The Last Alibi

84

Jason

Monday, July 29

I snatch the phone from Shauna before it goes into voice mail and answer the phone.

“Long time, no see, Jason,” says the man who calls himself James Drinker. “Where you been hiding out?”

“Let’s call it an undisclosed location,” I say.

“I get you, I get you. Hey, you’re probably thinking, as long as I don’t know where you are, I won’t do anything else. Is that what you’re thinking?”

I don’t answer. This guy is always a step ahead, always inside my brain.

“Tell me something. How was that pizza? You seem like a garlic kind of guy.”

“Is that right?” Let him talk. Maybe he’ll give something up.

“I’ll give you credit, my man. That was a close one, over there at Linda’s house. Maybe if your knee was feeling better, you’d have caught me.”

“How do you know I’m not watching you right now?” I ask.

He breathes out of his nose, blurring the connection. “No, I don’t think so. Listen, I just want you to know, your plan isn’t going to work. I don’t care where you are. I’m still going to do whatever I want to do.”

“But how do you frame me, then?” I ask. “How do you know I’m not in Hawaii right now? Or with five people who can verify my alibi?”

He gets a good laugh out of that one. “You really don’t get it,” he says. “That’s okay. You’ll know soon enough, Jason Kolarich. I just want you to know: This next one? This next one is going to be my favorite.”