Free Exit Strategy by Kelley Armstrong

this thing about ‘stealing’ me…I’m not exactly a theft-worthy contact. That means you didn’t want me connecting with Evelyn. Why?”
    “Evelyn bores easily. Always looking for projects. You were new. Didn’t need her shit. Now?” He shrugged. “Up to you.”
     
    Jack made sandwiches for lunch while I helped. He didn’t ask what Evelyn wanted, just walked in and started fixing them. The kitchen was as immaculate and well ordered as the living room. It was stocked with staples, but low on perishables, giving the sense that Evelyn ate out more than she cooked. What perishables I saw were all of the “graband-eat” variety, like fruit, breads and cold cuts—things for snacks and quick lunches.
    As we ate, Evelyn told us what she’d dug up. Kozlov’s early record showed a few sporadic arrests, but no convictions. That changed when a twenty-one-year-old liquorstore clerk had refused to sell to Kozlov. Already staggering drunk, Kozlov broke a bottle and slashed the young man. Kozlov ran. The kid bled to death. The DA had argued for murder, but Kozlov’s lawyer plea-bargained down to a ten-year manslaughter term. After his parole, he hadn’t been heard from again until he wound up dead on his living room floor.
    With the others, we didn’t get so lucky. When the first victim, college student Alicia Sanchez, had been killed, one paper speculated a drug connection, claiming Sanchez had been racking up frequent-flier miles at local drug hangouts. It was later revealed that she had attended exactly one campus party where several students, excluding Sanchez, were arrested for marijuana possession. Victim number two, Carson Morrow, had been arrested on loitering charges following a sit-in protest during his own college days. The charges were later dropped. Attending a pot party and a protest rally—neither classifies as a hanging offense.
    “So the easiest link is out then,” I said. “But if it was that obvious, the Feds would already be on it. We need to look wider—unreported criminal activity or…” I looked down the list. “Given that most of these don’t seem like criminal types, a direct link might not be the answer.”
    “Warning hits,” Jack said.
    I nodded. “Whether they were the target or messages to the target, it still seems too random for a single job.”
    “Might not be.”
    “Then why connect them with a calling card?”
    “Advertising.”
    Evelyn cut in. “There are a few ways a hitman can make a name for himself, fast. One is to leave a calling card, preferably something only the mark’s associates will find and recognize. When Jack started, I wanted him to use the jack of spades—”
    “Not my style.”
    “You have no style, which is why you refused. The way I would have done it would have been subtle. That’s the key. Not like this Helter Skelter thing.” A twist of her lip. “This is crass. And reckless. He’s obviously doing more than working through a job list.”
    “Maybe the point,” Jack said. “Advertise big. Advertise wide.”
    I scanned the printouts on Joyce Scranton. Though the press conference had been held only an hour ago, people had already dug up and posted everything they could find on the latest victim.
    I looked up from the pages. “How far is Pittsburgh from here?”
    “’Bout…” Jack squinted, then looked at Evelyn. “Five, six hours?”
    “And we pass through Ohio. Perfect. We can check out Kozlov’s town, then move on to Pittsburgh, see what we can dig up on Joyce Scranton.” I lifted the page. “She was living in Boston, but she’s a recent transplant. All her family is in Pittsburgh. We can ask around, get a feel for the woman and her life.”
    Evelyn eased back into the sofa. “Waste of time.”
    Jack glanced my way. I looked back, my face impassive.
    He studied me for a moment, then pushed to his feet.
    “Gotta start somewhere,” he said. “Dee? Grab your jacket.”

 
    NINE

    Norfolk was a city of about thirty thousand within