Lawyer Trap

68





DAY TEN–SEPTEMBER 14

WEDNESDAY NIGHT


Davica Holland, it turned out, lived in a filthy-rich house on a filthy-rich street in a filthy-rich neighborhood southwest of Denver. Draven drove past her place after dark and studied it through windshield wipers that were doing their best to beat back an incredibly heavy rain. A white Toyota Tundra pickup sat in the bend of a long, circular cobblestone driveway in front of the house, half hidden behind a water feature. It almost appeared as if two people were inside it, although he couldn’t be sure.

The shadows moved.

Someone was definitely inside.

He made only one pass and then got the hell out of there.

He knew the type of place.

Security cameras galore.

And not just on this house, but all of ’em.

One thing for sure—he’d have to snatch the woman from some place other than her house, unless there was a way to get in from the back, through a field or something. That was a question he could better answer tomorrow by the light of day. Either way, she’d be tricky to get.

Maybe he should hit Swofford up for an additional twenty-five on account of the complications.

Yeah.

That’d be worth a try.

He unscrewed the flask, took a hit of Jack, and then headed back home to Gretchen.

She was asleep on the couch when he got there, and the sight made him warm inside. He sat down gently, without waking her, and ran his fingers through her hair. After a while, he moved her up until she was nestled under his arm, and then sat there in the dark and listened to the rain pound on the house.

If everything was going according to plan, the tattoo woman—Mia Avila—was in the process of dying right about now. Tomorrow Draven would do the cleanup and bring that phase of events to an end.

Then he’d be able to concentrate all of his attention on the new victim.

Davica Holland.

After that, he’d take Gretchen to Malibu.