Extreme Justice: A Ben Kincaid Novel of Suspense

Chapter 46

BEN JOGGED ACROSS the parking lot to his car, climbed in, and started the engine. He was so lost in thought as he drove crosstown that he was startled when his car phone rang.

He pushed the Send button, then set it to Hands-free so he could listen through the speaker.

“Hello.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

No introductions necessary. “Just having a pleasant moonlight drive, Mike.”

“Stow it, Ben. I just talked to Jones.”

“I told him—”

“Fortunately, he had the good sense not to listen. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know where you’re going, which makes it kind of hard for me to meet you.”

“Mike … this maniac’s got Tyrone. He’s … hurting him. He says he’ll kill him.”

“That’s what they all say. It’s a trap!”

“Mike, I have to go.”

“Fine. Pick me up. I’ll come with you.”

“I can’t do that, Mike. He’ll see us coming.”

“I’ll hide in the back.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t take the risk.”

“Ben, you’re being a damned fool!”

“Maybe so. But I’m going, just the same.”

“Ben!”

“The discussion is over, Mike.” He reached for the End button.

“Wait! Goddamn it, if you have to do this, at least take the gun I gave you. Do you have it?”

Ben hesitated. “It’s in the glove compartment.”

“Then use it.”

Ben frowned. “I don’t know how to shoot it. I don’t even know how to load it.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

“Well … I’ll give it some thought.”

“Ben! You can’t just walk in there blindly without a plan!”

“I have a plan. I’m not sure it’ll work. But I have a plan.”

“Ben! Damn you—!”

Too late. Ben pushed the button, disconnecting the line. He exited I-75 and headed west. Another couple of minutes and he’d be there. He might already be in sight of the killer, especially if he was using high-powered binoculars. Ben’s heart was beating so hard he could feel it; his hands were so sweat-drenched they kept slipping off the steering wheel.

There was no turning back now. This particular fugue had begun.

Ben stared straight ahead, letting his eyes drift toward the twinkling stars—particularly visible now that he was beyond the bright lights of the city. He couldn’t help remembering a few weeks before when he and Christina had been gazing at some of the same stars, and wishing he were back there now. This would be a wonderful time to be able to believe in angels, he thought. This would be a hell of a lot easier if he could believe there was someone, somewhere, watching over him.

“All right,” he said, just over his breath, “if Christina’s right, if I really do have some guardian angel up there, I could use some help, okay? I mean, I would really appreciate it. I have to do this, but I don’t want to, you know? Most likely, I’m—I’m not going to come out of this.” His voice caught in his throat. “I could just use some help, okay?”

“Then take the gun.”

Ben blinked. “That’s not a very angelic response.”

“I ain’t no goddamn angel.”

Ben’s head jerked back. “Earl!”

“Right the first time. And I’m tellin’ you to take the damn gun.”

Ben slammed down on the brakes, swerving wildly onto the shoulder. He twisted around toward the back of the van. “What are you doing here?”

Ben saw the silhouette of a head rise up between the two back bench seats. “I’m tryin’ to help.”

“Keep your head down!” Ben whirled around, faced the front, and eased back onto the road. If the killer was as good as his threats, he might already be watching them.

Ben hissed between his teeth. “I told you—”

“Hey, is it my fault you ain’t got the sense to lock your car?” He paused. “Ben, you can’t face this creep alone.”

“Earl, if he sees you, Tyrone’s dead. And you and me, too, probably.”

“I couldn’t let you come out here alone.”

“Do you want Tyrone to die? Do you?” Ben left the main highway and turned onto the service road leading to his destination. “Answer me! Do you?”

“Of course I don’t.”

“Then listen up. Stay on the floor and stay out of sight. Okay?”

There was no response.

“Do you understand me? Tyrone’s life is at stake, Earl.” He waited through the silence, his hands clenching the steering wheel. “Answer me!”

Earl’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I understand.”

“Will you promise to stay in the car? Out of sight?”

There was another long pause, but he finally answered. “I promise.”

Ben exhaled. He continued down the winding service road. He was dripping with sweat; he could almost feel the adrenaline surging through his body.

And he wasn’t even there yet.

He emerged from the service road and guided the van into the parking lot. There were a lot of empty places this time of night—all of them, in fact. He parked in the nearest row, then shut down the van. Without saying a word, without even thinking, he stepped out and closed the door.

It was all right ahead of him. The Buxley Oil refinery. And the killer.