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My laugh sounded weird even to me.
“Dash?”Bobby asked.“Everything okay?”
“We should have listened to Millie.”
But Millie didn’t even seem to appreciate the acknowledgment; she had received a call, and her phone was pressed to her ear.
“What?”Bobby said.“What are you talking about?”
And then the rest of it clicked into place: the timing.
“We’ve got to get over there before we lose the body.”
“What’s going on?”
“Millie was right,” I said.“We’ve got to gonow.”
“Go where?”
“CPF!Come on!”
But Bobby caught my arm.“Dash, we can’t just go charging in.I don’t know what you figured out, but we need to talk to the sheriff, get a warrant—”
“Paul’s gone.”Millie’s voice cut through Bobby’s words.We looked over at her.She clutched her phone in both hands.“Nobody knows where he is.He’s gone.”
“He figured it out too,” I said.“When you asked him about the card.He figured it out, and he’s going there right now.”
Bobby squeezed my shoulder.“We’ll call the sheriff on the way.Let me grab my gun.”
Chapter 23
When we got to Clatsop Parcel and Freight, the parking lots were empty, and the windows were dark.A solitary box truck, unmarked, was backed up to one of the docks, and the roll-up door that connected into the building was open.
Fortunately, it was just Bobby and me—Bobby had refused to let any of the Last Picks come with us.Millie had argued.Keme had sulked.Fox had demonstrated their switchblade (which was actually a comb).Indira had ignored Bobby and gone to fetch her pistol from the coach house, which was why Bobby and I had practically run out of the house.
(To be totally honest, I had my doubts about how effective Bobby’s orders had been.I half expected the Mystery Machine, aka Fox’s van, to come trundling down the road any minute.)
The sheriff had told us she couldn’t get a warrant with what we’d told her, but she agreed to call the owner of Clatsop Parcel and Freight to see if we could walk through the facility.She had ordered us to, quote,stay in the car and don’t do anything.
Which sounded great.I enjoyed sitting.Iloveddoing nothing.I was a writer, for God’s sake.My bread-and-butter was doing nothing.(Plus Xbox.)
Except for the fact that, about five seconds after we pulled into the parking lot, Paul came around the corner of the building, jumped up onto the loading dock, and went into the warehouse.
Bobby said a word that happy little elves donotsay.At least, not when Santa’s around.
“Maybe he—” I tried.
And then a gunshot cracked the air.
“Call nine-one-one,” Bobby said as he threw open the Pilot’s door.“And stay here.”
It wasn’t a suggestion.There was no mistaking the tone.The killer had a gun, and Bobby was the only one trained to handle this kind of situation.
But as I watched Bobby run toward the building, I couldn’t draw a full breath.
Bobby was alone.He didn’t have anybody to watch his back.
So, I called 911, told Jaklin about the shooting at CPF, and sprinted after Bobby.