Friction

Nugent checked his wristwatch. “Closer to twenty.”

 

 

Neal looked at the SUV, seeing nothing in the darkly tinted windows except a watery reflection of the courthouse. “Goddammit!” He struck off running toward it.

 

“He couldn’t have gone anywhere,” Nugent called. “I have his key.”

 

Neal jerked open the driver’s door. Lying on the seat was a cell phone, along with the bulbs that belonged in the dome light and the twin map lights on either side of the rearview mirror. Otherwise, the vehicle was empty.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 26

 

 

 

Holly was in bed but not asleep. She answered her phone after the first ring.

 

“You’ve shown a knack for sneaking out,” Crawford said, sounding out of breath. “Think you can you do it again? This time in your car?”

 

“What number is this?”

 

“A burner phone.”

 

“What’s going on? Have you arrested Pat Connor?”

 

“That didn’t go as planned. I need you to pick me up.”

 

“Where are you? Where’s your truck?”

 

“Sitting empty on the courthouse parking lot, and when Neal discovers me missing from it, he’ll go mental, and then he’ll put out an APB, and if I’m apprehended I go to jail. And I can’t go. Not yet. Not tonight. Will you do it?”

 

She tried to process it all as rapidly as he’d related it. “Why would Neal put out an APB on you?”

 

“Connor’s dead.”

 

In clipped cop-speak, he described the murder scene. Amid her murmurs of disbelief, he continued in the same rapid-fire way. “I went there to arrest him, and instead wound up in Nugent’s custody. I went quietly and was willing to go through the first round of questioning. But then I got a phone call.”

 

“From whom?”

 

“I’ll explain that when you get here.”

 

She hesitated, and as though reading her mind, he said, “I wouldn’t ask you to aid and abet, Holly. Timing is everything and, right now, this minute, I haven’t been charged with a crime, and I’m not asking you to commit one. But I need a fair and impartial witness to something I’m about to do, someone with unimpeachable integrity who could later testify as to my motive for doing it.”

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

He said nothing for several seconds, then, “Do you think I killed Connor?”

 

“I know you didn’t.”

 

“Do you think I was behind the courtroom shooting?”

 

“No.”

 

“I’m under the Jackson Street bridge, eastbound side. Ten minutes. If you’re not here by then, I’ll know you aren’t coming.”

 

 

 

As he slid into her passenger seat, he said, “That was twelve minutes. I was getting worried.” He turned to look out the rear window. The wet streets were dark, and no other vehicles were in sight. Which was why a man on foot, walking through the rain, would have attracted attention to any cop on patrol.

 

Besides, it would have taken him too long to cover on foot the distance he had to go. There was no time to waste.

 

She pulled back into the traffic lane. “I don’t know where we’re going.”

 

“Turn around when you can. We’ve got to get on the opposite side of downtown, but keep to the back streets. How did you manage to get away without being followed?”

 

“I drove over ground through my backyard to the driveway of the main house. I went out that way.”

 

“You really do have a knack. The next left will put you on Fair Avenue. Go south. I’ll tell you where to turn.”

 

“An hour ago, I told the police on duty at my house that I was retiring for the night. But if they notice that my car isn’t parked in back, Neal will probably issue an APB for it, too.”

 

“He will, but it won’t do him any good. I switched out your license plates.”

 

She glanced at him with disbelief. “What? When?”

 

“Tuesday night. Actually Sessions did, but I asked him to.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You weren’t taking the need for guards seriously. In case you shook them, I would have your new tag number. The unsub—even if he was a cop—wouldn’t.”

 

“I was never in danger.”

 

“I didn’t know that then. We’d only just discovered that Rodriguez wasn’t the gunman. By the way, he’s been identified.” He recounted everything Nugent had told him. “He was probably in the courthouse to see about getting legal documentation, got nervous about possibly being deported, went up to have a cigarette while rethinking it.”

 

“He wasn’t involved.”

 

“Not until he picked up that pistol.” Crawford would forever regret that young man’s fate, but for now he had to table his sorrow over it. Other matters couldn’t be postponed. “At the second caution light, go left. Stay straight for about a mile.”

 

“How did you get away from Nugent?”

 

“I disabled the interior lights and crawled out the tailgate. I feel bad about tricking him. He’s a decent guy, just not good cop material.”

 

“Why does Neal persist in considering you a suspect?”

 

“You can ask him that when he questions you.”

 

“Do you think he will?”

 

Sandra Brown's books