Page 24

Chapter Twenty-Three

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Follow Me Quietly

“Oh shit,” I breathed. “He’s supposed to be dead. Are you sure?”

“Positive. Do I call the police?” Dot’s voice was thin and strained, her eyes still locked on the screen.

“They probably won’t believe us,” I said, my mind racing. “We should call Grace first anyway.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. I’ll call her right now. She’ll know what to do. Won’t she?” As Dot picked up her phone and dialed with shaking hands, I wondered if Grace already knew. She’d left so abruptly, rushing back to check on her mom…I suddenly remembered the fear in the woman’s eyes as she hissed, “He was here!” Could she have been right after all?

“Yeah, she’ll know how to handle it. When was this?” I asked, trying to read the tiny numbers at the bottom of the footage.

“Forty-five minutes ago,” Dot said, a tremor in her voice. “Why would he come here? I don’t understand.”

“He seems to be going everywhere that has a connection to Gunnar,” I said. “Especially the places where he left victims.”

“But what does he want?”

“What’s wrong?” BJ asked from the doorway.

“Nothing,” we said in unison.

“Stay on the desk,” Dot ordered. “And don’t fall asleep!”

“You guys suck,” BJ grumbled as he left the room.

“Gotta be honest, toots,” Dot said, her voice still quavery. “I think we better call the cops, too.”

“Let’s just see what Grace says.” While I was no fan of the cops, Dot was right. I had a pretty good idea how Grace would respond to that, though.

“She isn’t picking up.”

BJ poked his head back inside.

“What now?” Dot snapped.

“Thought you’d want to know the guy in number five is leaving.”

“What?” Dot gasped. We exchanged a look and then rushed to the door. Through the window overlooking the parking lot, I saw a guy in a parka climbing into a battered sedan.

“Oh no!” Dot wailed. “What do we do?”

“We follow him.” The words left my mouth before I even knew what I was saying.

Dot gaped at me. “Really?”

“We have to. We can’t let him get away,” I said decisively. There really was no other option. For all we knew, he was on his way to kill another girl. And I wasn’t about to let that happen. “Try Grace again.”

Dot hesitated. “I think I’m too shook up to drive right now.”

“I can drive,” I said. “C’mon, let’s hurry.”

———

“Where on earth is he going?” Dot asked.

“I don’t know.” We’d been following the sedan for a few minutes. Gregory Grimes was a surprisingly sedate driver, going well below the speed limit, to the point that cars passed him, honking angrily. Granted, he’d been in prison for a couple decades, so maybe his driving skills were rusty. The downside for us was that this did not make him easy to follow. “What’s up this way?”

“Not much,” Dot said. “Maybe he wants to check out the Neon Museum. Or he’s leaving town.”

A small part of me actually hoped for that. Maybe Gregory “Gruesome” Grimes had decided he’d had enough of Sin City. Would it be so bad if he became someone else’s problem? That someone being Grace, obviously. I suspected that she’d actually be thrilled to have a family member to chase again. Repressing a twinge of guilt at the thought, I said, “Is she still not picking up?”

Dot shook her head. “Nothing yet.”

“Text her,” I said.

“I already did,” Dot said, throwing up her hand. “I’ve texted ‘911’ three times now!”

“It’s Grace, so it helps to be more specific,” I said. “Text ‘We’re following your dad, answer the damn phone.’?”

“Worth a try, I s’pose,” Dot said.

Three cars ahead of us, Gregory Grimes put on his turn signal.

“Oh no,” Dot said.

“What?”

“That’s the parking garage for the Fremont Street Experience,” Dot said. “It’ll be packed at this hour!”

“So lots of potential victims.”

Dot nodded. “Plenty. And tons of ways in and out. It’ll be hard to keep track of him.”

Dot’s phone rang. As she picked up and put it on speaker, I called out, “About time!”

“You’re certain it’s Father?” Grace asked, sounding surprisingly calm.

“Yeah. Dot recognized him right away.”

“I must have watched his Dateline special five times,” Dot said. “He looks exactly the same, just a bit more gray in his hair.”

A pause, then Grace said flatly, “I suspected he’d survived once I read about the murders in Colorado and Arizona.”

I couldn’t read her tone; did she want condolences or congratulations? “Listen, we’re right behind him,” I said, edging toward the barrier gate. Grimes was a car ahead of us. I shivered as he reached out the driver’s side window for the parking ticket. He grabbed it, the arm raised, and he pulled ahead. “We’re in the Fremont Street Experience parking garage.”

“You should not have followed him,” Grace said disapprovingly.

“Too late,” I said. “We already did. So grab a cattle prod, and get your ass over here.”

“I’m just getting Mother settled.”

“She okay?”

“I moved her somewhere safe as a precaution, so yes, she’s fine for the moment. Frankly, I’m more concerned about you. Father is extraordinarily dangerous. Do not approach him under any circumstances.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” I said. “Just trying to keep him from grabbing another victim.”

“Grace, should we call the police?” Dot’s voice was bordering on hysteria.

“Every news outlet has announced that my father is dead, so I doubt they’d believe you. It would probably be treated as a crank call. It’s best if I handle this.” I heard a door close in the background and then she continued, “I will be there in ten minutes. Please be careful.”

“You know me,” I said, “ Careful is my middle name.”

Grace scoffed audibly. Ahead of us, Grimes turned into a parking spot. I exchanged a glance with Dot. Her color was high, her eyes wider than normal. Still, she nodded at me. I eased into a spot on the opposite side of the aisle and turned off the car. I watched in the rearview mirror as Grimes headed toward the stairwell.

“You should stay in the car,” I said. “I got this.”

“That’s okay, kiddo,” Dot said. “It’s gonna be packed in there, so it’ll be hard to keep an eye on him. And he might just be dumping the car. Best if both of us go.”

“You sure?” I asked doubtfully.

Dot nodded. “A hundred percent. And I’ll reach out to see if there’s anyone nearby who can help.”

“Great.” The stairwell door closed behind Grimes. If we didn’t hurry, we might lose him. Still, I was finding it hard to get out of the car. It was like I was suddenly planted in the leather seat, unable to move.

Dot reached over and squeezed my arm reassuringly. “We got this,” she said. “Right?”

“Right,” I agreed. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and forced myself to climb out.

———

Dot wasn’t kidding; the place was absolutely packed with drunk tourists. As we exited the stairwell, I gaped at our surroundings. The Fremont Street Experience was a long corridor that extended in both directions. The storefronts lining it were a blur of blazing neon lights and towering screens that rivaled Times Square. Although we were technically outside, an arched roof overhead functioned as a giant digital screen. “Good thing I’m not a seizure risk,” I said, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the glare.

“Yeah, it’s something else,” Dot agreed. “Goes on for blocks and is attached to a bunch of casinos, so keeping tabs on him is gonna be tricky.”

“There he is,” I said in a low voice, gesturing with my head.

I felt a little frisson of fear as Grimes turned sideways and bent to examine something in a shop window. He was still wearing the parka and ball cap, brim pulled low. He didn’t look all that threatening. Passing him on the street, I wouldn’t have given him a second glance.

“How do you want to do this?” Dot asked anxiously.

I shifted to see his reflection in the window we were facing. “Stick together. Try not to look at him, okay? Like, not at all. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“And if we lose him?”

“We split up. But Grace will be here soon to take over.” I was already texting an update on our location to Grace, although I was sure that she’d find us regardless; I swear she’d implanted a tracker or something on me.

“Okay.” Dot was wringing her hands and looked every bit as stressed as I felt. To reassure her I said, “Listen, it’s going to be fine. I doubt he’ll do anything here, it’s too public. We just need to keep him in sight, yeah?”

“Yes. Okay.” Dot’s phone pinged, and she checked it. “Oh good, a few of the Femmes are coming to help.”

“Great,” I said, secretly wondering if a bunch of overeager amateur sleuths might do more harm than good. But too late. And maybe the more eyeballs we had on this asshole, the better.

Dot suddenly squeaked and clutched my arm, staring past my shoulder.

“What?” I asked, swiveling to see what had her so spooked.

Gregory Grimes stood mere inches away, grinning widely as he said, “Well, hello.”