk.

His group was busy living and breathing the investigation, reviewing crime scene photos, witness interviews, 911 calls
and
forensic, ballistic and post
-
mortem reports. This case had everyone on edge. The longer it went unsolved, the more challenging it would be to find the real killer or killers. Dale was still not sure if the killers were working together in some way, but it was a very real possibility, given that one killer had killed Watters
’
boss and another or the same one was trying to kill Watters.

His head ached from frustration and his eyes burned from fa
tigue.
He knew that basically they still had nothing solid. He hadn
’
t expected that after the three perfect murders, there
’
d be one more and that the second killer had also left no evidence at all.

Feeling desperate, h
e pulled
the
most powerful
magnifying glass
out of a drawer
and used it to study the pictures from th
e four
murders
.

Watters had some answers. But
he was still not located af
ter three days of searching.

Jimmy,
who was
usually upbeat, looked grim. He
ambled
across the room and slumped down in a seat.
L
oosen
ing
his tie
,
he
removed his outer jacket
,
unfastened his shoulder holster and flung it over the back of the chair.

Dale put away the magnifying glass and dropped the crime scene photos, grabbing the folder titled,
“
Grant, Dou
g
las
—
Crime Scene Analysis Report.
”
He read
through the information
one more time
and threw the folder down, papers scattering onto the floor. He spun around in his seat and faced the bull
etin board
beside his desk.

Brought in
for the Grant case, photographs of suspects, evidence, crime scenes and theories had been stapled
across the board
. With the addition of one new murder, the papers had grown and overlapped each other.

Four perfect murders. So far.
That was the hope that Dale clung too—that they were only temporarily perfect and that at some point they
’
d find something that would actually start cracking one or more of the cases and make them less than perfect.

Paperwork was a part of the investigation that most cops hated. But everyone knew that many investigations had been cracked by one tiny, overlook
ed detail.

“
Where would
you find a bomb expert, Jimmy?
”

“
Military, or a police bomb squad.
”

Dale stared at the board
, though by now he had almost memorized it
.
“
What do you think?
”

His partner dropped his paperwork and sighed.
“
I have nothing.
”

“
Hey, Tommy!
”
Dale yelled.
“
Who
’
d you talk to in New Orleans?
”

The man rummaged through his desk before answering.
“
Detective Hopkins.
”

“
You got a number?
”

The cop scurried over and handed Dale a crumpled piece of paper with scribbled handwriting.

Dale
made
the call,
ho
ping
the
New
Orleans detective k
ept the same pathetic hours he
did. He
made his request and was transferred to the homicide department.

“
Detective Hopkins
.
”
A hoarse
voice
, all business,
came on the phone.

“
T
his is Detective Dale Dayton of the Las Vegas
Metropolitan
Police Department.
”

“
Ah, I was just going to call you.
”

“
Do you have something for me?
”

“
That
’
s the thing. After your officer
’
s call, we went down to the docks and dusted the entire booth, inside and out. The phone booth had been wiped down and cleaned by a professional. We couldn
’
t pull one print from the site.
”

Dale wasn
’
t surprised
.

The New Orleans detective
continued.
“
We kept a camera on for two da
ys
—
no connection to anyone you named.
”

Dale
shook his head.
“
Thank you, Detective
.
”

He leaned back in
the
chair and stared at the papers on
the
desk. Was there anything among this collection that would
indicate
a path to follow?

Another file was thrown on his desk
, this time by an LVMPD intern
.
“
Detective, we
got an
ID
on
the prostitute from Pitt
’
s office. Carey Reynolds, nineteen years
old
,
from Bay City, Texas. Guess her picture on the news caught a tip. We
’
re doing a background, but so far nothing in her past suggests she was the intended target.
”

Dale nodded.
“
I didn
’
t think she was.
”

Calvin sat in silence, reviewing eve
ry feed
. There was nothing he co
uld see that
might a
ffect him, but somewhere Baxter was
staking out the house
and
preparing his next move.

Baxter
would set up a snip
er site
beyond
the range of Calvin
’
s monitors.

Calvin
h
ad left his fortress
once
when
he
’
d spotted
the assassin
.
He and Rachel weren
’
t leaving again. A
Kevlar vest was no protection against a head
shot.
What the killer didn
’
t know, though, was that Calvin could outwait him. H
e and Rachel could live without fear, if not in comfort
, for a couple of month
s with their supplies
. The killer could
n
’
t risk
exposure and arrest
that long.

At some point, even two months from now, Calvin would have to emerge or have no life at all
.
O
nce
Calvin
did, he would put himself and Rachel in double jeopardy. The police were still searching for him as the primary suspect in Grant
’
s and perhaps Pitt
’
s murder. And if the cops didn
’
t get
Calvin
first, he
’
d always know that the killer would pick up the hunt again
until the bastard finally succeeded in killing him.
.

Did Calvin
really want to live looking over his shoulder?

He
was in the most challenging, problematic and deadliest position of his life and he had no plan yet. Somehow, he was going to have to figure out a way to end this impasse safely. Capture the killer without leaving the workshop and risking their lives, or
be
arrest
ed
by the cops. It seemed impossible, but he had the confidence of experience. Except for the prideful mistake that had permanently damaged his knee,
he
knew that it was at times like this
,
when the stakes and challenges were the greatest
,
that he was capable of fully focusing.

Before, it had been only about him. Now he had to protect the
only woman he had ever loved since his mother
and that increased the complexity of the situation enormously. He could never again leave Rachel alone as he had when pursuing the killer. Right now, it was a siege and a stalemate and the clock was ticking.

He left the computer room
and went to
the most secure part of the safe house, where they
kept
the cots and air mattresses. Rachel was sleeping.
He watched her dream and breath
e
,
deep and slow. A little tremor and cry left her at one point. Calvin thought it was more than a bad dream. He had to focus and finish a plan.

Two
hours later, Calvin
sat up
. H
e needed to do some final prep, but otherwise
he was ready t
o act
and
not alone. The
irony of
whom he
’
d chosen as a
partner made him chuckle
. It was his
only choice.

He dialed.
It took over two minutes for his call to be transferred. He waited patiently, knowing that this call was probably causing all sorts of chaos.

“
Detective Dayton.
”

“
I
’
m Calvin Watters. I
’
m sure you have your technical people trying to trace this call. Don
’
t waste your time or theirs. My phone is untraceable.
”

He h
ear
d
fingers snapping in the
background.
Dayton
would continue trying a
trace, because
Calvin knew
he had
no
reason to believe
him
.

“
If you are who you say you are, then you know how hard we
’
re looking for you. Why should I believe you?
”

He
told
Dayton
,
in exact detail,
the Pitt crime scene
and gave details about what he earned as a leg
breaker. It was
much more than he
needed to say to prove his identity
and
enough to show
the e
xtent to which he would
cooperate.

When he
finished, Dayton replied
.
“
I believe you are Calvin Wat
ters. So why are you calling me?
I doubt
you
are
ready
to turn yourself in.
”

“
Should I?
”
Calvin asked
with a smile.

“
If you
’
re innocent, yes.
”

“
Do you think I am?
”

“
Mr. Watters, you have no reason
to believe me, but I
’
m the only person in this
department who thinks you are.
”

That wasn
’
t the res
ponse he
expected
.
His intelligence and
years of bill collecting had made him almost a human lie d
etector.
Dayton
’
s tone and words sounded like the sincere truth.
“
How can I know that
’
s really what you think?
”