He drew in his head and rolled up the window, cursing God and every living thing as he wiped his face on a sleeve.
His heart beat to the heavy rhythm of unfairness, pumping up grievance after grievance until he could barely breathe.
He’d wasted three hours, certain he’d corner Glover.
He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, uncaring for the pain it caused. He needed release. Revenge.
Glover had slipped past him again. He didn’t know what to do next.
As long as Glover was free, he needed to know what the bastard was doing, who he suspected, who he watched.
“Why the fuck couldn’t the police department do their job?” He’d all but drawn them a map with a big X over Glover’s face as the arsonist no one had caught.
Looked like he was going to have to be more graphic. He still had a couple of tricks up his sleeve, like the WeMo in the backseat. That asshole Glover used fingerprint ID on his phone. Once Glover had passed out, he used the bastard’s right thumb to open the phone, set up the WeMo account, and send the suicide note.
He grinned as he remembered his own cleverness. He was still in charge. Hell yeah.
He shoved the car into gear and put his foot on the gas.
As he turned out of the parking lot on Vickery, the hail intensified, filling the rain-drenched streets with a fine layer of ice. Even the grass on the curb was disappearing under the onslaught. Not that he gave a crap about the weather. If Glover wasn’t with Carly, he might be back home by now. Storms put every first responder in the area on high alert. Glover would want to be near his gear.
He switched on his scanner, eager to hear about a fire, any fire.
But first he was going to pay Glover a little visit.
*
Across town four policemen and Inspector Merle Durvan were serving a warrant at the home of Shiloh Glover, also listed as the official residence of Noah Eastland Glover. A crap time for a search, but the law didn’t stand on ceremony when homicide was involved. And they were well within the 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. search time.
After finding no one at home, Merle had waited for an hour, enough time for the weather to turn ugly and his men to be drenched. But he didn’t want a mistake to invalidate a good search and retrieval.
Maybe Glover had driven by and seen them, though they had parked a block away in an unmarked van. If that were so, they couldn’t leave without getting at least part of what they’d come for. It wasn’t often a judge gave authority for a second warrant on the same weekend. But new evidence had come to light, directing them to look in other directions.
After the emergency sirens revved up, Durvan gave the order to enter the premises by any means necessary. They needed to get in and out before all hell broke loose.
Once inside, Durvan was like an old maid aunt, dropping a tarp on the entry floor and directing the other officers to wipe their wet feet before continuing inside. Noah might be about to be disgraced, but his father had earned respect.
“Inventory everything you take. I don’t want any screwups.” Durvan pulled on plastic gloves. “And, for god’s sakes, don’t wreck anything unnecessarily. Glover senior is a retired cop.”
They had what they came for within two minutes. But Durvan took his time writing up the inventory, hoping that the storm would bring Noah home. One of the officers was getting antsy. A tornado had been sited over White Settlement, where he lived. Emergency vehicle sirens of every type could be heard far and near. It was a bad night, for a lot of people. But not as bad as it was going to get for Noah Glover.
In addition to the search warrant itself, Durvan held an order to arrest.
They were ready to leave when Durvan heard a truck pull into the drive. He approached the door with a smile.
Noah walked in as casually as a man can who’s shedding water like he’d been dipped in a stream. His hands were up in the position of surrender. But Durvan had an officer pat him down anyway.
Noah smirked, thinking how much he’d rather still be lying between Carly’s soft thighs. As the man’s hand slid up his inseam, he jerked. “Careful. You owe me dinner over that move.”
Durvan stepped up to him, beefy face tight with anger. “You think this is a joke, Glover?”
Noah met his gaze with a hard stare that spared his old friend nothing. “Not even a little.”
The corner of Durvan’s mustache twitched. “Where have you been?”
Noah lowered his hands and crossed his arms. “You and I both know I’m not going to tell you about that.”
Durvan’s expression hardened. “We’ll see. I’ve got probable cause. You’re under arrest, you son of a bitch.”
*
Cursing his lack of vision, he wiped repeatedly at the fogged-up windshield. Darlene’s crap car didn’t have a working defroster. Giving up, he rolled down the driver’s side window. Wind and rain shoved their way in past his face, but he didn’t notice. A big fat grin spread across his dripping features at the sight unfolding down the block.