Death Angel

Sitting in the pickup truck, he used his laptop to tiptoe through the wireless records again, starting with the largest company-and there she was. In the efficient way of cell phone service providers, she’d immediately been entered into the system.

Now she had to deal with the bank’s paperwork, which meant she either had to come to the bank in person, or she’d already established a relationship with someone at the bank who would be willing to bring the paperwork to her. Because this was Drea, he was betting on the latter.

A bank employee wouldn’t leave the bank by the front door; they all exited through the employee entrance at the side. He parked where he could keep an eye on that entrance; anyone who left, at any time other than closing, would be his number one prospect.

He watched patiently. At four-thirty, the front doors were locked. Okay, this wasn’t going to be easy, but he’d have been disappointed if it was. He’d have to visually sort through the bank employees as they left, and follow the most likely.

Not a man, he decided immediately. Drea didn’t trust men, with good reason. She was contemptuous of the ones she could play, and distrustful of the ones she couldn’t. Eliminating men from his list wasn’t much help, because most bank employees were women.

His most likely suspect would be a middle-aged woman, he thought; someone with experience, someone who would be in a position with some authority. An older woman would be more likely to feel protective of someone Drea’s age. She would also be carrying papers, either in her hand or in a briefcase or large tote bag. With his parameters in place, he waited, and he watched.

He spotted her immediately. For one thing, she left promptly at five, which suggested she had a purpose. That purpose might be nothing more than cooking supper, but she carried a file folder in her hand. Bless her heart, he thought with mild amusement. She was willing to help, but she was completely out of her element. How much more obvious could she be?

She got into a beige Chrysler. He hated beige cars; they didn’t stand out. At least the traffic here was light.

The big question was, where was she going? Grissom was limited in its public choices. Maybe she’d arranged to meet Drea at her own home, which could make things dicey as far as following her went.

He didn’t immediately pull into the street, but instead let another bank employee get between him and the Chrysler. He hung back, not wanting to spook her, though he thought there was little chance of that.

She drove two blocks, and at the second corner turned right, into the parking lot of a dollar store. Simon didn’t touch his brakes, didn’t look directly at the Chrysler as he cruised by, but with his peripheral vision he studied the parking lot looking for cars with someone sitting in them. Would Drea get in the Chrysler, or would the bank lady go to her? He bet on the bank lady being the one to leave the cover of her car; Drea was too smart to parade around in public when she suspected someone was looking for her.

In his rearview mirror, he saw the bank lady get out of her car, pause, then begin walking purposefully across the parking lot.

"Bingo," he said softly. "Your ass is mine, sweetheart."

Chapter Fourteen

A CHILL RAN DOWN DREA’S SPINE AND SHE WHIPPED HER head around, looking in all directions. A sense of imminent danger seized her, making her want to put the car in gear and floorboard the accelerator. She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but her lizard brain was screaming Run! and she actually trembled from the effort it took to remain where she was. He wasn’t here. She knew he wasn’t. Just five more minutes, and everything would be set. She could leave. She could go to Denver and soon have her two million in cash, and then she could disappear so thoroughly even he would never be able to find her.

She had checked out the parking lot when she arrived fifteen minutes ago, even though there was no way he or anyone could have known where she was meeting Mrs. Pearson. The only vehicle with anyone sitting in it was a battered, four-door Chevy. The motor was running, to keep the air-conditioning going in the ninety-degree heat. Sitting in the front passenger seat was an older woman, her face lined with years and fatigue; a whining toddler was imprisoned in a car seat in the back. No threat there, unless the kid escaped.

She recognized Mrs. Pearson as the older woman pulled into the parking lot, then she immediately switched her attention to the passing traffic. Right behind Mrs. Pearson was a red sedan, driven by a woman, then a guy in a pickup truck. Drea stared at the guy, but she couldn’t get a good look at him because of the sun’s reflection on the window. She could tell he was wearing a ball cap, though, and he was focused on his driving because he didn’t turn his head to look in Mrs. Pearson’s direction.

Both the red sedan and the pickup disappeared down the street. As Mrs. Pearson, file folder in hand, hurried across the parking lot toward her, Drea anxiously watched the street behind her, wondering what had given her the willies. Another car, this one also driven by a woman, went by just as Mrs. Pearson reached for the door handle.

Drea quickly hit the unlock button, and Mrs. Pearson got in. As soon as she slammed the door, Drea locked the doors again. Every car had a blind spot, and she didn’t want anyone slipping up behind her, then getting into the back seat and putting a gun to her head.

"Have you seen him?" Mrs. Pearson asked, her head swiveling as she looked all around them.

"No, not yet." But he was around. She knew he was. The tingle in her spine, the lizard sense of danger, warned her he was near.

She was more vulnerable now than she’d been yesterday, or even this morning, and she knew it. By getting Internet service she’d put her name in the system, verified her presence in the vicinity. She’d been caught on the security cameras at the cell phone store, so she had to assume her changed appearance was no longer a secret.