the girl was dead, and now his chest felt like razor blades. He would never float off again.
“I hope he tries something,” said the cop with the rifle. “I’d love to put a .45 right between the fucker’s eyes. That’s what you get for pulling this shit in Texas.”
“Yep,” agreed the other cop. “A .45 to the forehead would do it. Or we could just feed him one of your wife’s brownies.”
“Don’t you be assaulting my wife.”
“She delivered the first blow. I think I spent the whole evening on the can. Eventually I just asked Dorleen to bring me my pillow.”
“If my wife’s brownies were so rotten, how come you ate half the container?”
“’Cause the container tasted better than the brownies!”
“At least my wife bakes. Dorleen wouldn’t know a stuffed ham if it sat on her lap and said hello.”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you sit on her lap and we’ll find out?”
“Gentlemen,” chimed in Norm over the radio, “as amusing as your discussion is, try to keep it off channel. Okay?”
“Sorry, boss,” the cops replied.
Norm and the boys in the van had a good chuckle. It helped lighten the mood. Because their man was now twenty-five minutes late for the meet, and that was far from good.
“Should we go?” Lilly asked Tom.
“No.”
“I think we should go.”
“It’s not up to you.”
“I’m the one behind the wheel. What’s to stop me from turning the key, gunning the gas, and heading off into the sunset?”
“Well, for one,” replied Tom, flexing his shoulder, “the sun set four hours ago.”
“Bite me.”
“Ms. Toro, we’ve got seven sharpshooters trained on your location. You move this vehicle even an inch and you’re going to need to get a new set of tires.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m threatening your car.”
“Why do you need me here, anyway? I called him. I set everything up. He pulls into the garage and you take him down. Why do you need me here?”
“Verisimilitude, Ms. Toro.”
Nine twenty-five became 9:30. Tom began to feel uneasy. Tardiness was one thing, but thirty minutes?
“I wasn’t really going to drive off. I’m not a coward.”
Tom glanced up at her. “I never said you were.”
She opened her window and lit up a cigarette.
“That’s why I wanted to write this story, you know. I know I come across as a Grade-A bitch but I admire what you do. You bring down the bad guys. We take you for granted.”
“We’re not in it for the accolades, Ms. Toro.”
“Modesty gets you a modest-sized office and lets you live a modest-sized life. You bring down the bad guys. Tell me that doesn’t tickle your ego just a little.”
“Is this an interview?”
“How else are we going to pass the time? The guy’s always late.”
A warning bell sounded in Tom’s head. “He is?”
“Man, you’re the ones who had all that surveillance on me. Don’t you people talk to each other?”
“How late is he usually?”
“Like forty-five minutes. Really pisses me off, but what can you do, right? Rule number one—don’t alienate your scumbag informant. Anyway, that’s why God invented menthols…”
Lilly said a few more things, but Tom was no longer listening. His mind whirred. Forty-five minutes late? Galileo was a control freak. If he was late, it was by choice. If he was late, it was because…
It was because he used the time to scope the vicinity.
But from where?
Every building in a two-mile radius had been quietly emptied of all personnel, including custodial staff. Every rooftop was occupied by at least one police officer, and everyone had checked in.
Damn it.
They’d spooked him. He’d gone to wherever he usually went, and had either seen the evacuation or a uniform on a roof. He wasn’t going to show.
So where was he going to go? The Rangers had set up roadblocks at all points in and out of the city. He may not have been trapped in the parking garage, but he was still trapped in Amarillo. Where was he going to go?
And why had he killed Darcy Parr? The two men posted outside the hospital room were much better witnesses than she. They’d actually seen him, in his faux beard, with his cell phone. If he was concerned about identification, he would have gone after them. But he went after her. Yes, their encounter at Walmart was a coincidence, but wasn’t it a tremendous risk for a control freak like him to kill in such an uncontrolled environment? Couldn’t he have at least waited until the parking lot?
No, he couldn’t have waited. Esme had said it herself. He