Thursday.
Dillon’s call wakes me up at two a.m.
“Are you serious, Dillon? What could you possibly want at this hour?”
“We’ve got a problem.”
I wipe the sleep from my eyes. “What?”
“I got a beep on my tracking program.”
“At two in the morning?”
“It’s Jana Bagger.”
“What about her?”
“Her car just stopped at Fourteen Twenty-Six Riverside.”
“Why does that address sound familiar?”
“It’s her husband’s other house. The one he shares with Darcie Darden.”
“Shit!”
“Should I call the cops?”
“No.”
“Because?”
“Because what if she kills someone and they find the tracking device you put in her car?”
“That would be bad, I suppose.”
“Really? Ya think?”
“What should we do?”
I waste several precious seconds, trying to think it through. Then say, “You’ve still got Max’s car bugged, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“Is he there?”
“Yup.”
“Shit.”
“You said that.”
“I’ll say it again, I expect.”
“Maybe she’s doing her own surveillance,” Dillon says.
“Or maybe she’s waiting for him to come out so she can shoot him.”
“We need to get the tracking devices from their cars,” Dillon says.
“I agree. What are you, fifteen minutes from Darcie’s?”
“Yeah, probably.”
“I can be there in twenty.”
“Want me to meet you out front?”
“No. We should arrive together. Park your car two blocks before you get to Darcie’s. I’ll look for you.”
“There’s a convenience store just off the interstate, right-hand side.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you there.
“Dani?”
“Yeah?”
“Bring your gun this time, okay?”
“I can’t.”
He sighs. “Why not?”
“It’s in my desk drawer. At the office.”
“Shit.”
“That’s my line.”
YOU ARE READING
Promise You Won't Tell?
Teen Fiction"I think something might have happened to me Saturday night. Something bad." Private Investigator Dani Ripper's client list is nuttier than the Looney Tunes conga line, but she diligently solves one crazy case after another, waiting for a game-chang...
