9 The Hitwoman's Downward Dog (14 page)

"Who else will get me crickets?" God said airily, but the fondness he tried to cover up slipped out. "Not the stupid biped. She's too busy juggling all the men in her life."

"That's a woman's prerogative," Piss purred before rubbing the top of her head into me as hard as she could.

She let me hold her for a long moment before asking, "Do you mind putting me down?"

I carefully placed her on the sofa, gathered up the garbage bag I'd packed earlier, and walked out the cellar storm doors with the Doberman following closely on my heels.

I punched the address of the Wild Dog Retreat into my car's GPS system and had just backed out of the driveway when my phone rang. A quick glance revealed an unfamiliar number. Balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder, I drove away from the B&B for what I fervently hoped was not the last time. "Hello?"

"Are you making progress finding Detective Gilbert?" Ms. Whitehat asked without bothering to exchange pleasantries.

"I hope so." I filled her on my theory as to where I thought Joy might be without including the whole bit about being guided by Armani's psychic visions. "I'm headed there now."

"To do what?" Ms. Whitehat asked. "Rescue her from the clutches of one of the most powerful crime families in the state?"

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"Yes." Which technically wasn't true since I had the lizard and dog helping me, but I thought better of sharing that with Whitehat too. "Unless you have a team you can send..." I suggested hopefully. I'd seen the talents of some of the people Ms. Whitehat had at her disposal when I'd helped to take down a human trafficking ring.

Whitehat was silent and hope surged as she considered my request.

When she finally spoke, her tone was even more clipped than usual. "I don't have anyone available."

I frowned, disappointed "Then I guess I'm on my own."

"It would seem so."

"Do you want me to call you at this number when it's over?" I asked, with more confidence than I felt.

"No. I'll be in touch assuming..." She trailed off.

"Assuming I survive," I finished flatly.

Whitehat cleared her throat. "You've repeatedly demonstrated ingenuity and out-of-the-box thinking. I have no doubt you'll do the same in this situation."

My mouth dropped open at the compliment.

"Good luck, Miss Lee." Whitehat disconnected the call.

"No cavalry coming from that corner?" God asked when I tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.

We rode in silence for miles, winding our way toward the Delaware Water Gap. The farther out we got, the more it felt like we were out in the country. I knew the road we were taking.

Patrick had taken the route when he'd first taught me to shoot at a barn out this way. I smiled at the memory of how I'd surprised him with the accuracy of my aim. Maybe the skill would come in handy during this rescue operation.

"Happy Maggie?" DeeDee panted from the back seat.

"Just reliving a memory."

"Patrick about?"

I glanced at her in the rearview mirror, wondering if she'd read my mind. Most of the time she came across as a sweet, but dopey dog, but then there were moments when she seemed to know exactly what I was thinking and feeling. I nodded.

"Teacher good."

"We'll see how good," I murmured, recalling another of Patrick’s rules: Don't Get Dead.

After driving over the bridge and crossing over into Pennsylvania, I stopped at the nearest gas station with two objectives. The first was to fill up my tank so I didn't run out of fuel during the great escape. The second was to change my clothes.

I pulled in front of a gas pump and sat there waiting for an attendant to come out.

My phone rang. I glanced at the display and saw that it was Detective Brian Griswald calling. Considering I was ignoring his request to stay out of the search for Armani, I didn't think it was a good time to answer, so I let it go to voicemail as I tapped the steering wheel impatiently waiting for service.

"I don't think anyone's coming," God finally ventured. "After all, the sign does say Self-Serve."

"Crap," I muttered hanging my head.

"Wrong what's?" DeeDee asked, wedging her head between my head and door, effectively turning the seatbelt into a garrote.

I snapped back in my seat. "Egch!" I tried to push her away as she inadvertently strangled me.

She stubbornly stayed where she was.

"Egch!" I repeated desperately as pain and a lack of oxygen made it impossible to speak.

"Enunciate, biped!" God snapped.

Flailing wildly in my seat, I finally punched DeeDee in the head, which got her to move.

"Hit you me?" DeeDee gasped, stunned by the blow.

Unhooking my seatbelt, I leaned forward, gasping for breath.

"Okay you are?" DeeDee panted worriedly.

"You choked me," I whisper-screamed.

"How?" God asked with a little too much interest.

"With the seatbelt."

"Sorry?" DeeDee whined pitifully, flattening herself against the backseat as though she expected me to wrap the seatbelt around her neck next like some sort of revengeful hangman.

"It's okay. Just don't do it again."

"Are you going to do something about the gas?" God demanded. "The fumes here are killing my brain cells."

I stumbled out of the car, rubbing the spot where my throat had been crushed. I stared at the pump in dismay unsure of how to proceed. I know that makes me sound stupid and incompetent, but it's against the law to pump your own gas in New Jersey, so it had been years since I'd attempted this feat. Between the killer fumes and my near asphyxiation, I was stymied by the process.

Finally, forcing myself to focus, I read the instructions on the pump and after two false starts where I couldn't get the gas to flow, I topped off the tank.

Having accomplished that, I moved on to the second part of my plan. Leaving the animals in the car, I grabbed my garbage bag and went in search of the rest room.

The greasy-haired guy behind the counter gave me a long look when I asked for the key. "You don't got a body in there do you?"

"It would have to be a small body," I countered.

He tilted his head to the side, which gave me a good look at the giant hole he had in his stretched out earlobe. "People dump body parts, kids, stuff."

I shuddered at the atrocities people commit against one another. "No. No bodies."

He handed over the key and I did my best not to think about what horrible things lurked on the porcelain surfaces as I quickly changed clothes.

To keep myself distracted, I thought about Lucky O’Hara. Despite the warnings, including Armani’s Scrabble clue, I didn’t think he was necessarily a bad guy. Just unlucky. After all, it wasn’t his fault he’d been adopted by a dangerous family, any more than it was my fault I’d been born into a crazy one. Poor guy had never stood a chance to have a normal life. I hoped I wouldn’t have to end his.

Returning the key, I could tell the attendant didn't think my head-to-toe black outfit was any better than the jeans and T-shirt I'd worn before, but he wisely kept his opinion to myself.

I couldn't say the same for God.

"What is that supposed to do?" the lizard asked, giving my ensemble the side-eye.

"I'm supposed to look like a yoga doer." I reached under the driver's seat and pulled out the gun Ms. Whitehat had provided. Leaning forward I stuck it in the back of my pants and tugged my oversized T-shirt down to hide it.

"I don't think they call themselves 'doers.' And why couldn't you have changed at home?"

"Because if one of the aunts had seen me dressed in something that looks like a workout outfit, they would have become suspicious."

"You have a point there," the lizard agreed.

"I'm glad you approve," I muttered beneath my breath, starting the car and heading back onto the road.

We followed the GPS for a while longer when, a mile or so from our destination, it suddenly cut out.

"Hey," I shouted, pounding on it with the palm of my hand.

It responded about as well as every other piece of equipment I tried to bully into cooperation with physical threat did, meaning it didn't. I pulled over to the side of the road and tried to find directions the rest of the way there, but I couldn't get a signal on my phone.

"Are you kidding me?" I roared.

DeeDee cowered on the floor of the backseat.

"Your inability to control your frustration level is scaring the dog," God reprimanded mildly.

I looked back at the quivering mound of fur. "I'm not mad at you, DeeDee." My tone was sharper than I would have liked.

She lifted her head and risked a quick look at me.

I could see she didn't believe me. I softened my voice, "Really. God's right. I'm just frustrated because I can't find Armani."

"Why don't you two stretch your legs?" God suggested.

"Walk?" DeeDee panted hopefully.

"Sure." I got out of the car and opened the door. Before I could warn her not to run off, she jumped out and bounded away into the woods. "DeeDee! DeeDee come back!"

She didn't.

I ran two steps after her and felt something smack my butt a millisecond before I heard a solid
thunk
behind me. Whirling around, I realized the gun had fallen out of my pants. It lay on the ground, the setting sun glinting off the barrel like it was a diamond or something. Snatching it up, I was about to yell at God for his stupid idea when I realized a car had rolled to a stop fifty yards behind me. I couldn't see the driver through the sun's glare bouncing off the windshield.

Ice water flowed down my spinal cord, and for a moment, I was paralyzed with fear. We hadn't encountered any other cars on this road, and now one was parked, with the driver watching me.

Instinctively, I tightened my grip on the gun.

"This can’t be good," God opined.

"Ya think?"

"Maybe it’s just a stranded motorist."

"Who happened to get stranded right behind us."

"Maybe their GPS failed too."

"Maybe they’re with the O’Hara’s," I countered. "Maybe whoever he is, he’s the guy who killed Ike Medd."

"So maybe he isn’t all bad," God quipped.

If the situation hadn’t been so fraught with danger, I probably would have smiled. Instead, I scowled.

"Oh my," God mocked. "That’s intimidating, Dirty Harriet."

I turned my glare on him. "Will you
please
shut up?"

When I turned my attention back to the other car, the driver was climbing out. "Stop right there," I shouted, my voice cracking like a teenage boy’s. I raised the gun, taking aim at the center of the man’s chest. "I mean it."

"Safety!" God whispered. "You have to turn off the safety."

I fumbled with the switch.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" a familiar voice boomed as the driver raised his hands overhead in surrender.

I squinted, trying to make out his face. Not that I needed to. I knew that voice.

"I know you're Archie Lee’s kid and all," Jack Stern continued, "but I don’t think you could kill anyone."

Showed what the know-it-all reporter knew. Hysterical laughter bubbled up in my throat and it took everything I had to swallow it. I lowered the gun to my side.

Jack stepped closer so that I could see his face. "What are you doing out here?"

"Were you following me?"

"Of course I was following you. How else would I have ended up in the middle of nowhere?" Jack moved closer, glowering like I was somehow responsible for his choice to be here.

"Don’t you dare blame me for this." I pointed at him angrily, unfortunately it was with the hand that was still holding the gun.

"Hey," Jack protested, freezing in his tracks.

"Is the safety on?" God asked.

"Can you point that thing somewhere else?"

I complied by putting carefully putting the weapon on the top of the car.

"Where’d you get that thing?"

Since I couldn’t tell him that the head of a mysterious organization who sometimes blackmails me to do her bidding had given the gun to me, I didn’t answer him.

Since he didn’t get a response, he tried another tact. "Why’d you change your clothes at the gas station?"

"You were there?"

"Well yeah. That’s how tailing someone works. You looked so befuddled I almost got out and pumped the gas for you."

"Such a gentleman," I drawled sarcastically.

"You’re going to give
me
attitude?" He stared at me incredulously. "Despite Detective Griswald’s orders and my suggestion to stay out of this, you’re out here chasing down God knows what."

"I do, in fact, know what," the lizard interjected.

I ignored the little guy and focused on the bigger guy, who looked like he wanted nothing more than to wring my neck. "That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. You couldn’t come up with any leads of your own, so you had to latch onto mine."

"So you
do
have a lead." He grinned triumphantly. "So where’s your friend?"

Before I could reply, there was tremendous crashing sound in the woods and it was coming toward us.

"Grab the gun!" God yelled. "It’s Bigfoot!"

I didn’t really think it was Bigfoot, but I did grab the gun as the noise grew closer.

"It’s probably just a deer," Jack suggested weakly.

I raised the gun toward the crashing just as a black blur emerged from the woods and made a beeline for me.

"Don’t shoot!" the lizard screamed as my finger wrapped around the trigger.

"Found Armani I," DeeDee barked excitedly as she skidded to a stop at my feet. "Found Armani I."

"Don’t look it in the eye," Jack whispered. "If you do, he’ll take it as a challenge and attack."

Lowering the gun to my side, I assured him, "
She
is not attacking. She’s found Armani."

"Her found," DeeDee panted. "Her found."

"Yes, I know. I heard you. The whole forest probably heard you," I told her.

Noticing the gun in my hand, she growled, "Gun bad. Bad. Bad. Bad."

"Are you sure she’s not going to attack?" Jack whispered worriedly.