Page 102 of Line of Sight

“Alive? Yes. Conscious? Barely. Don’t worry, he won’t remember a thing about it, not that I’m going to let him shuffle off this mortal coil just yet. I want to see you say your goodbyes before I do that.” Anthony’s voice hardened. “But if you don’t do exactly what I say, I’ll change my mind about that. Do you understand? And don’t bother trying to trace the call. I won’t be on long enough for that.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Anthony laughed. “Like I said, this is a game. Gary’s part of it—and so are you. As to why I’m doing this? Because I can.” And with that he hung up.

Dan rested his head on the steering wheel, in the grip of three emotions—stark terror, helplessness, and guilt.

I did this. If he’d never met me, if we weren’t together, none of this would be happening.

Except he didn’t know that, not for certain, and the thought that he might never have met the man who completed him filled him with stomach-churning, cold-sweat-inducing horror.

Then he remembered Travers was waiting. He called the lieutenant back and told him everything.

“He’s going to make me sweat it out.”

“As soon as you hear anything, you call me, okay? I don’t care what time it is. Riley? Stay with him, okay? Don’t leave him alone for a second.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dan couldn’t keep up the effort a moment longer. He ended the call. “I want to go home.”

He was bone-tired, but sleep was the last thing on his mind.

I want him back. Alive.

Anthony King could go fuck himself.

Touch him, andI’llbe the one to end you.

It wasn’t an idle threat.

It was a vow.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Sunday, January 27, 2019

4:50 p.m.

GARY WALKEDtoward his car, smiling to himself at the thought of an evening with Dan. No work, just cuddling on the couch.

Lord knows we both need that.

A smidge of guilt worked its way in there too at the thought of Riley holding the fort, but he pushed it aside.If he needed us, he’d say so.

As he approached his car, he saw a Chrysler Pacifica minivan parked next to it, the side door open. A man crouched by the front wheel on the driver’s side, cursing. On the ground beside him was a portable tire inflator.

The guy let out another curse.

“You having some trouble?” Gary put his bag of groceries on the ground, where it leaned against the wheel. “Can I help?”

The man turned to look at him. “You any good with these contraptions? Because I am shit out of patience.” He had very short dark hair, peppered with gray, and was clean shaven, with dark brown eyes.

There was something familiar about those eyes. Come to think of it, there was something familiar about the encounter.

Gary crouched next to him. He glanced into the minivan and saw a man lying on his side, eyes closed. “Hey, is he okay?”

A gloved hand clamped over Gary’s mouth, and a sharp prick scratched his neck. “Not really. He’s dead. How else do you think I was able to take his van? You know, the same van thattailed you ever since you left your apartment? Except you didn’t notice. Not very observant, are you? Considering you’re a cop.”