Fear

TWENTY-NINE

Groote didn’t like the conversation with Hurley. Not a bit. It made no sense, passing up an opportunity to help find Raymond…

Raymond. Maybe Raymond was there, with Hurley. At Celeste’s house. But how would he know about Celeste?

Because Allison had told him. Jesus, he had been in it with Allison.

He called Hurley’s cell phone again. It rang. And rang. No answer.

Their plan was off the rails, and, crap, Groote had Sorenson in one office, this fed in the other, caught between them. Hurley would have to fend on his own for a few minutes.

Groote gave DeShawn Pitts a shrug. ‘I’m sorry. You know doctors. They always leave you waiting. Doctor Hurley’s dealing with a suicidal patient – he may not be available until tomorrow.’

‘Then I’ll check back with him in the morning.’

Groote walked the officer out with hearty handshakes and then stood at the window. Pitts’s car remained in the lot; the officer sitting behind the driver’s wheel, talking on his phone.

Just hurry up and go. Please. Finally Pitts drove away.

He tried Hurley’s cell phone again. No answer. He went back to the conference room. Sorenson sat there, drinking coffee. ‘Where’s your fed?’ Sorenson asked.

‘Gone.’

‘Why the visit?’

‘It’s nothing to concern you.’

‘I still want to see Ruiz.’

‘I have some other very pressing business to attend to, right now.’

‘Our deal’s based on me seeing Ruiz,’ Sorenson said. ‘I’ve helped you. You help me. It won’t take but a few minutes.’

Groote decided. ‘But let’s make it quick. Follow me.’