Cherry Bomb

CHAPTER 30

LUCKY BITCH.

It had a December 31 vibe, like counting down the seconds until the new year, and Alex had been looking forward to seeing the monochromatic fireworks of poor Lance’s head blowing up. But lucky Jack stormed in at the last possible second and saved his miserable life.

How anticlimactic.

Things became interesting again when the two cops arrived, but Jack killed the live feed in the middle of that little drama. Cue commercial. Switch channels.

Alex considers her next move. It’s still too early to pay Jack’s ex a visit, so she spends some time on the Internet, reading up on defibrillators, replying to an e-mail in her anonymous account, learning about bulletproofing a vehicle. Boring stuff, but necessary. Then she logs on to the homepage of her pay-as-you-go cell phone ser vice provider. The phones are impossible to trace, but they do keep track of minutes and numbers called. Because Alex is spoofing caller ID, most of the numbers listed are 555-5555.

But there are a few real numbers. The numbers Jack has called from the phone Alex gave her.

One of them is interesting. An 800 number. Alex makes a mental note to call it later.

At a little after seven a.m. she dresses in the police uniform and goes for a ride, finding a twenty-four-hour con ve nience store and picking up two rolls of duct tape and some quick energy foods: chips, beef jerky, candy bars. She also gets a six-pack of bottled water.

It’s going to be a thirsty day.

Back at the hotel she checks her appearance and then knocks on Alan’s door.

“Yeah?” he answers.

Alex steps away from the peephole, letting him see her good profile and her cop clothes.

“Mr. Daniels? It’s about your ex-wife.”

She resists a smile when she hears the lock turn, the Cheetah stun gun palmed in her right hand.

Two seconds after the door opens, Alan is on his knees. Two seconds after that, he’s facedown on the carpeting.

Alex checks the hallway for witnesses, and seeing none, drags Jack’s husband to bed.