said, “I’m close. You good?”
“My butt hurts. People are out. Kids are getting home. Everything looks so normal.”
The distance spiraled down, twenty blocks, fifteen, ten.
Pike said, “You can leave now, Carly. I’ve got it.”
“Why? You’re close.”
Beyond stubborn.
Five blocks. Four.
“Gotta hang up. Might be six or seven minutes before I call.”
“I’m fine. Millions of people are passing by.”
Pike passed Isabel’s street, turned on the next, and parked six houses up from Sunset. He waited as two women passed, then climbed out, and collected a lightweight ballistic vest from the rear. Returning to the driver’s seat, he stripped off his sweatshirt, and strapped on the vest. Police officers usually wore Level 2 vests, which were lightweight, comfortable for long shifts in a patrol car, and offered protection from 9mm, .40-caliber, and most common pistol rounds. Pike wore a custom Level 3A vest. Five millimeters thick, and only a pound heavier, multiple layers of a polymer matrix laminate would stop double-aught buckshot, edged blades, 9-millimeter submachine gun bullets, and all handgun ammunition up to and including the .44 magnum. Pike was a strong man, and fit. He didn’t mind the extra weight.
He pulled the sweatshirt over the vest, and clipped the Python to his hip. Pike sipped from a bottle of water. Not much. Three sips. He pictured the house across from Isabel’s house. Two elms in front, a similar porch, enormous green beach ball shrubs huddled at the porch like nursing puppies. The house he pictured was directly behind the house where he’d parked.
Pike stowed the bottle, checked the surrounding homes for eyes, then climbed out, and walked up the yard to the side of the house. He paused at a wooden gate, heard nothing beyond, and let himself through. He moved silently along the length of the house, and across a backyard cluttered with gnomes, bird feeders, ragged lawn furniture, and empty planting beds to a rotting wood fence at the rear. Another quick pause to check, then quietly over. Pike reached the side of the next house easily, and slipped between windows and shrubs to the front and finally into the voluminous green shrubs massed by the porch.
He crept forward on his belly until he found the right spot.
Isabel’s house was across the street, and directly ahead.
He had a clear view of her house.
Carly’s Beetle was in the drive. Carly sat on the porch with her feet on the steps, and a Starbucks cup beside her. She held her phone.
Pike eased his phone from his pocket, and tapped out a message.
do not look up.
eyes on your phone.
i’m here.
Carly raised her phone when it chimed with the incoming text. She seemed to stiffen, and did not move for several seconds, but she did not look up. After a few seconds, she tapped a response.
Where are you?
Pike answered.
close. do not look up.
do not try to find me.
He sent the message, and saw her frown. She tapped at the screen.
OKAY!!! I’M NOT!! CAN’T YOU CALL??
Pike tapped again.
no.
is there an outside porch light?
He waited, and watched her answer.
Yes, sir.
More tapping.
turn off the inside lights
turn on the porch light
lock the house
leave
do not return until you hear from me.
Pike watched as she read, holding the phone like a difficult book. She held it for a very long time before she answered.
Are they here, too?
Pike cut and pasted his answer.
turn off the inside lights
turn on the porch light
lock the house
leave
do not return until you hear from me.
Then he added.
please.
She laughed. He saw her laugh from across the street, then she stood, and went inside. The sun was still high, but beginning to dim. The day was dying to darkness. Carly was still inside when he received another text.
Are they coming back?
Pike gave the answer.
not until you leave.
Pike thought she might fire off another text, but she did not. She locked the front door, and went to her car. She did not sneak peeks at the surrounding houses, or try to find him. She climbed into her car, backed out the drive, and left.
Pike settled into the earth beneath the branches and leaves, and felt himself fade into the soil and the shadows. After a few minutes, he lifted his phone, and called Elvis Cole.
Cole’s voice mail answered.
Pike whispered, “Call.”
Pike watched Isabel’s house, and let his thoughts drift.
This one time, during his contractor days, Pike and his guys were hired to shut down a poaching outfit in southern Africa, a gang of battle-scarred, ex-insurgency lunatics who would roll on an elephant herd, pound them with heavy weapons, and