Read Online The Promise: An Elvis Cole and Joe Pike Novel by Robert Crais - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Crais
Ads: Link
in front of them. The driver was a Latin guy with high and tight hair. An Anglo with long blond hair was in the passenger seat. They looked away when I passed and waited longer to pull out behind me than they needed.
Three blocks later I stopped at a taco shop, bought an egg and chorizo burrito, and ate at a window table. I told myself I was being silly, but I didn’t like how the Dodge had waited to turn. He could have easily turned behind me, but he waited until another car was between us. Drivers in Los Angeles never waited. Other drivers ran over you.
I finished the burrito and checked both sides of the street as I gotinto my car. The blue Dodge was gone. I felt better, but the same blue Dodge was behind a UPS truck in a mini-mall parking lot on the next corner. He was good, hiding behind the bigger truck, but I caught the dusty blue as I changed lanes. The driver was the same Latin male with high and tight hair. They were facing the exit, idling there in the parking lot, but they didn’t pull out after me. They let me pass. I watched the exit as long as I could, but they didn’t pull out. This meant they were working with at least one other car and as many as three.
Detective Carter had made me a priority.
The surveillance cars would not stop me unless they were ordered to stop me. Their job was surveillance. They would hang back, shadow, and report, after which task force detectives would visit the places I went, and question the people with whom I spoke. I couldn’t protect Amy if they knew I was asking about her, so the surveillance team had to go.
Slipping a multi-car rolling surveillance wouldn’t be easy, but I had a secret weapon.
I turned away from Everett’s and called a friend.
Joe Pike.
10
Scott James
S COTT WAS DRIFTING in an achy void when a woman’s voice woke him. Before therapy, before Maggie entered his life, Stephanie Anders haunted his dreams three or four times each night.
“Officer James?”
Stephanie would come to him, forever trapped in her last moments, bleeding to death as a robbery crew raked them with automatic rifle fire.
“Scott?”
Stephanie would come, begging Scott to save her, to stay with her, even as heavy bullets slammed into their bodies.
I’m here, Steph.
I’m not leaving.
I won’t leave you.
“Scott? Wake up.”
Scott lurched awake, and saw Glory Stiles standing over him. Herface split into the most beautiful, amazing smile, and she held out a cup of coffee.
“Black, two sugars. Watch out now, it’s hot.”
Scott had worked with a sketch artist until almost three, and crashed on a couch in one of the conference rooms. He winced as he sat up. First move of the morning was always bad, as if the scars across his ribs grew brittle with sleep. He accepted the coffee, and slowly creaked to his feet.
Stiles said, “Sleeping on these couches is just the worst, now, isn’t it? Heaven knows, I’ve done it too many times.”
Carter came in as Scott stood, holding a sheet of paper in his teeth as he tapped out a text on his phone.
Scott sipped the coffee, and said nothing about the true reason for his stiffness. He checked the time, and was shocked to see it was mid-morning. The night before, Budress transported Maggie to the K-9 Platoon’s training facility when Scott was ordered to report to the Boat.
“I have to see about my dog. She doesn’t like being away from me.”
Stiles flashed the smile at Carter.
“Aw, Brad, now isn’t that cute? You see how they are with these dogs?”
Carter finished his text and handed Scott the sheet. It was a copy of the artist’s finished sketch.
“What do you think? Anything you’d change or adjust?”
Scott was impressed with the quality of the artist’s work. The hand-rendered sketch wasn’t a photograph, but the likeness was good. It showed a fair-skinned man in his early fifties with high cheekbones, a long nose, and short dark hair. The artist had captured the man’s pouty mouth in just the right
Three blocks later I stopped at a taco shop, bought an egg and chorizo burrito, and ate at a window table. I told myself I was being silly, but I didn’t like how the Dodge had waited to turn. He could have easily turned behind me, but he waited until another car was between us. Drivers in Los Angeles never waited. Other drivers ran over you.
I finished the burrito and checked both sides of the street as I gotinto my car. The blue Dodge was gone. I felt better, but the same blue Dodge was behind a UPS truck in a mini-mall parking lot on the next corner. He was good, hiding behind the bigger truck, but I caught the dusty blue as I changed lanes. The driver was the same Latin male with high and tight hair. They were facing the exit, idling there in the parking lot, but they didn’t pull out after me. They let me pass. I watched the exit as long as I could, but they didn’t pull out. This meant they were working with at least one other car and as many as three.
Detective Carter had made me a priority.
The surveillance cars would not stop me unless they were ordered to stop me. Their job was surveillance. They would hang back, shadow, and report, after which task force detectives would visit the places I went, and question the people with whom I spoke. I couldn’t protect Amy if they knew I was asking about her, so the surveillance team had to go.
Slipping a multi-car rolling surveillance wouldn’t be easy, but I had a secret weapon.
I turned away from Everett’s and called a friend.
Joe Pike.
10
Scott James
S COTT WAS DRIFTING in an achy void when a woman’s voice woke him. Before therapy, before Maggie entered his life, Stephanie Anders haunted his dreams three or four times each night.
“Officer James?”
Stephanie would come to him, forever trapped in her last moments, bleeding to death as a robbery crew raked them with automatic rifle fire.
“Scott?”
Stephanie would come, begging Scott to save her, to stay with her, even as heavy bullets slammed into their bodies.
I’m here, Steph.
I’m not leaving.
I won’t leave you.
“Scott? Wake up.”
Scott lurched awake, and saw Glory Stiles standing over him. Herface split into the most beautiful, amazing smile, and she held out a cup of coffee.
“Black, two sugars. Watch out now, it’s hot.”
Scott had worked with a sketch artist until almost three, and crashed on a couch in one of the conference rooms. He winced as he sat up. First move of the morning was always bad, as if the scars across his ribs grew brittle with sleep. He accepted the coffee, and slowly creaked to his feet.
Stiles said, “Sleeping on these couches is just the worst, now, isn’t it? Heaven knows, I’ve done it too many times.”
Carter came in as Scott stood, holding a sheet of paper in his teeth as he tapped out a text on his phone.
Scott sipped the coffee, and said nothing about the true reason for his stiffness. He checked the time, and was shocked to see it was mid-morning. The night before, Budress transported Maggie to the K-9 Platoon’s training facility when Scott was ordered to report to the Boat.
“I have to see about my dog. She doesn’t like being away from me.”
Stiles flashed the smile at Carter.
“Aw, Brad, now isn’t that cute? You see how they are with these dogs?”
Carter finished his text and handed Scott the sheet. It was a copy of the artist’s finished sketch.
“What do you think? Anything you’d change or adjust?”
Scott was impressed with the quality of the artist’s work. The hand-rendered sketch wasn’t a photograph, but the likeness was good. It showed a fair-skinned man in his early fifties with high cheekbones, a long nose, and short dark hair. The artist had captured the man’s pouty mouth in just the right
Similar Books
