Cruel Justice

73

“HURRY!” BEN SHOUTED. HE was leaning out of the passenger seat, hovering over Mike as he drove. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

“I’m doing the best I can,” Mike muttered, clutching the wheel. “Aren’t you the one who normally complains that I drive too fast?” He barreled the Trans Am up the entrance ramp and hit I-244 doing eighty. Once he made it into the fast lane, he pulled his flasher out of the seat divider and snapped it onto the roof of his car. A second later the siren was squealing and cars began to clear out of the way.

“I should’ve seen this coming,” Ben muttered. “The clues were right in front of me. Mitch told me he specially requested the assignment to oversee the caddyshack. Natch. Like you told me—perverts always try to finagle jobs that will put them into contact with kids. What’s more, he told me he hated Rutherford’s guts. That must be at least part of the reason why he’s singled out Abie.”

“Gimme the handset,” Mike commanded. Ben did as he was told.

A few moments later a voice squawked on the other end. “Headquarters.”

“Marty? Mike. I want two squad cars immediately. More if you can get them.” He gave her Ben’s address. “Any idea how long?”

“I’m not sure, Mike. All the rovers in the area are checking out a reported shooting at the Route 66 Café.”

“Damn it, this is an emergency!”

He heard the klickety-klack of buttons on the other end. “I’ll put out the word.”

“But how long?” There was a short pause. “Damn!” Mike threw the handset across the car, narrowly missing Ben’s head. “We’ll get there before they do.”

Ben removed Mike’s car phone from the glove box. He had no idea how to work it. “Get me an outside line.”

Mike punched in the access codes, then Ben dialed a local number. His number.

“Busy signal.” He looked at Mike grimly. “I don’t think Christina would be talking. The phone must be off the hook.”

Mike’s hands tightened on the wheel. Ben felt the car surge even faster.

They sped past Peoria, watching the other cars pull over onto the shoulder. It would still be several more minutes before they arrived. And there was no telling how long Mitch had been there already.

Ben tried another number. After a second he heard: “Hello?”

“This is Ben. Who’s this, Jami?”

“Close. Joni. Hey, Booker told me you two talked. Thanks for—”

“I don’t have time for this now,” Ben said. “Look, Christina’s in my apartment.”

“I know. You sly fox, you.”

“Do you know if she’s had any visitors?”

“I was on the stairs playing cards about ten minutes ago when some hunky dude went up to your apartment.”

“Tall? Dark hair? Gray eyes?”

“That’s the one.”

Ben winced. Mitch Dryer was there.

“Hey, is something wrong? Do you want me to go over there?”

“No. Definitely do not go over there. Christina is in great danger. I need to get a message to her.” If it’s not already too late.

“Just a sec.” The line was muffled for a moment. “Booker says he’ll go.”

“Booker is at your place now? With your parents?”

“Well …” She coughed. “The rest of the family is at the movies right at the moment. … Anyway, he says he’ll go.”

“I don’t think that’s safe.”

“Look, she’ll be a lot safer with Booker there than she would be alone. What’s the message?”

Ben clenched his teeth. He hated to do this, but she was right. Christina alone wouldn’t stand a chance. “Just tell her that he’s the one. Without tipping the guy off. We don’t want him to go ballistic.” If he hasn’t already. “And tell her to get the kids out of there. And herself.”

“Got it.”

“Remember, don’t tip the man off.”

“Don’t worry. Booker is a master of subtlety.”

“Look, I still don’t think—”

It was too late. The line was dead.

“So what’s the word?” Mike asked.

Ben stared ahead at the highway. “Drive like hell,” he muttered, clutching the dash.