The Missing Ink

Chapter 53

I couldn’t stop and get out to confront him. Not that I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t because of the way the parking garage was configured and the fact that there were two cars coming toward us going in the opposite direction and then it was too late. I’d started down the incline.

The Venetian’s garage had steep entrance and exit inclines-streets-of-San Francisco steep. The ceiling hung low, so it probably would take off the roof of a Hummer, but I was disappointed to see that the Dakota, while large, managed to be barely under the height requirement. I could hear a sort of scraping sound, and I hoped it scratched the crap out of the Dakota’s roof.

I was going too fast. He was right on my back, nudging me forward, and while I usually didn’t hit the accelerator going down, I tapped it and the Mustang lurched forward, tires screeching. I gripped the steering wheel, nudged the brake, and felt the slight impact of the truck on the back of the car as we skidded down the concrete path.

The turn came up fast, and I yanked the wheel around, smelled the rubber, saw the truck looming large in the mirror, sliding along the bumpers of three parked cars.

I didn’t stop at the stop sign, barely glancing to the left as I spun the car to the right, onto Koval Lane.

He didn’t stop, either.

He was gaining on me as I turned right, toward the Strip. This might be a mistake, since traffic was abysmal and pedestrians crowded the intersections, but it could slow him down, and if the traffic gods were with me, I’d sail through a light that would turn red, keeping him from pursuit.

The speedometer inched up higher than I was comfortable with, but I didn’t have a choice. While I’d toyed with the idea of just pulling over and confronting him in the nanosecond before we started down that incline, I wasn’t leaning in that direction now. I just wanted to get away, slow my heartbeat to normal, and then call Simon Chase to find out why, if he was meeting me in a few hours, he felt compelled to show up early and scare the bejesus out of me.

Oh, right. I had the diamond. But he didn’t exactly know that right now.

The light was red ahead of me, where I’d turn onto the Strip. A mass of tourists moved like a slow swarm of bees. The light turned green just as the last pedestrian moved out of my way, and I sped to the left, the Dakota hot on my butt.

This wasn’t the way it was supposed to work.

I squinted ahead and saw the next light was red. And stayed red, the closer I came. Lights on the Strip were longer than James Cameron’s Titanic.

A minivan slipped between me and the Dakota. I could see a slip of smoke coming out of the driver’s-side window of the truck. Simon Chase smoked? Oh, right. All those Europeans were like chimneys. Another thing I could bolster my resolve with when I met him tonight.

If he didn’t manage to get me beforehand.

If he’d wanted to meet earlier, I would’ve been open to that.

The light changed. Cars ahead of me began to crawl toward the next light, which was, remarkably, still green halfway there. I put a little more pressure on the accelerator, spun around the taxicab in front of me. The light blinked yellow, and I threw caution to the wind, weaving around a tour bus as if every nerve ending weren’t on fire, and got through just a second after the light turned red.

A glance in the rearview mirror showed the Dakota stuck behind that minivan.

I resisted the urge to pump my fist and instead took my sunglasses out of the glove box and slipped them on. I went past the Monte Carlo, New York New York, the MGM, and sat at the light at the Tropicana. Where was I going? Home? I was pointed in that direction; I could use a nap.

But the truck was still behind me somewhere. He might figure I’d go home, and I didn’t want to go to a place where he’d find me alone.

My options were limited. I should’ve stayed at the shop with Joel.

A phone rang.

Simon Chase’s phone.

I took it out of my bag and hit the button to answer. “Hello?” I asked, this time not bothering to disguise my voice. He knew I had the phone. It might even be him.

“Brett?”

It was him.

“Yes?”

“Something’s come up. I can’t meet you this evening.” Something came up, all right. I just outran him. I smiled. “That’s too bad. I was looking forward to it.” Considering how fast my heart was pounding, it was amazing my voice didn’t vibrate.

“Me, too.”

“Listen,” I started.

“Yes?”

“Why did Matthew trash my shop, take my safe, beat up one of my tattooists?”

Silence.

I didn’t want to let him off the hook. “I saw you talking to him. At Versailles. And you and he and Elise were all at Viva Las Vegas last night. And why are you driving a Dodge Dakota, and why did you just chase me out of the parking garage?”

He was so quiet, I thought he’d ended the call. Just as I opened my mouth to ask if he was there, he spoke.

“What are you talking about? I’m not driving a Dodge Dakota. I’m in my office, at Versailles. I haven’t left all day.”