The Key

50

Dick had intimidated his way to the front of the taxi queue and given the driver a story about how a buddy of his had been arrested. The driver’s English was pretty sketchy, but he’d understood enough and they were now following the police cruiser at a safe distance. Dick glanced up from time to time to make sure it was still there, in between composing an email detailing everything that had happened so far. He knew from the girl’s file that she worked as a crime reporter so he assumed her ride must be an acquaintance. It didn’t appear to be a heavy-duty protection detail, it was much too casual for that. Maybe he was her boyfriend, in which case it was bad news for him. Dick had a schedule to keep and anyone who got in the way would become collateral damage. Whoever it was, he hoped he was taking her somewhere quiet, maybe somewhere with a basement — that would be best.

He finished the email and read it through, checking he hadn’t missed any details. Then he attached the photograph he’d taken of the book the girl had been reading. It might not be important, but that wasn’t for him to say. Finally satisfied, he hit send and watched until it had gone.

Up ahead, the police cruiser curved off the expressway on to McCarter Highway. There wasn’t much traffic at this time of night and it was easy to keep tabs on them. He told the driver to ease back a bit. After a mile or so the taillights flared and the car turned off. The driver started to speed up, but Dick told him not to. He could see they were heading east into the Ironbound district and he remembered something from the girl’s file that told him exactly where she was going.

‘Welcome home,’ he said, too quiet for anyone but himself to hear. ‘Welcome home.’