Mission road - By Rick Riordan Page 0,52
slapped her. It surprised her more than it hurt, but she saw a flash of yellow. Her mouth stung.
“Stop it!” She used the same tone she’d used on her boyfriend whenever he got out of hand. “Take me back—right now.”
“You don’t give orders,” he said. “You don’t even look at me.”
He grabbed her by her hair and opened his car door.
The next thing she knew, she was being dragged outside, the grass scratching her legs. She kicked helplessly at the gravel. Her scream sounded thin in the night air—no one around to hear it. He threw her down, straddled her. His hands closed around her throat.
“Shut up,” he warned.
She couldn’t breathe. He was a black shadow above her, moonlight glinting on blond hair. Her throat turned to cement, a fire building up inside her chest.
If I just don’t fight, she decided. He will let me go.
He kept one hand around her throat as he ripped open her blouse, then began tugging at her skirt.
He will let me go.
She prayed those words, over and over, but her hands still clawed weakly at his face. The gravel and barbed wire dug into her back.
His hand tightened on her throat, and she wanted to tell him she would behave herself. She needed to breathe. If she could just get his attention, he would surely remember that.
She felt herself catching fire, as if her whole being were made of tissue paper. Her eyesight turned red, and the world faded into one small ember, slowly being smothered under Frankie’s hand.
ETCH ARRIVED AT THE CRIME SCENE HOPING TO FIND MAIA Lee dead.
Dispatch hadn’t told him much over the radio. A shoot-out in King William between a man and a woman. Lucia’s old address. Etch prayed Titus Roe had done his work.
Inside the yellow perimeter tape, the tow crew was loading a shot-to-hell Volvo sedan onto a flatbed trailer. The media vultures had cameras rolling. Neighbors wrapped in blankets shivered on their front lawns.
No ambulance or ME van.
Maybe the body was en route to the morgue.
Kelsey waited at the curb, his slacks splattered with what looked like coffee. He was holding his jacket over his crotch, as if that would hide the problem.
Etch gritted his teeth. Kelsey had been enough of an embarrassment for one day. Cops all over the city were already talking about his debacle of a car chase.
“So,” Etch said. “The old lady you pulled over must’ve looked pretty dangerous.”
Kelsey’s ears turned purple. “We were baited. It was Arguello.”
“You sure?”
“The old lady described the guys who switched cars with her. Arguello and a white guy.”
“Navarre?”
“Maybe.” Kelsey didn’t sound convinced. “Whoever he was, he gave the old lady a hundred bucks and told her to keep the van. No VIN. Engine block numbers erased. Completely untraceable.”
“Christ.”
“And then we got this.” Kelsey waved toward the shot-up Volvo.
Etch scanned the scene, trying to read what had happened. The Volvo had been hit at least four times by a large-caliber gun. No sign of Lee’s black BMW.
The shooting had started in the driveway of Lucia’s old house. Forensics had circled a spent casing on the concrete. Skid marks in front of the house indicated where the Volvo had peeled out.
Perhaps Lee had parked the BMW somewhere else—around the block so it’d be out of sight. She commandeered the Volvo, and Titus Roe had taken her down as she attempted to flee.
Etch tried to like that scenario.
He forced himself to look at Lucia’s house.
The old fry cook who rented the place had trashed the front porch with beer cans and lawn furniture. He’d desecrated the yard with his goddamn whirly bird decorations.
The idea of Mike Flume living here, sleeping in Lucia’s bedroom, always made Etch’s blood steam. Flume must’ve invited Maia Lee here to poke around for scraps of the past. God knew what else he’d told her. Etch should’ve taken care of him years ago, along with Jaime Santos. And as for Maia Lee . . .
“Hell of a shooter.” Kelsey pulled his trench coat tighter. “Lee sure knew how to stop a Volvo.”
Etch blinked. “Lee shot up the car?”
“Sorry, sir, I thought you knew. Witnesses up and down the block. Nice-looking Asian lady in a black BMW.”
“You mean—”
“The guy in the Volvo tried to kill her and she turned the tables. Chased after him, blew his car to hell.”
“She killed the guy?”
“No, sir. Took him out of the Volvo at gunpoint.” Kelsey shook his head in disgust. “They drove off together in her car. Neighbors thought she