Unlucky 13

Chapter 105

I had my gun out before I exited Rosalie’s Fanfare.

I stood in the doorway, peering out onto Clement Street. I checked out the pedestrians on both sides and stared into the shadows and the glaring sections of pavement.

I was sure that I’d seen a woman who could pass as a teenage boy—a lean five foot six with an angular face, wearing boyfriend jeans and a hoodie, hands in the pockets and possibly holding a gun.

It was Morales. Wasn’t it?

I always said I’d know Mackie Morales in a grizzly bear suit. I’d spent three months with her in her role as a summer intern. She was lethal as a rattlesnake and crazy as a loon.

Yeah, and she was foxy, too.

Had she been staking me out, waiting for a moment when I was alone with Julie, on foot and very vulnerable?

I thought of calling for backup. None would get here in time, and what would I say?

That I’d seen a boylike girl who might be Morales?

No. I needed Conklin. He was my first choice for backup, and not just because he had his own issues with Morales. Also because he would not call me paranoid.

I slapped my right-hand jacket pocket, going for my phone. But my phone wasn’t there. It wasn’t in any of my pockets. What the hell? I slapped my pockets again.

Damn it. Was my phone in the stroller?

And then I remembered taking the picture of Julie, then putting down the phone as I got her ready to go.

Julie. How long had it been since I left her? One minute? Five?

I trotted a half-block to the corner of 10th, checking out people with such a fierce look that many pulled back as if I were crazy. Meanwhile, a lot of people were dressed in jeans and hoodies. Christ, it was practically a uniform for kids of a certain age.

I crossed Clement and doubled back toward 11th.

After five minutes of searching for Morales, the heartstrings that connected me to my daughter like a bungee cord yanked me back to Rosalie’s Fanfare.

I ran like a 49er with the ball, goalposts in sight, in the last seconds of the game.

I dodged and I wove and I sped down the street, homing in on the fashion boutique where my little girl was waiting. I stiff-armed the door—and ran right into Cindy.

She was holding Julie in her arms, staring out the window, waiting for me.

“Cindy. How—?”

“I saw you leaving your place. I called out to you, but you didn’t hear me.”

I hugged Cindy and the baby together, tears coming.

“I followed you,” Cindy said, hanging on to me. “I do that sometimes. Don’t be mad, okay?”

“Mad? She’s out there, damn it. Did you see her? You were right.”

“I didn’t want to be right.”

“Thank you, Cindy.”

We were safe for now—and I had been warned.