The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)(82)
“If I didn’t want to put a bullet between his eyes,” Ramos said, “I’d have to call it impressive.”
“Just making us earn our paychecks,” Hurdle said. He stopped pacing and turned to face them. “We can’t let this go unanswered. What have we missed?”
“Nothing,” Tarkoff said. “Marcks is smart. He knows what he’s doing. We feed off the dumb ones, catch them doing shit they need to do to stay alive. But Marcks, he knows our playbook, how we track fugitives. And he avoids doing that stuff. Makes our jobs that much more difficult.”
“Yeah, well right now, one of our own is depending on us to work smarter. Work harder. Because if we don’t—”
Curtis’s phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, did not recognize the number, and was about to ignore it when something told him to answer. “Curtis.”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Karen? Where are you? You okay?”
“Marcks grabbed me from the parking lot and—”
“That much we figured out. How’d you get away?”
“I’ll tell you when I see you. Right now, all you gotta know is that Marcks left me about twenty minutes ago still driving the tan ’64 Buick LeSabre.” She gave him the location and requested that someone pick her up.
“On my way. And hey—really glad to hear your voice.”
Vail laughed. “I could say the same thing.”
43
What are you doing here?” Hurdle asked as Vail and Curtis walked through the command post door.
“I work here,” Vail said. “Unless you guys voted me off the task force while I was away on vacation.”
“Not what I meant,” Hurdle said. “Shouldn’t you be at a hospital?”
Vail sat down at one of the workstations. “You mean because my head’s spinning? I’ll be okay. No time to sit in an ER.”
“You’re a mess. Your face looks like hell.”
“Thanks. Not what a woman wants to hear, ever. Remember that, Hurdle, and it’ll save you years of grief when you get married.”
“I’m divorced.”
“See what I mean?”
“Karen—”
“I’ll get some ice later. It’s just swollen.”
Hurdle looked at Curtis, who held up a hand. “Already tried talking sense to her, boss.”
Hurdle took a breath and cocked his head. “Suit yourself. Ramos and Tarkoff are on their way, just ran something down for me. Be here any minute. You should at least drink some water.”
Vail shrugged. “Okay. Why?”
“Stop arguing.” He poured her a glass from the refrigerator spout and handed it to her, then pulled out several ice cubes and dropped them in a Ziploc baggie. “Put this on your nose. And your jaw. And your eye.”
Vail took it and gently pressed it against her skin. “This feels worse.”
The door swung open and Ramos, Tarkoff, and Morrison entered.
“Great. Three of you. Grab a seat, let’s get caught up.”
They gave Vail a pat on the back as they passed her chair.
“So that Buick,” Ramos said. “It was sold from a used car lot on Fairfax Boulevard in Fairfax. Owner’s Oliver Aldrich. Old guy, pushing ninety-five. Pretty good memory, though. Remembers selling the car to a guy matching Marcks’s description. I showed him the mug shot and yeah, we got a positive ID.”
“We already knew that, more or less,” Vail said, moving the ice over her swollen jaw.
“Right,” Ramos said. “Paid a hundred twenty bucks, cash.”
“Did he seem stressed?” Hurdle asked.
“Marcks? Not at all.”
“Took it for a test drive,” Tarkoff said, “if you can believe that.”
“Marcks took the car for a test drive?” Curtis shook his head. “Jesus. That’s one cool dude. Not a worry in the world.”
“With me,” Vail said, “he was alert and in control, even when I had the knife against his carotid.” Too bad we didn’t hit a bump. “It’s like he’s steps ahead of us.”
Hurdle slammed his hand on the table. “Yeah, well, that’s our goddamn fault! We’re not doing our jobs.”
“All due respect,” Morrison said, “he’s had time to think this through. Years to plan it.”
“Bullshit. Bottom line is that he’s a felon on the run with limited resources. He’s just more resourceful than we are, apparently.”
Vail fought off a wave of vertigo and got up from her seat. “I think I should go lie down.”
“Finally, some common sense,” Hurdle said. “Curtis, drive her home.”
“I can make it. Just a little dizzy.”
“So much for common sense.”
“I don’t want to take any more resources away from the task force. I’ll be fine. I’m not that far. I’ll drive slow.”
AS SOON AS THE DOOR SWUNG CLOSED, Hurdle’s phone rang. He listened a moment, then said, “Text me the address.”
He hung up and gestured to Curtis. “You’re with me. They got an ID on the guy we found in Great Falls park. He lives—lived—in Falls Church. They went by his house and found his wife and daughter bound and gagged. They’re at Fairfax Hospital.”