Dead Man's Hand (42 page)

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Authors: Luke Murphy

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Chapter 4
1

 


Well, that was a fuckin

waste of time!

Watters jammed himself into t
he narrow booth, looking more than a little
uncomfortable.

It was late
on a Sunday night
and
they were at a small diner, having just conclude
d their six-hour shift staking out
Linda Grant.


I agree,

Jimmy said

Althou
gh Linda had been quiet
, Dale didn

t feel the new 24/7 schedule on Linda was a
total waste.

Sure,
nothing happened today. Linda
won

t
yell to the world that she was a part of a master plan to kill he
r husband. But t
he night

s not over yet.


Do you really t
hink, with the buzz she put on at dinner,
she

ll be leaving the house again tonight?

Dale shrugged.

I don

t know.


I

d like to see Rachel soon
,

Watters
said.


We can make that happen. We can


Dale was cut off by the vibration from his cell
phone
, which had a familiar
caller ID
.

It

s the department.

He flipped open the phone.

Dayton.


Detective, it

s Mitch. Linda Grant just received a phone call.


From who?


Unknown.


What do you mean unknown?


The caller used a
voice
distorter
and scrambler,
untraceable.

Dal
e remembered the
911
call on Wednesday
with the same security measures. Whoev
er set up Watters
was calling Linda.


Thanks, Mitch.

He
hung up and
made another call.

Charlie, it

s Dale. Anything?


No.
The limo dropped her off a while ago and left.
Lights are off. G
uess she went to bed.


No—check that she

s really at home. She just got a scrambled call.


What?


Get in there! And keep your cell
phone on so I can track what

s going on.

Through the phone he
could hear movement
and
a car door slam
. He heard the faint sound of heavy panting
and
a knock on a door.

The cop came back on the line.

No answer, Dale
.


Break it down!


Don

t I need

probable cause

to go in?


The suspicious call is enough.

He
heard
t
hem crash through the door and running up stairs,
then
,

S
hit
.

He closed his eyes and
cursed under his breath. He
called the department.

Mitch, it

s me again. We lost Linda
. Please tell me the
GPS
is operational?

He
could hear computer keys clicking over the phone.


It was confirmed that the limo had been parked for the night, but the GPS is indicating that it

s moving again
.

Dale hung up
.

Linda

s on the move.

They threw some cash on the table and sprinted from the diner. Dale jumped in the passenger side.

You drive.

With Watters in the back, Jimmy peeled out of the parking lot while Dale stayed on the line with Mitch,
who was
relaying Linda

s coordinates.


We

re getting closer.


Call for back up,

Jimmy
said
.

With the
cell phone
still pressed to his ear, Dale grabbed the car radio and had dispatch locate four cars to join the tail.
He
gave them the exact location
and
made sure they followed his
direct orders.


She

s stopped, Jimmy.

Dale gave the coordinates.

Pull over here.

Jimmy slowed
the car
and killed the lights.

There

s Duncan and Smith.

Dale saw
two
undercover
cars
parked on a side street. In the rearview
mirror
, he saw two
more cars pull up
.

Everyone

s in position.

Linda

s limo
was parked beside a pump of a deserted roadside gas station. The lights were off inside the
building and the only light
came from
the
low
-
watt bulb of the corner streetlight.


What

s she doing out here?

Watters asked.


I don

t know. But I see a set of headlights.

They watched as an unfamiliar car pulled up beside the limo.

Dale picked up the car radio.

Nancy, I need a plate check.


Go ahead.


Nevada
tag
s—
zero, nine
, six, four, apple, brandy.

He
continued to watch the scene as the dispatch operator located the information.


The car is registered to a Mr. Gene Lockhart.


He

s a pit boss at the
Golden Horseshoe
,

Watters
interrupted.

Dale
eyed
Watters
in the rearview mirror.

You know him?

Watters
nodded.

He

s not a killer, if that

s what you

re thinking.


Sanders
might have asked him to pick up Linda
,

Jimmy
said
.

Dale shook his head.

I don

t think so
.


What are you thinking?

Jimmy asked.


I hadn

t expected Sanders to do anything in his
Ferrari
, known
all over Vegas.
Linda wouldn

t meet a total stranger in a deserted area at night.


You think that
it

s Sanders?

Dale didn

t respond.

The limo door opened and Linda stepped out. She approached the idling 2004 Toyota Corolla, opened the door and climbed inside.

When the passenger door opened, the interior light didn

t go on, but Dale didn

t need confirmation.

She

s going with Sanders.
Let

s move,

he
said into the two-way radio.

The bumper-lock sur
veillance was all they could do
for now.


Keep a safe distance, Jimmy.

Dale spoke into the radio.

Stand down, everyone
and
stay back
. Follow my lead.

 


Whos
e
car?

Linda asked.


A friend

s,

Ace
repl
ied, checking his rearview mirror before pulling o
ut.


Kind of paranoid, having my driver pick me
up two blocks from my house.

Ace ignored her remark.

Your
hit man
failed.

He sneered
.

Where did you find him anyway?

Linda smiled.

I

m not just another pretty face. I have my connections too.

She winked, reached ov
er the middle compartment and slipped her hand in
his
lap
. She fumbled for his zipper and pulled it down.


Are you drunk?


I had a couple of cocktails with dinner.

She slid her hand inside his pants.


Not yet
.

He pulled it out
.

Linda pouted
and folded her arms across her chest.

He
had to
keep his mind clear.
Some overzealous offic
er might
pull him over for something as minor as a broken taillight.
H
e
kept
discreetly checking for a tail in a way that wouldn

t make Linda suspicious of his actions.


Where are we going?

Linda asked.


It

s a surprise. Just sit back and relax. We

ll be there soon.


What

s with you tonight? And what

s with the gloves?

Ace noted the iciness in her voice.
He
didn

t reply. They were nearing the spot and
he
tightened his grip on the wheel. His breath quickened and his heartbeat amplified. The
irony was almost too muc
h
.

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