Mean Streak(120)

She pushed herself off the car and set out at a run.

*





As they exited the courthouse and walked toward the parked SUV, Jack groused, “What kind of freaking policy—”

“He’s the judge,” Knight said.

Grange got behind the wheel, Knight rode shotgun, Jack climbed into the back. “Buckle up,” Knight told him. “We got laws.”

Jack clicked on his seat belt and checked his phone, the use of which had been forbidden for as long as they’d been inside the courthouse waiting on the arrest warrant. “Emory,” he told the other two as he activated his voice mail. Then, “Oh shit! Oh shit!”

“What?” Grange said.

Jack rattled off Emory’s message. “Hayes is walking into danger. Then she started breaking up and went away. Check your phone, Grange. She said Alice Butler was going to call you with details. Also, Jeff’s alibi was a lie.” To Knight, he said, “Get some units rolling toward the Floyds’ place, but first see if you can get Emory back. I’ll call Hayes, and that son of a bitch had damn well better answer.”

Grange, driving with one hand, checked his phone. “No calls from Alice Butler.”

“Emory’s phone goes straight to her recording,” Knight said. “Buddy, keep heading for the suite hotel, but let’s amp it up.”

Grange turned on the siren and light bar and stepped on the gas.

“Son of a gun. When all hell breaks loose…” Knight muttered as he got on the unit’s radio to dispatch.

Meanwhile Jack had put in the call to the burner phone Hayes was currently using. He counted one ring, two, and was just about to give up when Hayes answered. “What?”

“I know you got a call from Lisa Floyd, and that you’re running to her rescue. What you don’t know is that Jeff Surrey is behind her plea for help.”

“How do you know?”

“Emory left me a message.”

“How did she know?”

“We think it came from Alice Butler. We’re trying to ascertain that.”

“Trying?”

“I called Emory again,” Knight said, speaking over his shoulder. “Got her recording.”

“Did you hear that?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” Hayes said. “Her phone battery had to charge.”

“She cut out on the message,” Jack told him, “but one thing came through loud and clear. You’re being set up for an ambush.”

“Way ahead of you. I figured as much. I just didn’t know Jeff was behind it. Where are you now?”

“On our way to Jeff’s hotel to serve the warrant.”

“Stay with that. Get that bastard locked up.”

“Will do.”

“Tell Emory to stay put at the motel. Call the room phone if you can’t reach her by cell.”

“Roger that. Don’t confront those hillbillies alone. SO units are on the way.”

“I’ll handle the Floyds.”

“Hayes, you—”

“I’ll handle them.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“We got here in time to head Jeff off,” Grange said as he wheeled the SUV into the suite hotel parking lot. “His car’s still here.”

Jack relayed that to Hayes, who said, “Save me a piece of him,” and then he disconnected.

Jack was still cursing him as he scrambled out of the backseat.

“I’ll check with our guy.” Grange struck out at a jog toward an unmarked vehicle on the other side of the parking lot.

Knight climbed out of the SUV’s passenger side. He sounded winded. “Still no answer on Emory’s phone. Got squad cars converging on the Floyds’ place, but this goddamn weather…” He didn’t need to elaborate on the additional hazards it imposed.

Jack said, “Well, it’ll hold up Hayes, too. That’s good.”

During this exchange, they’d been walking purposefully toward the door of the suite. Grange joined them there. “Deputy says Jeff had company. A lady.”

Jack said, “Lady? Emory?”

“No. The deputy didn’t recognize her.”

“Alice Butler?”

“She’d be my guess,” Knight said. He pounded on the door. “Jeff? Open up.”

They waited. Nothing.

“Jeff!” Knight called. “This isn’t a courtesy call. We have a warrant.”

After several more seconds and nothing happened, Knight said, “I’ve had it with this shitbag.” He took his pistol from its holster and shot out the lock.

No one was on the lower floor. Grange headed for the stairs, pistol drawn and aimed at the partially open door at the top. “Give it up, Jeff.”

When he reached the door, he stood aside and pushed it open. Nothing happened, so he stepped into the room. Jack slipped in behind the detective. Knight brought up the rear, huffing.

Later Jack would recall him saying, “Aw, now that’s just ugly.”

*


Emory hurt all over. It hurt even to breathe.

The foggy air felt full of something invisible but sharp, like ice crystals or glass shards. She was underdressed. The raw cold stung her face where the skin was exposed. It made her eyes water, requiring her to blink constantly to keep the tears from blurring her vision and obscuring her path.