After that, the little car could find a place to turn around and cross over to the westbound lanes, where it should have been in the first place.
Their little caravan moved steadily toward the crossroads.
Kim didn’t have enough clear distance to pass the semi, even if she’d been willing to take the risk that the sedan’s driver wouldn’t do something even crazier than driving in the wrong direction.
The sedan might stop.
Or try to make a U-turn.
Or something even less predictable.
What the hell was that driver thinking?
So Kim held onto her patience, slid back into her lane, and followed along behind the big rig, hoping the sedan would pass by them uneventfully.
She glanced at the digital clock on the dash. How long would it take?
But the motorcycle couldn’t see the silver sedan from his position behind Kim. Nor could he see the crossroads. He seemed not to realize the impending danger.
As the big rig slowed, the motorcyclist revved up and pulled out around Kim’s Lexus to pass.
When he got into position for an unobstructed view ahead, he must have seen the same sedan headlights traveling toward him in the eastbound roadway that Kim and the truck driver had seen.
But the motorcyclist made the opposite choice.
He didn’t slow down and get behind her.
Instead, he sped past Kim like a crazy kamikaze playing a deadly game of chicken.
She sucked in a quick breath, holding it until her chest hurt and she remembered to exhale.
“Otto? Talk to me. What the hell’s going on there?” Gaspar raised his voice through the speaker.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Wednesday, May 11
Carter’s Crossing, Mississippi
3:30 p.m.
Magnolia Street was rather grandly named for the sketchy neighborhood. Maybe one or two of the quintessential Southern trees had sprouted here back in the day when the streets were being laid out and graded. If so, the broad leaves and fragrant blossoms were long gone, and it would take decades to grow new ones if anyone was interested in making an effort.
Which wasn’t as unlikely as it would have been a decade ago. Before Big River Casino sprouted up, bringing jobs and neighborhood gentrification along with it.
The little frame rental house had been cleaned up, roofed, and painted soft yellow. The owner had added a two-car, detached garage. But that’s as far as the home improvements went. The yard was nothing but dried weeds, and the driveway was a dirt rut running through from the road to the garage.
Anybody not from around Carter’s Crossing might think the spring rains would keep the dust down. They’d be wrong. As soon as the rain soaked into the thirsty ground, the yard turned dry and dusty again.
He was alone in the house. He’d been crossing off a few items on his bug-out list each day. He had a long list of loose ends to deal with before Kelham closed.
His operation here had to be shut down and all evidence appropriately disposed of. He hadn’t seen Nina again since they’d parted at the airport in New York. As he’d suggested, she took a few days to drive back to Carter’s Crossing. She’d texted him a few times along the way, but they hadn’t talked again.
Nina had been so beautiful that night. She’d been clever with her hair and makeup as well as her wardrobe. From his position in the shadows, he’d almost let himself believe she was the woman he had loved more than any other. The afterglow had lasted a while, and he was sorry to lose her.
“Snap out of it, man. Nina has served her purpose,” he said aloud, knowing he spoke the truth.
There was no place for Nina where he was going. And he certainly couldn’t leave her behind. He’d made the right decision.
He reached for the silver flask. He’d refilled it with the poison he’d stolen from Kelham. He didn’t expect to need the flask again. As a murder weapon, the poison was effective but clumsy. There were better ways to dispatch his enemies.
Yet, the odorless, tasteless liquid had been challenging to steal. Nothing else was as potent. A lifetime of military service had taught him the value of contingency plans.
He stored the flask at the back of the safe in the bedroom closet, just in case.
Satisfied that he’d secured the poison, he glanced at his watch. He was running behind schedule. He needed to establish an alibi for Nina’s time of death, just in case something went wrong at the scene. An ounce of prevention and all that.
The casino’s poker tables should satisfy that particular requirement handily.
He had a little business to do at the tables, too.
If all went well, Lady Luck might reward him handsomely tonight. The thought lightened his mood.
There were always a few soldiers in the casino’s crowds, along with tourists and locals. All he had to do was be seen at the game for an hour, give or take. Long enough for Nina’s brother, the casino manager, to see him there and remember seeing him later.
The last thing he needed right now was to become a person of interest in Nina’s murder. He’d been having an affair with her for a good long while. The affair had been insurance. Nothing more. But the safest thing was to assume they’d been seen together somewhere. Or that Nina had confided their relationship to her friends.
If Nina lived, sooner or later, he’d have been at risk. He wouldn’t let that happen.
When she died today, he’d be above suspicion. But he’d always been a belt and suspenders guy. Extra caution had never steered him wrong.
He glanced at the open laptop on the desk. Jasper had placed a tracker on Nina’s sedan.
Nina’s cell phone pinged onto his laptop screen as she traveled along the county road toward US 72, exactly as he’d expected, along the fastest and the shortest route to Memphis. The route everybody in Carter’s Crossing drove, especially in bad weather like this.
He slid one of the untraceable pistols and a box of ammo into the safe with the flask. He slipped the pistol with the silencer into his pocket.
“Good girl, Nina,” he said as he took one last look at the laptop screen. Satisfied that his plan was in motion and proceeding as expected, he closed the laptop and stuffed it into the safe.
He pulled out two large stacks of fifty-dollar bills, closed the safe’s door, and engaged the lock.
He’d bought both guns on the streets of Memphis. Neither weapon nor the bullets were in standard use by the army. Which was the reason he’d chosen them. He didn’t want either traced back to him. He simply wanted them available when needed.
His truck was parked in the garage. He grabbed his jacket and slid his arms into it, stuffed the fifties into the breast pocket, and left through the back door. He used his key to turn the deadbolt and then hurried through the drizzling rain.
He stopped to punch the code on the keypad and waited while the big garage door rolled up enough for him to duck under it. He was inside the stolen truck with its big engine growling before the door reached its apex.
He reversed out of the garage and punched the remote to close the door before he backed down the driveway to the street.
His house was on the wrong side of the tracks from Carter’s Crossing. Which meant it was closer to Kelham and to Big River Casino. The clock on the dashboard showed he had enough time to get settled into his poker game with at least ten witnesses before and while Nina died. Which was what mattered.