“Oh, no. You can pay the bill. I’m just saying you didn’t have to.”
They’d reached the car. He shielded her as she slid into the passenger’s seat. He walked around to the driver’s side, stepped in and revved the engine.
They moved onto Sunset with no incident.
*
It had all seemed so simple at first.
He’d really believed that he was just making the only move possible for the future to fall in as it should. For his future to fall in as it should, really.
He’d never imagined how much he would like it.
The planning. Seeing such a plan executed. It was exhilarating. It was beyond exhilarating.
He began to wonder how it would feel to wield the weapon of death himself. Would he love it? Seeing the light go out of someone’s eyes, watching the person cling to the hope of life...and know that no matter how one begged or prayed, it was too late.
Life was over.
And yet, being the orchestrator of it all—without a speck of blood on his hands—was an amazing feeling, as well. Such a high. And for now...
He’d been so close. She might have seen him. Marnie might have noticed him. But what if she had? There was nothing odd in the least about him meeting a friend for lunch on Sunset. She’d never suspect that the “friend” he was meeting for lunch was the very Blood-bone who had killed Cara Barton.
It was rich. So rich.
He wished that she had seen him. “You know,” the Blood-bone killer told him, “it was one thing pulling it all off at the comic con. Risky, yes, and daring. But the difference was no one was expecting something like that. It was easy for me just to disappear through the crowd. No one expected a Blood-bone to be escaping. No one thought it was real until I was pretty much gone. But now it’s all changed. Last night... Well, that was a little hairy for me. I could have been caught. Her macho friend was watching the house. That guy she’s with... I’ve heard about him. I mean, half of Hollywood knows who the guy is because he had famous actor parents. He’s been in the service—he was deployed three times. He’s a crack shot. He’s taken just about every kind of martial arts training there is. He was a SEAL, for God’s sake. The stakes have changed.”
“You’re telling me that you’re out? You...coward!”
“I’m not a coward. I’m smart. I can’t kill her. I tried. I was nearly caught. You need to get someone else on this.”
He felt fury boiling up inside him. Horrible fury, like the rush of volcanic lava racing through his veins, tearing him up.
He was the orchestrator.
The great orchestrator.
And now this pawn...this stinking wretched pawn...
“Be happy with what you’ve got,” the Blood-bone killer said.
He leaned against the table, pointing a finger at his “friend.”
“You fucked up,” he said flatly.
“Doesn’t matter. Whatever. I’m out. Find someone else. You’ll get your money back. I am a professional, and while I’m pretty sure I did damned amazingly well, if—in your mind—I fucked up, you get your money back.”
“Not in my mind. In fact.”
“Fine. But I’m out.”
The lava racing through him threatened to cause him to melt, to drip in a pile of molten fire to the floor, to explode, implode...
His orchestration was going to hell.
Then again, he had wondered...
Yes, he’d wondered what it would feel like. To wield a weapon himself. Not just to order the taking of life, but to take it himself.
He’d never imagined the rush of orchestration.
Maybe it was better—seeing the light go out of living eyes. Seeing the panic and the fear. The denial. And then, inevitably, the death.
He forced himself to lean back. To nod. He didn’t want to look at all happy with the situation; in fact, he had a right to be pissed.
“Yeah,” he said coldly. “I’ll need the money back. I’ll need it to get the job done. Right, this time.”
*
They’d left Bridget at a beautiful place in Toluca Lake. It was the home and training-and-care facility of Sophie’s friend, retired police lieutenant Jack Snell.
He had almost two acres of land; it was hard to imagine the value of his property. Snell was a tall, bald, sixtyish man composed of lean muscle. Bridget and he had obviously gotten on famously. They were chatting and laughing when Bryan and Marnie arrived, seated on a handsomely tiled front porch with a hundred-pound shepherd mix seated between them in front of a bag of dog paraphernalia.
“Come meet George! We’re going to adopt him, okay?” Bridget called out.
“George!” Marnie echoed.
Bryan thought he’d never quite figure out how amazing dogs were; as soon as Marnie said the name, “George” stood, barked once in greeting and ran to her, wagging his tail.
Marnie set her hand on the animal’s head as they walked on up the path to the porch, joining the two seated there.
“He’s a good boy, Miss Davante. He has a little limp—he took a bullet in a drug bust. But he’s as loyal and good as they come. And he’s already taken to your Miss Bridget here and, obviously, you.”
Jack Snell was on his feet, shaking hands with Bryan. “Heard all about you and everything that’s going on, of course,” he said. “From Sophie. Love her. Amazing little woman, super cop. Anyway, George is yours.”
“Oh, George can’t just be ours, sir,” Marnie said. “Let us contribute something to help look after the other dogs, this place...”
Her voice trailed. They all knew what property in Toluca Lake cost.
“Sophie told me the story. He’s a gift. And as for this place, well... Once upon a time, I arrested a girl. She was high, and I brought her in for possession of cocaine. She kind of haunted me, though. And I checked up on her and got her into a rehab and... Sorry, I was trying to make a long story short. Anyway, that girl is my wife of forty years now, and she just happened to be a peanut heiress. So go figure. Here I live, and here we work with our injured service dogs. So, there you go.”
“What a beautiful story,” Marnie told him.
“Yeah, go figure,” Snell said with a grin. “So, take George, love him, squeeze him—all that. He’ll watch out for you!”
They thanked him.
Bryan still kept Marnie by his side as they headed to the car. There didn’t seem to be anyone near them, but he wasn’t taking chances.
A big shepherd mix—a guard dog—was great.
But a dog couldn’t anticipate a sniper’s bullet.
Bridget slid into the back of the car and patted the seat. George looked from her to Marnie and whined.
Marnie laughed. “Aw, he is a good dog! He doesn’t know which of us to watch. We’ll make it easy—I’ll hop in the back. It will be a bit crowded, but that’s okay.” She looked over at Bryan as he placed the bag of pet supplies in the trunk. “If that’s all right?”
He nodded. “We’ll all just keep our eyes open,” he said.
“Keep our eyes open,” Bridget said. “That’s so cool. You know, I rode with a patrolman friend one day. He told me about keeping my eyes open. To look for what was strange. Like cars following other cars too closely—or relentlessly. If you’re driving, you have to watch out for someone trying to be neck and neck, as well. That’s how gangsters shoot other gangsters.”
“If you’re trying to take dead aim at someone, yes, you definitely have to watch out for someone trying to line up to take aim. And you’re watching for cars that stick to you like glue. I don’t, however, think that someone is going to take a potshot at us. Thing is, you just never know.”
“Right. This killer was hands-on. Blood everywhere,” Bridget said.
“Bridget,” Marnie moaned.
“But the guy in the yard had a gun. And he shot at you, Bryan,” Bridget said. “And he threw the lawn chair, breaking the window.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “So, you never know. This guy doesn’t want to get caught, though. Last night...it was dark. The streets were quiet. And he was taken by surprise. He had no idea someone was watching the house. He didn’t expect a chase. I don’t think—”
“He didn’t intend to shoot Marnie. He wanted to kill her much more brutally!”