want to keep breathing, I pay.”
“Got a name?”
Scrubbing his hand over his face, Raphael grimaced. Sighing heavily, he said, “I don’t know his whole name. He goes by Solten.”
Kyle shot another glance toward Alex and nodded. Finally, the fuckin’ loose ends are coming together.
Kyle and Alex had interviewed Roger Solten after Jon Ying mentioned his contact. They’d run a check on him that came back clean. At the time, they just wanted to verify that Hope City Linen and Uniform Service did own the truck that Mr. Ying had reported stolen. Confirming that, they’d had no other contact with him.
Now, pulling into the HC Linen building visitor parking, Kyle looked through the windshield at the warehouse-sized brick building. It was near the end of the business day, and employees were starting to leave through the main front doors. Not wanting to miss him, they hustled toward the front.
Moving to the reception desk, Alex smiled at the woman sitting on the stool, tapping on her cell phone. Her gaze lifted to Alex, then dropped to her phone before doing a quick double-take back up to him, her smile widening.
“We need to speak to Roger Solten.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen him today. Hang on,” she replied, turning to a computer screen on the counter. With a few taps of her fingers on the keyboard, she shook her head slowly. “No, he’s not in. In fact, he hasn’t been in for two days.”
Alex offered a chin lift and they turned to leave.
“Normally you could catch him after work at Hopkins Gym, down on Twenty-First Street.” She shrugged and flashed a mega-watt smile. “I could show you if you want.” She leaned her forearms on the counter, bending forward, creating the planned effect of pushing her breasts together, cleavage now showing at the neckline of her T-shirt. “I like to go and… work out, if you know what I mean.”
Alex placed his hands on his hips, pulling his jacket open just enough to show the badge clipped to his belt. “Thanks, but I think we’ve got it.”
Her gaze had dropped to his badge then back to his face as her mouth fell open.
Walking back out to the truck, Kyle chuckled. “You like doing that shit, don’t you?”
“Not a lot of perks in this job, but sometimes it’s nice to either get someone talking or get ‘em to shut up by just looking at the badge.”
They checked the gym and went by his apartment but didn’t find him. By then, their shift was over and Kyle dropped Alex off at the precinct parking lot. “We’ll pick this back up tomorrow morning. Have a good evening.”
Alex waved as he climbed into his SUV and Kyle headed home. He had received a text earlier from Kimberly letting him know that she was fixing dinner. Pushing aside thoughts of work, he grinned. He’d eat whatever she fixed, knowing it would be good, but he was especially hoping she had whipped cream for dessert.
Dressed all in dark clothing, a man slipped to the back door of the rowhouse and unscrewed the lightbulb by the door. Sliding back into the shadows, he waited for several minutes to make sure that a nosy neighbor had not seen and called the cops. The neighborhood remained quiet except for a few cars occasionally going down the street, a dog barking in the distance, and crunching near the garbage cans, indicating the possibility of mice, if not rats.
Using a crowbar, he popped open the back door and quickly moved into the house. The clock on the stove gave slight illumination to the kitchen and he walked silently into the living room and rounded the bottom of the staircase. Taking each step carefully, glad there was no squeak, he made it to what he thought was the top. Miscalculating, he stumbled on the last step, grabbing the banister to keep from falling. Heart pounding, he stayed rooted to the spot, barely breathing, listening for any movement. Not hearing a sound other than a slight snore, he continued toward the master bedroom.
He would’ve flipped on the light switch if necessary, knowing the brightness would temporarily blind his prey, but with curtains only partially closed over the window, moonlight and streetlight illuminated the lump in the bed. Pulling out his weapon, he stepped closer. Just then, the floor groaned slightly with his weight, and the sleeping owner roused.
Startled, he fired without taking proper aim. A cry from underneath the covers met his ears and he fired again