Page 86

Two words:

Stop Him.

“What the hell?” She looked up at Lucia, who handed her one more thing. A newspaper clipping.

“It was in the envelope,” she said.

Third Victim Found Dead, Killer Still At Large. Black-and-white newsprint photos of three children, two girls and a boy, all smiling eagerly for the camera, their lives ahead of them.

“Oh, God,” Jazz murmured. She looked down at Borden, whose eyes were at least partly comprehending now. “James—”

“I know,” he mumbled. “I’m good. Go.”

Lucia grabbed her by the collar and dragged her upright, pushed her into a stumbling run, heading farther down the block. Jazz tried to stop, to turn back, but Lucia shoved her again.

“The car’s back that way!” Jazz yelled, just as a huge black SUV roared around the corner, taking it on two wheels, and squealed to a stop next to them. Jazz fumbled for her gun, but Lucia lunged for the passenger door.

“In!” she screamed, and clambered up. Jazz, breathless, followed.

As she slammed the door, the SUV took off with a sudden jerk, and she nearly slid off the bench seat before she could brace herself with the panic strap over the door.

Manny Glickman was driving.Manny.

“What the hell…?”

“Bulletproof glass,” Manny said, and reached out to tap a knuckle against the thick surface of the side window. “Reinforced steel. The ride’s custom, but I think the President has one like it.”

“Manny!”

“What?” He looked honestly puzzled, staring over at Jazz. She just blinked, unable to think of a single thing to say.

Lucia, ever practical, unfolded the paper and read off the address. Manny reached over and pushed a recessed spot on the wood-grained dash; a section of it glided out, revealing a keyboard and a small plasma screen. “Put it in,” he said. “We have GPS navigation.”

Even Lucia paused at that, then nodded and began typing. The SUV felt smooth and comfortable, after the initial jerk; Jazz let herself relax a little. Enough to gulp in some air-conditioned breaths, and say, “‘Thank you for not hating me?’ Jesus, Manny, is that really the best you could do?”

The GPS navigator’s smooth female voice said, “Right turn at the next traffic signal.”

“Well,” Manny said, and glanced down at his speed, “I figure having a woman not actually hate me is a pretty big accomplishment. All things considered.”

He whipped the wheel. The SUV raced around the corner, straightened out, and smoothly avoided two lumbering trucks, a taxi, and two sedans before the navigator read off another turn.

Lucia had her eyes on the clock. “We’re not going to make.it in time,” she said. “Dammit. Why didn’t we know about this? Why didn’t Simms tell you?”

“I don’t know,” Jazz admitted. “Maybe he thought we already knew.”

Lucia cursed under her breath, a steady stream of Spanish. The computer recited another fast set of directions. Jazz clung to the panic strap, swallowing, glad that they’d left Borden behind; she couldn’t imagine this kind of thrashing around could be good for a head injury. It wasn’t doing much for her sense of claustrophobic panic, either.

“Where’s Pansy?” she asked. Lucia checked the directions on the paper against what was appearing on screen, then tossed the paper aside and pulled the gun from its holster behind her back.

“Distracting the cops,” Lucia said. “Did you know she has a cousin in uniform? His name is Ryan. Kind of cute. We’re almost there. You good to go? No broken bones?”

Jazz nodded. “I’m fine.”

Lucia shot her a distrustful look. Jazz supposed, on balance, her croaky, damaged voice wasn’t exactly the traditional definition offine.

Manny made the final turn onto a suburban street and cut his speed to something less than enough to break the sound barrier.

“There!” Lucia yelled, and pointed. A car was just pulling away from the curb ahead, an electric blue boat of a car with black-and-yellow plates. It was the same car. Jazz remembered it, remembered seeing it accelerate down a street just like this one, the day they’d done the surveillance on the woman loading boxes.