Free The Trophy Hunter by J M Zambrano Page B

going to take some time. Dr. Hovac had offered
an anti-depressant prescription that she’d declined. Hmm, maybe
just to get through Christmas.
    When she caught a red light at Iliff, she
heard the screech of brakes behind her, and saw it in her rear
view. A silver pickup truck like the one she’d seen in Flannigan’s
driveway. The Ram ornament almost rammed into her back seat, he was
so close. She could make out a bulky man’s form in the driver’s
seat, but he was wearing a baseball cap pulled low and the collar
of his jacket obscured the bottom half of his face.
    Panicking, she told herself that there must
be dozens, if not hundreds, of silver Dodge Rams in the Denver
area. But how many of them had hood ornaments? As she checked her
door and window locks, she felt her heart lurch and flutter. Joe
Flannigan would have no reason to follow her. Or would he? Could he
possibly blame her for the loss of his grandchildren? She wished
Greenwood Village wasn’t so close to Cherry Hills.
    The light changed to green, and she drove
forward, then made a quick, unscheduled left turn on a yellow
light, heading east. She drove for several blocks, hands gripping
the steering wheel like vises. Just as she thought she’d lost
him─or he was never following her in the first place─she saw
movement through the rear view. Was that a glint of silver again?
She found herself in a residential area of older homes decorated
for the season. And very little traffic. Diana turned left again,
heading back in the direction of the health club.
    Back on Evans after coming full circle, Diana
shakily lowered the driver’s side window and inch and gulped cold
night air. The flow of traffic had picked up. She saw no sign of
the silver Dodge Ram. But, at the next stop light she removed her
cell phone and pepper spray from her handbag, depositing them by
her side in the console cup holder, just in case.
    The light changed, Diana gulped more cold
air, then raised the window as she pulled away from the
intersection.

 
     
     
    Chapter 15
     
    Jess parked her car in the back lot of a porn
shop whose owner she knew. She checked the mag on her little Glock
27, rolled down her right boot and shoved the pistol into her ankle
holster. Being left-handed was a drag sometimes. The leopard boot
rolled up too snugly over the gun. She needed the next size, except
the thrift store didn’t have any others. What the hell, she’d
probably never wear them again. Maybe next Halloween.
    As she slithered out of the car, she also
checked the left boot to make sure her CLIPIT knife was in
place.
    Dare had said the phone booth was at Colfax
and Irving. One block west of Hooker. He’d said it with a straight
face, too. Jess had to giggle at the thought of hooking on Hooker
Street.
    She strolled the three blocks at a leisurely
pace, noting the phone booth under Christmas lights. A couple
arguing in the driveway of a motel across the street caught her
attention briefly. A sister dressed in sweats, with hair the color
and consistency of rusty steel wool was not taking any shit off a
paunchy white guy who looked old enough to be her dad. The Vacancy sign flashed off and on, its V burned out.
    What was it with these old dudes and young
chicks? Jess suddenly felt her age and then some. On the street,
thirty-five was not only over the hill, it was below ground level.
Bargain basement. Damn, the thrift store boots were pinching the
hell out of her toes. And the ankle holster had shifted in the
too-tight quarters. Now the Glock was digging into her shin bone.
Charlie’s Angels this was not. Finishing law school couldn’t have
been this bad.
    “You a cop?” The girl’s words, bitten off on
the cold air, whirled Jess and sent her hand instinctively reaching
toward her boot.
    Then she saw the wisp of a Latina who
could’ve been somebody’s baby sister. She wore dark blue sweat
pants, gray fleece jacket, and running shoes that had maybe once
been white. Hardly the uniform of the