Daylight (Atlee Pine #3)(3)

Pine headed up the sidewalk where the concrete had lurched upward, corrupted by decades of freezing and thawing and no maintenance. She imagined Ito Vincenzo, her sister’s abductor and the man who almost killed her, walking this very same path decades before. The thought left her nearly breathless. She stopped, composed herself, and kept going.

Pine reached the front door and peered in one of the side glass panels. She could see no activity going on in there. If the guy had followed in his daddy’s footsteps, the criminal element would not be out in the open. They usually did their dirty deeds in the basement and away from prying eyes. Yet the guy was gainfully employed at Fort Dix, so maybe he was completely law-abiding.

She knocked and got no answer. She knocked again as a courtesy and got the same result. She looked to her left at the house next door, where an old woman was rocking in a chair on her front porch, some needlework in hand. It was sunny, though cool, and she had on a bright orange shawl. Her gray hair looked freshly permed, with patches of shiny pink scalp peeking through here and there like sunlight through clouds. She took no note of Pine; her bespectacled eyes were focused on stitch one, purl two. Her yard was neatly kept, and colorful flowerpots with winter mums in them were arrayed around the porch, adding needed color to what was otherwise drab and cold.

“Tony’s in there,” the woman said quietly.

Pine walked over to the far end of Vincenzo’s front porch and put her hand on the wooden railing. “You know him?”

The woman, keeping her eyes on her needlework, nodded imperceptibly. “But I don’t know you.”

“Name’s Atlee.”

“Funny name for a girl.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that. So, he’s here?”

“Saw him go in an hour ago and he hasn’t come out.”

“Just him?”

“That I don’t know. But I haven’t seen anyone else.” The whole time the woman spoke quietly and kept her eyes on the knitting. Anyone not standing as close as Pine would not even be able to tell she was speaking to her.

“Okay, thanks for the heads-up.”

“You here to arrest him? You a cop?”

“No, and yes, I am,” said Pine.

“Then why are you knocking on his door?”

“Just want to ask him some questions.”

“He works at Fort Dix.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“He probably won’t like your questions.”

“Probably not. Does he live here full-time? I couldn’t find that out.”

“He’s in and out. He’s not nice to me. He calls me bad names and he pisses on my flowers. And I don’t like the look of his friends. This used to be a nice neighborhood. But not anymore. Now I just want to make it out alive.”

“Well, thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. Boy’s bad news. You watch yourself.”

“I will.” Pine walked back over to the front door and knocked again.

“Anthony Vincenzo?” she called out.

Nothing. For one, two, three seconds. Then something. A lot of something.

A noise exploded from the back of the house. Pine had heard that sound many times.

A back door being kicked open. Then another familiar noise: feet running away. People were always running away from her. And with good reason. And with equally good reason, she wasn’t going to let that happen.

She leapt over the porch railing as the woman looked up from her yarn and needles.

“Go get the little prick,” she said, a smile creasing her heavily wrinkled face.

Pine’s boots hit the pavement. She was at full speed in five strides.

Inhale through the nose, out through the mouth. Motor the arms and the legs will follow.

A blur of blue shirt and lighter jeans and clunky white sneakers was up ahead and pulling away.

She redoubled her speed but wasn’t making up any ground. Tony Vincenzo was over a decade younger, and undoubtedly faster, even with Pine’s longer legs. And he had the added fuel of fear. Fear could make the slow fast and the weak strong.

And turn a coward into the bravest of the brave, if only because there’s no way out.

“Tony, I just want to talk to you, that’s all,” she shouted out as she sucked in one quick breath after another.

Vincenzo merely increased his speed. Asshole was an Olympian now. She’d need a car to catch him.

Shit.

Pine looked around, eyeing any way she could take a shortcut and catch up to him. She briefly contemplated pulling her weapon and firing a warning shot just to scare the shit out of him, maybe making him run crazy, hit something, and fall over. That would be all she’d need.

She saw it at the last possible second: movement to her right. Then she was blindsided. She tumbled heels over ass, kept rolling on purpose, and popped to her feet in a controlled squat, her Glock out and pointed at the man who’d nailed her.

Only thing was his weapon was out and pointed at her.

“FBI!” she barked, mad with fury. “Drop the gun. Do it!”

“Army CID!” the man barked right back. “Put your weapon down. Now!”

The two were frozen, staring at each other for the longest time.

The man was over six three, ramrod straight, about two hundred extremely fit pounds, and also instantly familiar to Pine. She blinked rapidly, as though hoping it would not turn out to be who she thought it was. It didn’t work.