The Competition - [62]

“Were you in the Marines, Mr. Cutter?” I asked.

“Seventeen years. How did you know?”

“Just a guess.”

38

It was after seven p.m. by the time we got back downtown, and we were both starving. Threat of mass destruction or not, we still needed to eat. I reminded Bailey of Graden’s earlier offer to buy us dinner at the PDC. “If he’s still up for it, we can eat and keep working.”

Bailey nodded. “You make the call. Tell him we’ll meet him there. I’ll drop the laptop off with Nick.”

The sooner Nick got into Evan’s computer, the better. “How about if I ask Twan to join us? We could use a little outside perspective.”

“That’d be great.” Bailey pulled into the parking lot at the PAB. While she went to hand off the laptop to Nick, I called Toni and Graden. Both were on board for dinner. Bailey and I got there first and lucked out with a booth in the Club Car. We’d just ordered Bloody Marys for the table when Toni showed up.

“I’d ask how you are, but why pretend? You all look like hell.” She slid in next to Bailey.

“You, on the other hand, look disgustingly gorgeous,” I said.

“I love that suit,” Bailey said.

“Girl, everyone likes this suit,” Toni said. “It’s Armani. I scored it at a sample sale.”

Toni had fashion sense to spare. I’d never known anyone who managed to look as good as her-and I’m talking twenty-four/seven. She tells me I could do it too. Trust me, I can’t.

She held up her tall glass. “To both of you getting some sleep before you keel over.” We clinked and took healthy sips of our drinks. “Now catch me up.”

We brought her up to speed on the latest developments, ending with the letter. I knew Graden wouldn’t mind us telling Toni about the letter. She was family. We’d just finished describing our last interview with Evan when Graden showed up. He slid in next to me, gave me a warm hug, and smiled at Bailey. “How are you, Toni? Anything new?”

“You mean other than some fool in the parking lot telling me she loved my last concert?”

“Your last…what?” he asked.

Bailey and I rolled our eyes. We didn’t have to hear the story to know what she was about to say-this wasn’t the first time.

“Apparently, Beyoncé and I could be twins.” Graden tried to hold back his laugh, but a short bark leaked out anyway. Toni shook her head with disgust. Other than being black, there was no resemblance whatsoever. “She also told me my hair looked better this way, so I guess the answer is, me and my hair are ‘good.’”

The waiter came and took our orders. We all got the steak and lobster and decided to share two orders of their fabulous steamed asparagus. And, of course, another round of Bloody Marys. We talked about Toni’s case-she was in trial on a kidnap-murder-until the waiter brought our drinks.

We toasted to nailing all of our killers, and then Graden turned to Toni. “I assume they told you?”

Toni nodded, somber. “This case gets crazier by the second.”

Graden rubbed the side of his face. One of his tells when he’s upset. He took a sip of his drink. “Nick called just as I was leaving. He got into Evan’s computer with no problem.”

“Anything?” Bailey asked.

“Not so far.”

Toni jammed the straw into her drink, now mostly ice. “What do your shrinks have to say about all this-the letter, Shane?”

I interrupted. “We haven’t confirmed that Shane’s the second shooter-”

“Whoever. You need to figure out where they’re planning to strike next. Your shrinks might have some ideas. And it looks to me like Logan is the mastermind. This started with a school shooting. That’s all about his motive, not this Shane dude’s. Unless Shane went to Fairmont High-”

“No,” Bailey said. “And I agree. Logan’s got to be the lead sled dog. The letter even sounded like a high school kid.”

“We do need to get with our shrinks,” I said. “But I don’t need them to tell me that Shane’s photo got Evan pretty rattled.”

“Yeah,” Bailey said. “But do you blame him? Shane’s a sketchy-looking character.”

“Can I see?” Toni asked. Bailey pulled up Shane’s photo and handed her the phone. Toni raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sketchy. But hot.”

Graden took Bailey’s phone, looked at the photo, then shook his head. “You call this hot?” He sighed. “Some things I’ll never understand.”

Bailey suppressed a smile. “I’ll call the shrinks first thing in the morning.”

“Let me know what they say,” Graden said. “And you’ll have the unis ask the rest of Logan’s buddies about Shane?”

Bailey nodded. “Already being done. We’ll talk to Caleb and Kenny ourselves, let the unis handle the outer circle.”

“We’ve got to get out ahead of this,” Graden said. “God knows where they’re planning to hit next.”

“We do know one thing,” I said. “It’ll be big.”

On that grim note, the waiter brought our dinners. For which we now had zero appetite.

39

Friday, October 11

I woke up the next morning with an aching head and a gnawing emptiness in my stomach. I’d barely managed to choke down three bites of my steak, so the Bloody Marys had hit pretty hard. On the bright side, my pants were looser. Hell of a thing, this Mass Murderer Diet.

A pale, gray morning light poured through the gap between the drape and the window. I burrowed deeper under the covers to enjoy the warmth for just a minute more. It was almost as cold in the early mornings as it was at night. Keeping the covers tight around me, I snaked out a hand and called in my breakfast order: two eggs over medium, bacon, and toast with a large pot of coffee. Then I threw back the covers and forced myself out of bed.