Second Chance

Chapter 85

I WAS TOTALLY WIRED after work. There was just no way I could go home and unwind.

I headed down Brannan toward Potrero, my mind replaying the gut-stabbing interview with Coombs. He was taunting us, laughing in our faces, knowing we couldn't bring I knew who Chimera was... but I couldn't touch him.

I stopped at a light, not wanting to go home but not knowing where else to go. Cindy had a date; Jill and Claire were home with their husbands; I probably could have had a date if I made myself the least bit available.

I thought about calling Claire, but my cell phone was down - I needed to recharge the damn battery. I wanted to do something - the urgency was ripping through me.

If I could only get into Coombs's hotel room... I felt torn between heading home and possibly making the biggest mistake of my career. My rational voice said, Lindsay, go home, get him tomorrow... He's going to mess up soon.

The pounding in my heart said, Uh-uh, baby... stay on him. Rattle the fucker.

I swung my Explorer onto Seventh and headed for the Tenderloin district. It was almost nine o'clock.

My car seemed to drive itself to the William Simon. My chest felt tight and pressurized. Pete Worth and Ted Morelli had night watch, and as I pulled up, I spotted them in a blue Acura. They had orders, if Coombs left, to follow and radio in. Earlier that day, Coombs had sauntered out, strolled conspicuously around the block, and finally settled in a coffee shop to read the paper. He knew he was being watched.

I climbed out of my Explorer and went over to Worth and Morelli. “Any sign?”

Morelli leaned out the driver's-side window. “Nada, Lieutenant. He's probably up there watching the Kings game. The scumbag. He knows we're stuck down here. Why don't you go home? We've got him covered for the night.”

Much as I hated to admit it, he was probably right. There was nothing much I could do here. -

I started the engine again and flashed a wave to the boys as I passed by But at the corner, on Eddy, some controlling impulse restrained me from leaving. It was as if something were saying, What you want is here.

He knows he's being watched... And?... He wants to show up the SFPD.

I drove down Polk, back toward the William Simon. I passed pawnshops, an all-night liquor store, a storefront Chinese take-out. A parked patrol car sat at the end of the block.

I drove past the rear of the hotel. Several garbage cans outside. Not much else. The street was deserted. I turned off my lights and sat there. I don't know what I was expecting to happen, but I was driving myself crazy.

I finally climbed out of the Explorer and went inside the back door of the hotel. Rattle the fucker. I was thinking about going back upstairs to talk to Coombs again. Yeah, maybe we could watch the Kings game together.

There was a narrow, dingy bar just off the lobby. I took a peek inside, saw a couple of real skulls, but not Frank Coombs. Goddamn it, a murderer was here in this hotel, a cop murderer, and we couldn't do a thing about it.

A movement near the back stairs caught my eye. I ducked back inside the shadowy bar. A real oldie was playing on the juke, Sam and Dave's “Soul Man.” I watched a person coming down the stairs, casting glances around like The Fugitive.

What the hell was this?

I recognized the camouflage jacket, the floppy hat pulled over his face. I stared hard to be sure.

It was Frank Coombs.

Chimera was on the move.