The God's Eye View

CHAPTER 34

Manus was pacing at the periphery of the giant Columbia Mall parking lot. The sun shone headache-bright in his eyes as it approached the horizon, then cast a lengthening shadow on the pavement in front of him as he headed the other way. He flexed his hands as he walked. Open. Closed. Open. Closed.

He hadn’t liked it when Delgado hit the woman to stun her, but he understood it had to be done. Delgado had tossed Manus her purse, and Manus had done his part, picking up the shoe she’d lost, getting out her keys, driving her car away from the scene of the snatch. He was supposed to search the car and the purse and then text Delgado when he was done, regardless of whether he found anything. Well, he hadn’t found anything, not even in her shoe. But he hadn’t texted Delgado. He doubted the woman had on her person what the director wanted — the purse or the car were more likely. So if he told Delgado he hadn’t found anything, Delgado would think the woman had hidden it somewhere else. At which point, he would make her tell. Manus didn’t want to think about how. He didn’t like the way Delgado had been looking at her in the Sprinter, when he was kneeling on her back. Manus knew what that look meant. He’d tried to tell himself he was wrong, but he knew Delgado. Knew what he was like.

You should never have left her alone with him. Never.

Stop it. It’s what the director wanted. You had no choice.

He paced, the sun below the treetops now, their shadows overtaking his. With every other step, he smacked a fist into a thigh, harder and harder.

But you’re supposed to tell him. You have to find what she took from the director. It’s something she could hurt him with. That’s why the director had to do this.

He’d told Delgado not to hurt her. Delgado had given him a strange look, as though Manus had asked him not to hurt a fly, an ant. He’d responded, “Why do you care?” And Manus hadn’t answered. Couldn’t.

He told himself he should have gone to her earlier, before any of this had happened, even before he had gone to the director. He could have explained, made her understand she had to give back the thumb drive. Maybe she would have listened.

Or maybe she wouldn’t have. And what would he have done then?

But he could explain now. Now she would understand. Now she would listen. Because…

If the thumb drive is what the director wanted, once he has it why couldn’t he just let her go?

Open, closed. Open. Closed.

But what if he’s afraid she could still hurt him, somehow? Because of what she knows. And he must be afraid of that. He must be. That’s why he’s doing this. Not just to get the thumb drive back. To make sure she can never say anything to anyone afterward. That’s why. She was going to do something bad and she still could and you had NO CHOICE.

He stopped and clutched the sides of his head.

Why did she have to do whatever she did? Why?

He thought of the way she had put her hands on his face, the way she had kissed him.

I’m sorry, Evie. I’m so sorry.

He sat on the curb, covered his face, and started to cry.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want her to get hurt. He didn’t want her to die. But it wasn’t up to him. She’d done something, something to the director. But why? Why did she have to do that?

His phone vibrated and he yanked it out of his shirt pocket. A text from Delgado: You checked the car and the purse? And that shoe?

Manus’s heart started pounding. He hesitated, then texted, Yes.

And?

He had to tell Delgado. It was what the director wanted. But if Delgado was asking, it meant he hadn’t found it on her person. So if it wasn’t in the car or the purse or the shoe, it meant she had hidden it. Which meant the next step was, Delgado would make her tell where.

He pressed his palms to his temples and squeezed. What do I do what do I do WHAT DO I DO.

You there, genius?

Manus looked at the text. Suddenly, he wanted to go to work on Delgado. Everything else was so confusing, but that was so clear.

Yes.

Did you check her shit?

Yes.

Holy shit, are you fucking mute now, too? Did you find anything?

Tears running down his face, Manus typed, No. And hit Send.

He blinked and looked at the text. Had he meant to send it? He hadn’t thought. He’d just typed the two letters and then hit Send. And now it was done. Now he didn’t have to think about it anymore. But he couldn’t stop thinking.

He stood and began pacing again. A moment later, another text came in.

Yeah, that’s what I was expecting. She says she hid it. Thumb drive, as expected. In the nursing home next to the supermarket. Ladies’ room, on the left as you go in through the side entrance. Handicapped stall, taped to the back of the toilet near the floor.

Manus was so relieved his knees went rubbery. Delgado must have scared her into telling, but he wouldn’t have hurt her. Not yet. Manus knew how it worked. It was better to hold the pain back, if you could.

But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t come later.

He texted, Okay.

Okay as in, you’re going to check it out now?

Yes.

How long?

I don’t know. I’m not there right now.

Wait a minute, didn’t you bring the car back to the supermarket?

No. Why?

You have to bring it back.

Why?

So things look right.

Manus shook his head, not liking this at all.

What does that mean?

Do I have to spell it out for you, dummy? Her car just needs to be where she was last seen. So it looks right. Jesus, I hate this fucking texting. Can’t you get a hearing aid or something?

Looks like what?

We’re wasting time. Check the nursing home and let me know what you find.

You’re not supposed to hurt her.

Yeah, I got that the first time, genius. It’s cute that you like her but I didn’t care then, either. This has to be taken care of a certain way. Director’s orders.

He’d known, hadn’t he? Even if he’d tried to hide from it. The thumb drive alone wasn’t going to be enough. The director wanted her dead.

But… a certain way?

What way?

It’s not your fucking concern, okay? You have one job. The nursing home. Now do it. Don’t think about anything else. I’m doing what I was told to do. You need to do the same.

What were you told to do?

Hey fuck off, okay?

I’m not helping until you tell me.

Hey asshole you want me to tell the director you said that?

Manus didn’t care. He wasn’t going to back down.

Almost a minute went by. Then another text came in:

Make it look random, okay? Like a crime that could happen to anyone, not something targeted. You getting the picture now, idiot? Now, can you get to work, or do I have to call in backup?

Manus felt a cold fury settle behind his ears, in his chest. He held the phone at his side for a moment and flexed his free hand. Then he texted back.

No. I can go to work. Happy to.