Free Kill Her Again (A Thriller) by Robert Gregory Browne Page A

case.
    Something about it all that just . . . fit.
    She wasn’t sure how—wouldn’t even try to guess why—but she knew that she was meant to be here. Meant to be part of this.
    Thoughts of sideshow psychics once again rose from the back of her brain. Maybe she was psychic after all.
    Or just plain nuts.
     
    W HEN SHE RETURNED to Pope’s room, the so-called hotel doctor was finishing up his exam. He was an old guy, with rheumy eyes, who smelled faintly of Preparation H and carried the distinct air of a man who, at one time in his career, would have been perfectly comfortable performing backroom abortions.
    “Vital signs are all stable,” he said, rising from the side of the bed. “He’ll be fine in an hour or two. Best thing now is to let him sleep.”
    Stuffing a stethoscope into his black bag, the doctor nodded to Anna and Pope, then headed back to the casino or wherever it was he’d come from. When the door closed behind him, Anna turned and told Pope about the phone call with Worthington, immediately broaching the subject of babysitting.
    Pope balked. Big-time.
    “Do I look like I’m equipped to take care of a kid?” He gestured to their surroundings.
    “Worthington said you wouldn’t mind.”
    “Nice of him to consult me first. But that’s Jake for you. Always trying to keep me engaged. He hasn’t quite accepted the fact that I’m a lost cause.”
    “A lost cause with a flair for the dramatic,” Anna said.
    Pope frowned. “That’s why I do a show six nights a week. You want tickets?”
    “What I want is for you to keep an eye on Evan.”
    Pope shook his head. “I promised Jake two hours. No more, no less.”
    “Then you still have some time left. It’s only until social services gets here. I wouldn’t leave him, but—”
    “Then don’t.”
    “Look,” Anna said, studying him intently. “I don’t know if you’re enjoying this woe-is-me act, or you just can’t help yourself, but I saw the way you interacted with Evan, and I know you know exactly what he’s going through right now.”
    Pope faltered a bit. Seemed thrown by her assessment of him. “So what’s your point?”
    “Just do the right thing, okay? Watch him until someone comes to pick him up, so I can go help Worthington snag the son of a bitch who did this to him.”
    Pope stared at her a moment, then shifted his gaze to the sleeping figure on the bed. Evan looked smaller and more fragile than ever.
    Then Pope went away for a while, and Anna knew he was lost in a memory. Something bittersweet. Painful.
    When clarity returned, he looked at her again. He’d made his decision.
    “All right,” he said. “Go.”
    “Thank you.”
    Pope shook his head and stared out his window at those ever-present prison lights.
    “Just do us all a favor and catch the motherfucker.”
     

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    T HEY USED THE tried-and-true dog-walker ploy.
    They waited in two unmarked vans, parked about a block and a half from the strike zone, Anna cramped in back with Royer, who still had the remnants of an angry scowl on his face.
    Despite their close proximity, he had managed to avoid saying a word to her since she’d returned from the Oasis. It occurred to her that they wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t spotted Evan in the first place, but doubted that this meant much to Royer. Their partnership, such as it was, was over.
    Anna shifted uncomfortably. The air in this godforsaken town had not gotten any cooler and she figured the temperature inside the van was a good two degrees hotter than it was outside. Sweat tricked down her back and along her armpits, and judging by the smell, she wasn’t the only one feeling the heat.
    Even the Oasis would be better than this.
    Although he was ignoring her , Royer had made it clear to Worthington that he thought this operation was a mistake. Back at the Fairweather house, he’d urged the deputy to wait for him to call in a bureau strike team, a suggestion that hadn’t set well with anyone