She looked more closely at the object he’d brought. It definitely was her wallet. How had she lost it?
Then she remembered. They’d made a mess of the bedding and knocked her purse to the floor. It must’ve fallen out.
Shit! If she’d dropped anything else, she would’ve told him to keep it. She didn’t want to speak to him right now, didn’t want to let him know she’d been crying. But her wallet contained all her money and credit cards, as well as her driver’s license. She had to get it back, and the sooner the better.
Great way to top off the evening, Jane.
Lowering the window, she kept her face averted while he handed it to her. “Thank you,” she said, but she knew her voice sounded far too polite. She added a “Sorry” that only made it worse as she began to roll the window back up. She wanted to get out of the lot before he noticed her tears. But a quick glance showed his stricken expression: it was already too late.
She wondered if she should try to explain. She would’ve tried, but she wasn’t sure she could. He hadn’t done anything wrong. These were her issues, issues she’d been dealing with for years. He couldn’t take the blame for that. Anyway, she had no business crying. At least she was alive. At least she had Kate. That was enough. Plenty of other victims weren’t so lucky. She should be grateful, not wallowing in self-pity because she didn’t know how to act like a normal human being anymore.
Determined to put this behind her, to forge ahead as she’d done since Oliver’s death, she shifted into reverse. Forget and move on. That was the name of the game. Don’t look back. Those who did never escaped.
“Jane, wait a minute! I’m sorry,” he called after her, but she didn’t stop. She backed out of the parking space and drove away.
Malcolm had given Marcie and Latisha some sleeping pills so he wouldn’t have to hear from them tonight. It was a relief to know they’d be out for a good twelve hours, that they wouldn’t wake and start scheming against him. Maybe kidnapping had taken the thrill of wielding his badge to greater heights-they’d done most everything he told them to with a “Yes, sir”-but he should’ve let them go after scaring them senseless. That was what he usually did. Playing cop made for an enjoyable evening. He could order people around, act like the Big Man, and no one ever questioned him. The prostitutes on Franklin Boulevard were especially impressed when he told them he was undercover, so impressed they often gave him whatever he wanted for free. Officer Boss. Hearing people call him that cracked Malcolm up, which was why he’d chosen the name.
But he’d taken things too far with Marcie and Latisha. Now that he’d have to kill them, it was no longer a game.
After lowering the volume on the TV, Malcolm dialed the cell phone number he’d kept in his wallet. It rang once before he got a recording: “Please enjoy the music while your party is reached.”
A country song came on.
Trying to quell his impatience, Malcolm tapped the arm of the couch. He’d have some answers soon, he told himself. It was the middle of the night. Pam Wartle had to be home.
But Pam didn’t pick up. From “You Look Good in My Shirt” he was transferred to voice mail.
With a curse, he hung up and dialed again. Not only was it late, it was during the work week and she had a family as well as a regular nine-to-five job. Where the hell was she?
Finally he heard a sleepy voice. “Hello?”
He tried to gauge whether he had the right person. It was definitely a female-but was it Pam or her daughter?
“Hello?”
Malcolm let his breath go. It was Pam. “Hey.”
He could sense the tension in her breathing, even though she spoke only two words. “Hang on.”
“Pam?”
Silence.
“Pam!”
At last she responded, but this time her voice was soft and low and he assumed she was hiding in a closet or a bathroom-somewhere her husband wouldn’t be able to hear her. “This had better not be who I think it is,” she hissed.
“If you’re having an illicit affair, it’s not your lover. Does that help?”
“No! What the hell are you doing calling me? You swore you’d never contact me again!”
He straightened his uniform. He rarely wore it out of the house-regular clothes and a Kojak light worked better since he no longer had a cop car-but he’d wanted to wear it tonight. It gave him a chance to relive the good times he’d had in the past, reminded him of the power he’d once legitimately held. “Calm down. I blocked my number.”
“That’s not enough!” she snapped. “I have a husband, kids. I don’t want to be forced to explain to them why Mommy’s getting phone calls in the middle of the night!”
“Tell them it’s job-related. They’ll believe you.”
“Forensic technicians don’t have job-related calls after midnight. That only happens in the movies.”
Even on low, the noise from the television was irritating. Malcolm muted it. “Take it easy. I’ll make this quick. I have a question.”
“What could you possibly want from me? We concluded our business over a year ago.”
“I need to know what’s been going on since I left.”
“What do you think? Nothing! It went down just the way we planned it. If something had gone wrong, you wouldn’t be walking around a free man.”
“I’m free for now, but I can’t be sure it will last. I have no idea whether or not I should be looking over my shoulder.”
“And I’m supposed to care?” she snarled.
“I can’t help wondering what’s happening back home.”
“As you can tell, I don’t give a shit. I’ve got to go. Don’t ever call me again.”
“Wait! Just one more question.”
There was another long silence, but he didn’t hear a click, so he spoke up. “Have you heard of a man named Sebastian Costas?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Her response surprised him. “No. Why would I be kidding?”
“Anyone remotely associated with you has heard of Sebastian Costas.”
He gripped the phone tighter. “He’s contacted you?”
“He’s contacted anyone and everyone who’s ever known you. When you got me into this, you didn’t tell me I’d have him on my ass every step of the way.”
Malcolm didn’t react to the accusation in that statement. He was too preoccupied with what her words signified. “He’s looking for me, then.” He’d been afraid of this. Sebastian had been a thorn in his side from day one…