Page 22 of Cole: Bloodlines

“Uh, yeah.”

“Are you from New York?”

“Yes.”

The memory of last night suddenly flooded in.

“What was my husband wearing tonight?”

“What? I don’t know—clothes. I was more concerned with his condition than what he was wearing. Why?”

“You had to have noticed something. You dealt with him up close, right? Helped him to the back room to lie down. You didn’t even notice what color of shirt he wore, or what kind of shirt it was?”

“Look, why are you giving me the third degree? I didn’t have to call you. I could’ve thrown his ass out and let him fend for himself.”

Gabe’s heartbeat pounded in his temples, climbing into his head as images tumbled into his mind, one after another.

“Who the fuck are you? Is Cole even here?”

“You’re too smart for your own good. You should’ve played along, and everything would’ve gone smoothly.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you?”

“I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“Where the fuck is Cole?”

“I don’t know… probably home by now.”

“What…?”

“I’m tired of your questions. It’s time to finish this.”

“Finish what—”

His hand crept to the bandaged wound beneath the smock shirt. His eyes shifted to the deputy through the dark interior as the man looked ahead.It was him... the motherfucker.

Byrne saw his passenger holding his wound. A smile of satisfaction began to form, but he forced it back, replacing it with a look of sympathy. “Are you in pain?”

Gabe withdrew his hand and glanced out the front windshield. “I’m fine,” he mumbled. “I’ve been in worse shape.”

Not as bad as what you’re going to be here real soon, I guarantee you.

Clearing his throat, Gabe said, “Maybe we should try to take out the psycho ourselves.”

“What?”

“He’s just one man. If he isn’t expecting us to act, we could get the upper hand.”

“Seems a bit suicidal to me,” Byrne said. “He’s a serial killer. One false move, and your insides might be on the outside.”

“What do I have to lose?” Gabe muttered. “He’s going to torture and kill me anyway. At least, this way, I’d have a fighting chance.” He glanced at Byrne. “I’ll do it myself, but I’ll need a weapon—gun, knife, anything.”

Byrne looked ahead as if considering the idea. He nodded. “You’re right. He is going to kill you.” He shook his head. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

“Do you have an extra weapon?” Gabe asked. “Something I can conceal?”

“Just my sidearm and I’ll need that.”