Lindsey was effeminate. Hell, he actually liked it, which scared the fuck out of him.
One thing for sure. He grinned. He could not wait for tonight.
Chapter Nine
Lindsey hobbled out of the parking garage and glanced both ways. A few people on the street, but no one seemed to notice an old woman resting by a wall. He’d had to wait for two people to leave the garage. Old grannies did not drive expensive electric cars—at least, not usually.
Bending over his cane, he started down the street toward the warehouse. It might be this one. Maybe not. But he’d looked at all the properties owned by that conglomerate. Only three appeared to be unoccupied, and one of them was the place the police had found Carla. No going back there. This could be a wild hare, but he had to look. He’d made a couple of calls that revealed the victim was the twenty-two-year-old son of a friend of his family. Lindsey didn’t know the boy, but even for a stranger, he would have felt compelled to go.
Granny speed did not add up to much hurrying. A couple of people passed and glanced at him with a little smile or widened eyes. Maybe Granny was getting too famous. He’d need another persona, but he’d be sad to lose Granny.
Like the previous building, this one looked abandoned, surrounded by a high wire fence lined with plastic so you couldn’t see in. He tottered along the fence line looking for a way in. Finally, a piece of the metal fencing and plastic liner were pulled back. No evidence of a vehicle entry. This looked like his best opportunity. With a glance around, he gathered his skirts and scrambled through the small opening.
On the other side—crickets. Quiet. Broken tarmac with grass and weeds pushing through in spots. The big open space made it hard to hide and the brilliant, near-full moon compromised the darkness seriously.
But he wasn’t going to find any kidnappers hanging around there. Staying in the shadow of the fence for as long as he could, he crept around the perimeter until he got to the nearest point to the building, then ran across the space. If anybody saw that, Granny’s reputation as an old lady was toast.
Pressed against the building, he moved slowly along the wall. What was that? A faint noise like a television or radio. He hurried to the corner of the building and peeked around. These guys should have been more careful, not less, but an access door cracked open with a line of light showing around it. The sound came from there. He’d been lucky last time. This time, he couldn’t count on there being no guard. He pulled his Beretta Nano from Granny’s purse….
Holy shit! Three cars and a van, no lights, pulled around the corner of the building. Lindsey turned and slithered back to the corner of the structure and slipped around it. Police. It had to be. He peeked. Sure enough, the van opened and a flood of FBI poured out in full body armor with automatic weapons drawn. He should vanish, but he wanted to be sure the boy got out alive. SWAT tactics had the subtlety of a brick sometimes.
He pressed against the plaster. If he could just wait….
All hell broke loose around the corner. Lights, megaphones, the crashing of walls. Damn. Brick subtlety indeed. He’d better get the hell out of there.
“Hey you, stop where you are.” A flashlight strobed across Lindsey’s—or rather Granny’s—body. The second the light moved, he ran like a rabbit, low and fast. Thank God he was faster than most humans. He’d get across the parking lot, find a crowd, ditch Granny’s outfit, and blend in.
He got to the edge of the building and sprinted toward the fence…. Wham! He staggered back three feet before he saved himself from falling, only to feel a hard hand grab the collar of his dress.
A voice—Oh God, not that voice—said, “I got her, Barry. No worries. Go on back.”
Lindsey struggled, but Seth’s strong hands held him. He had to break free. With a twist, he yanked his arm, swept Seth’s ankles with his other foot—Oh God, don’t hurt him—and pulled himself loose as Seth stumbled.
Fence. Free. He turned—
“Lindsey?”
He could run, not answer. But Seth knew.
“Shit, is that you?” Seth staggered toward him with a gun still drawn but pointed at the ground.
Oh right. He still held the Beretta clutched in his hand. He stuck it inside the needlepoint purse. “Yes.”
“You’re—you’re