Mint Cookie Murder (8 page)

Emmanuelle looked at it. She just stood there, immobile, frozen in time. I wondered if she got trapped between dimensions on occasion.

"What?" I asked. "That's the card."

"It's only, like, a centimeter by a millimeter or something," the girl said.

"So?" I shrugged.

 She set the tiny chip down and walked over to the kiosk. Emmanuelle wiped the dust away with her arm, then extracted a tray the size of a candy bar. There was a slot in it. The girl held up the SD card—it was way too small. Dammit.

My cell rang.

"Hey Riley," I answered.

"You were supposed to be here half an hour ago!" He didn't sound happy.

"On our way now." I ended the call, took the tiny SD card from the girl, apologized for wasting her time, and thanked her. Kelly drove while I simmered in silence.

"Do you want to go home first?" Kelly asked.

I shook my head. "What for? To see that Rex's car isn't in his driveway? That the house is dark? That would suck."

"We don't know anything," my best friend said firmly.

"No. We don't. I'd just rather go back to the yarn shop and be miserable, please."

"You're getting yourself all worked up for nothing," Kelly said.

"Yes, I am." Might as well admit it.

"You're being ridiculous. There are real problems in the world, you know. People have worse problems than you." Kelly frowned.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Nothing," she snapped. That was a little harsh. I remembered that she'd been grumpy earlier and wondered what was wrong with her. Unfortunately, she gave me the impression that she wouldn't talk about it if I asked. There was no point in asking when she was like this.

My misery was working itself up into a nice little migraine. The stupid headlights in the side view mirror weren't helping.

I sat up very slowly and looked carefully in the mirror, trying not to arouse suspicion. A dark sedan was following us.

"Turn left up here," I said calmly.

Kelly did as asked. I noticed she stiffened in her seat and started glancing in her rearview mirror.

"No sudden movements," I said. We turned left and drove to the end of the block. The sedan followed us.

"Turn left into this alley," I said.

Kelly did as directed. The sedan did not follow. She breathed a sigh of relief as we came out the other end. She turned right to head toward the yarn shop.

The car reappeared in the mirror.

"He's back," I said.

"What do we do?" Kelly asked a little anxiously.

She'd never been in any kind of shoot out. But she was an emergency room nurse, so she'd have nerves of steel.

"Take four lefts in a row," I said. Was it Bobb? I wondered.

Kelly took the first left. Then the second and third.

"Won't he know that we know he's following us?" She asked as she took the fourth left turn. The sedan stayed with us the whole time.

"Yes. But I think he already knows that." I said, never taking my eyes off the car behind us. It was too dark. I couldn't see the driver. Dammit.

I dialed my cell. Riley answered on the first ring.

"We're being followed. Dark sedan. No front license plate," I said automatically, shifting into spy mode.

"Where are you?" Riley's voice took on that same tone. We were working. This was real—just like the old days.

"About five blocks from the safe house," I said. No point in naming it or giving an address, just in case Bobb was somehow listening. For a brief second I worried about Philby. Then I felt a little stupid for that. Riley was with him. I needed to worry about me and Kelly.

"Drive past it. Go to the grocery store up the street. I'll meet you in the freezer section," he said before ending the call.

I relayed the instructions to Kelly, and she followed the directions. We parked and went in quickly. I didn't want to get caught in the dark in a parking lot. Once inside I grabbed a cart, and we made our way to the freezer section.

Kelly said nothing but put two bottles of wine into the cart. I smiled at that. We probably would need a drink afterwards. We stalled in the ice cream section, acting like it was a really tough decision between Häagen-Dazs and Ben & Jerry's (which, of course, it would be).

"So…" Kelly said as she checked the reflection in the freezer doors to see if anyone was sneaking up on us. "What do we do?"

I pulled out my phone and hit the camera function, scanning the opposite direction so it looked like I was just checking text messages.

"Riley's probably in the parking lot checking to see who's in the car. He'll come in and tell us what's up."

We'd played this game before…in Somalia, in Buenos Aires, and at a weird little farmers' market in Reykjavik. It usually worked the same way. The vegetables were a little different, that's all. I liked frozen foods though. You could seriously injure someone using a frozen pizza as a concussion Frisbee or just braining someone with a frozen turkey.

Riley appeared with a basket over his arm. He moved slowly, checking out the frozen dinners. From the look on his face I guessed he'd found the whole section horrifying. After a few seconds of lingering looks at the frozen blueberries, he joined us.

"There's no one in the car. I called the back plate in, but I suspect it won't lead us anywhere," he said quietly.

"Oh, yippee," I said. "That means he's here." I picked up a tube of frozen sausage and weighed it in my hands. It would make a nice bludgeon.

"Kelly, go get in your car, and go home," I said.

"I don't think so." My friend selected two small, frozen turkey breasts, one in each hand.

Riley broke character and looked at her. "Seriously. Listen to Wrath. Go home. Put the car in the garage and lock the doors. It's too dangerous for you here."

Kelly shook her head. "Nope. Besides, someone could get hurt. You might need a nurse."

"Don't be ridiculous! Go home!" I insisted.

"No." Kelly gave me that look, and I knew there was no point arguing any further.

I shrugged at Riley. "She stays."

Riley ground his teeth. "Perfect."

Ffffffffffffffffffffffffffft!
A silenced round hit the display case next to us.

Riley and I dropped to the floor, dragging Kelly with us. We knew that sound. That was a bad sound. Above us, a small hole had formed in the glass door, and an explosion of Rocky Road ice cream framed it, which was a terrible waste. This was followed immediately by the lights going out, even in the freezers. Looked like there'd be no ice cream tonight.

"Do you think anyone heard that?" I asked.

"Heard what?" Kelly asked. She spotted the small hole in the case. "Oh."

"I guess that answers my question," I mumbled.

"Did you see the people who shop this late?" Riley asked. "A zombie has more energy."

A bored, male voice came on the loudspeaker, directing people to the main exit due to the power failure. Emergency lights came on in a few places. We heard footsteps and the few shoppers who were out at this hour grumbling as they made their way out. By that time, the three of us were headed toward the loading dock as quietly as we could.

Whoever was shooting at us hadn't popped out to say hello, so we figured we'd just find our own way out. I took the lead, Riley the rear, with Kelly in between us. I didn't care if I was the target—there was no way I'd let my best friend get caught up in this.

Riley was the only one with a gun. Kelly and I at least had our frozen food weapons. We heard no other shots as we passed through baked goods, although I did eye the carrots in produce. Unfortunately all they had were baby carrots—which would take too much time to kill someone with. A watermelon and cantaloupes would work for hurling, but if we could get out unscathed, that seemed to be the better plan.

We passed through the plastic strips that passed for a door to the employees-only entrance to the dock. It was empty. The employees must've gone out the front with the customers. It looked like your standard, boring, cement holding area. Food and other items were stacked against the walls.

"Did you see anyone?" Riley asked as we regrouped.

Kelly shook her head.

"Nope," I answered. "And only one shot too. Was it a warning?"

"What kind of assassin gives you a warning shot?" Kelly asked. She was right. That did seem pretty stupid.

"The door…" Riley waved his gun toward our exit, and we crept toward it, keeping low and against the walls.

A silenced shot buzzed by, and the three of us dove behind a large pile of giant bags of dog food.

"Everyone okay?" Riley whispered. Kelly and I nodded. No one was hit.

Ping! Ping! Ping!

Shots hit the bags above and in front of us, causing a hailstorm of dry dog food to shower down on our heads. He'd found us. The exit door was 20 feet away, but we'd be in the open.

"Sounds like a silenced rifle," I said quietly. I looked at Riley's .45. We were outmatched if the gunman was out of range.

"Suggestions?" Kelly asked as three more shots were followed by more raining dog food.

Riley nodded. "I'll run to the left. Draw fire. You two run like hell to the door. Maybe he'll expose himself, and I can hit him."

I shook my head as I rummaged through my purse. "Hand me that broom," I asked Kelly. She grabbed a broom on her right. With all the dog food on the floor now, they would need a backhoe for this mess. I shoved some chewing gum into my mouth and unscrewed the handle from the brush. I motioned for Kelly to hand me her purse, and she did. I found her mirror and using the gum, stuck the mirror onto the handle.

Our shooter would notice a mirror popping up over us. But we might get lucky and catch a glimpse if we slid it along the floor on one side. Riley nodded and got as close to the right edge as he could. I slid the broom handle to him, and he held it out. After a few seconds, a shot blew the mirror to bits, but Riley smiled. He'd seen the shooter. Kelly and I dropped our frozen food weapons and waited.

Riley crouched with his gun, then darted out the left side and fired three shots in quick succession. We heard someone cry out, and I had to grab hold of Kelly to keep her from going back to help. It was a struggle all the way to the door and out into the parking lot.

Riley covered the door while Kelly and I ran to her car out front of the store. A tiny crowd was still standing around. They'd have heard Riley shooting, and the police were probably on their way. The dark sedan was parked a few spaces away, but it was empty.

We got into Kelly's car and drove around to the back where Riley was supposed to be waiting. Where he wasn't.

"What do we do?" Kelly asked. She was panting. She'd handled her first gunfight like a trooper, but I wish she'd never had to.

"I'll go in," I said. "You wait here. If anyone besides me or Riley comes through that door, drive like hell, and don't stop until you get home!" She looked like she wanted to argue. "I mean it Kelly. This time, you'll do what I say!"

"Fine," she agreed. The fight was out of her. She was exhausted and done.

I slipped into the loading dock area and found Riley standing by the entrance to the store, not far from where we'd been hiding. He was looking at a puddle of blood. There was no trail.

"Where is he?" I asked, looking around.

"Not here," Riley said. "And we shouldn't be either. Let's go." He grabbed my arm and guided me outside to Kelly's car. We got in and drove slowly around to the front lot. The crowd was still there, but the sedan wasn't. That bastard had gotten away.

I climbed into Riley's SUV, and we followed Kelly home, making sure she got into the garage without being followed. Then we drove to the yarn shop. Suzanne was waiting, even though the shop was closed. She let us in and left.

Philby came over and sniffed us. Once he realized the smell was dog food, he glared at us and walked away. We were covered in brown, dry dust that itched and stank.

"I know we need to talk about this, but can I take a shower first?" I asked.

Riley nodded. I rummaged through the bag he'd brought, grabbing what I needed, and once in the bathroom, locked the door behind me. It was small—just a stand-up shower stall, a sink, and a toilet. I didn't care.

The hot water felt incredible as it streamed down my face. I lingered a little longer than I should have, but it felt so good. I was exhausted. This day had been a lot longer than I thought. I was too tired to think of Rex and Angela or of Kelly and Riley. My brain was a little fuzzy as I brushed my teeth and climbed into a T-shirt and sweatpants that Riley must've liberated from my room.

"Your turn," I said as I tossed him the shampoo. He already was holding a towel. It was kind of thoughtful of him to think of everything, right down to my deodorant. Most men would probably just bring their stuff and expect you to use it—which I would—but he didn't.

I stretched out on the bed as I heard the shower turn on. Philby came over and sat next to me. His eyes focused on mine like he was trying to tell me something. But my brain was too fuzzy to focus. Besides, he was probably just trying to tell me how much he hated me. I could figure that out on my own.

Exhaustion started in a wave from my legs and arms to my eyelids. The sound of the shower was hypnotic. I reached over to the cat and started scratching under his chin. His eyes bulged, and some weird, inner lid started to close up. As his eyes went crossed, he started to purr. Loudly. The vibrations were making the bed shake.

Huh. Maybe he didn't hate me so much. I continued scratching, and he stretched his neck out until I was supporting his whole body just by his chin. The purring grew louder, and the bed vibrated. It was very soothing. I don't remember passing out. But somewhere along the line, I did.

I was having this weird dream that an elephant was standing on my chest, crushing my lungs. I woke up gasping to find not a pachyderm but an obese Hitler cat lying on me.

Riley was sitting at the desk, typing on the computer. He was wearing nothing but a pair of navy blue pajama bottoms. His blond hair was damp and wavy. His tanned back was nicely muscled and flexed a little as he worked. The room smelled of clean linen. Must've been his aftershave or something. It was nice.