2 Sisters Detective Agency(72)

“What?” I sat up. “Got away how? Where is she?”

“I don’t know.” Summerly flicked the sirens on. “They were putting her in the car at the gas station when some kid came up and got in the middle of everything. The two ran off together.”

“Ashton,” I said.

“Who?”

“Never mind. She’s gone. She’s out there alone. We’ve got to go back and find her.”

“I’m trying.” Summerly leaned on the horn as drivers ahead of him panicked and tried to get out of his way in various different directions, blocking the lanes even further.

I could only sit back and burn with frustration, wondering what Baby’s plan was. I guessed she would be afraid and angry at me for abandoning her, even though the arrest wasn’t my fault. Maybe she would split off from Ashton, or she would take him along, but in either case, she wouldn’t let the older boy be in charge of keeping them safe—she didn’t trust him, didn’t trust anyone, and would be thinking quickly about the best route to safety. Yes, that’s what she would do. I didn’t know Baby completely, but I thought I knew how she would act under duress.

I felt confident that she would go back to the house for the drug cartel money. There’d been a sharpness in her eyes at the gas station when she realized that I’d given her a clue to the whereabouts of the cash.

So you did hide it in the house, she’d said.

Baby and possibly Ashton would almost certainly head to the house. Vegas and his guys were probably heading there too, now that he knew I was under arrest and out of the picture.

I opened my mouth, almost told Summerly that I was near certain Baby would be heading back to Manhattan Beach. But like my young sister, my trust had been ground down to nothing. If I sent the police back to the house, I risked surrounding Baby with cops just as she left the premises with a bag full of cash and possibly the cartel drugs, since I’d stuffed the meth into the duffel too. It was a situation even I couldn’t see myself arguing her out of.

Maybe the best thing I could do at this point would be to help Baby get in and out of the house quickly, before Vegas and his guys turned up. The longer Baby and Ashton searched for the money, the longer they would be in danger. I had to tell them where to find it.

I worked my phone out of my back pocket and tried to visualize the screen, but there was no telling if I had been successful in swiping it open. I took a moment to lament the days when phones had actual buttons that beeped when pressed. I tossed my phone onto the seat beside me and stared helplessly at it. In the front of the car, Summerly’s phone rang again and he reached for it and answered.

“What? Where? How many?”

He was distracted. I shuffled sideways and lay down on the seat, my mouth to the phone.

“Hey, Siri,” I murmured.

“Yes?” the robotic female voice answered.

“Text Baby.”

“What do you want to say?”

“Under vanity.”

“Your text says, ‘Under vanity.’ Would you like to send it?”

“Oh, my God,” Summerly said from the front seat. He gave a hard sigh as he swung the wheel again, cutting through traffic and off an exit ramp.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Change of plans,” he said. “I’ve been called elsewhere. Baby’s gonna have to wait. There’s an active shooter on the loose.”





Chapter 100



The blond girl, Vera, launched herself at Jacob. She hit him in the stomach with her shoulder but didn’t even knock the wind out of him.

Jacob twisted and threw her against the other wall of the little room, smashing down a little shelf of books and a whiteboard covered with magnets, paper, and pens. They scrambled together against the wall, knocking a vase of flowers off the bedside table and onto the floor.

Vera screamed with rage and pain as Jacob picked her up again and threw her into the hallway. He took a moment to roll his shoulders, flex his triceps. He was going to take his time, enjoy this. For Beaty. For Neina.

Vera scrambled away up the hall, her hand bleeding, leaving little wet prints. Jacob walked up, tried to straddle her, but she whipped around and slashed at his leg with something thin and sharp, a piece of glass from the broken vase. He bent and punched at her face, missed, hit the floor, felt her sharp nails gouge across the side of his head and into his eye. She moved fast and had good aim, the natural instincts of a predator.

Jacob gathered himself, grabbed Vera’s wrist, and bashed it against the linoleum until the shard of glass came free. She wriggled out of his grip and got up, ran around a corner and down a short hall, scattering terrified hospital staff and visitors. Jacob followed. He drew his gun and blasted three times into a door, one bullet hitting an inch from her shoulder as she barged through.

An old man in a thin paper gown came out of his room, eyed Jacob, and retreated into the darkness again, flashing his sagging underwear as he went.

Jacob pushed through the doors and found himself in a huge operating theater. On the operating table a man lay unconscious, his chest spread open and innards exposed under white lights. The surgical staff cowered as Vera snatched a scalpel off the abandoned tray table. She brandished the scalpel in one hand and beckoned Jacob with the other.





Chapter 101