Lisa Scottoline - Think Twice

And her intent was to kill.

Alice and Knox ran to the car, amid mass confusion. Sirens blared everywhere. Smoke fogged the air. A loudspeaker barked. Airport personnel in reflective vests bolted toward the fires. At the limo stand stood a black Town Car, with its front door and trunk open.

“No driver!” Alice called out, reaching the driver’s side. She caught a glint of keys in the ignition. “He left the keys. Get in.”

Knox slammed the trunk closed, then jumped into the passenger seat.

Alice twisted the keys in the ignition and hit the gas. She sped out of the lot as police cruisers sped directly toward them in the same lane.

“Move over!” Knox yelled. “We drive on the other side!”

Alice steered into the other lane. “Tell me how to get out of here.”

“Go left.” Knox pointed, and Alice took the turn, then zoomed for the exit gate just as a red fire truck raced toward them, its headlights blinding. She veered around the fire truck and hit the main road leaving the airport, then reached a fork.

“Where now?”

“Right, then left.” Knox pointed again.

Alice zoomed onto a side road and kept driving until the car rental places and businesses disappeared. She found herself in a neighborhood of small, run-down houses, their pastel hues faded and peeling. People were going to their cars and into the street to see what was happening at the airport, so she kept driving until she spotted a clearing with a dirt road. She pulled over, stopped the car, and looked over at Knox, who looked nervous in the lights from the dashboard.

“Now you gotta step up,” Alice said. “I need an employee at BSB. You have to find me one.”

“I know no one.”

“Think harder. You have to know someone who knows someone.”

“How much is it worth to you?” Knox’s eyes glittered. “I know you’ve got more in that bag.”

“Five grand.”

“Twenty.”

“Ten.”

“Fifteen.”

Alice faked a smile. “Don’t push me.”

“Fine.” Knox paused. “My cousin’s friend might know someone, but I’m not sure.”

“Then make the call.”

Bennie spotted an orangey brightness blazing in the distance as the helicopter began its uneven descent. She couldn’t tell what it was, but it didn’t matter. The pilot flicked a switch, and a bright cone of white light shone from the helicopter onto an empty lot strewn with rubble, weeds, and broken glass.

She held on to the handstrap as the ground got closer. Winds swirled, whipping bugs into the spotlight, and the helicopter hovered, seesawing, then touched down. The pilot flashed her a thumbs-up and twisted a knob. The rotors slowed, and the whine died down and finally disappeared. The helicopter shuddered as its engine shut down.

The pilot slid off his earphones, with a broad grin. “It’s better in the Bahamas.”

“Where are we?”

“Adelaide, southwest of Nassau. The land belongs to a friend of mine. I’ll be staying here tonight, at his place.” The pilot turned. “Did you see that fire at the airport? Looks like a disaster.”

Bennie mulled it over. An airport fire. Was Alice here? Was it a coincidence? “I have to get into Nassau, fast.”

“My buddy and I can give you a lift there. It’s half an hour by car. We got another friend, runs an all-night poker game.”

“Then let’s go.” Bennie grabbed her purse, opened the rattly door, and climbed out of the helicopter as the pilot came around the other side, holding a canvas bag.

“Watch your step. Lots of crab holes around here. You’ll see the shells, lying around. Purple, red, black ones.”

Bennie saw a hole, but no crab shells. The lot was dark, and the only light came from a dilapidated clapboard house, a hundred yards away. “Is that your friend’s place?”

“Yeah. Take my hand. Don’t walk into a tree, there’s plum and sea grapes. That’s what you smell.”

Bennie didn’t smell anything, and she didn’t come here for the flora and fauna. “Listen, there’s one other thing I need.”

“Sure, what?”

She told the pilot, and he didn’t seem at all surprised.

Alice set the gun on the seat, near the door, while Knox talked on his cell phone to his cousin. They sat in the dark parking lot of a Chen’s Food Store, a run-down affair. The store was closed so the lot was empty, but the streets buzzed with traffic heading to the airport. A light blue police cruiser tore past, its red lights flashing, then a gray cruiser with a crown on the door, which read CENTRAL POLICE. Every cop on the Bahamas had to be at the airport, and the sirens blared continuously.

“Oh, you’re at FirstBank now?” Knox was saying. “Congratulations, Letty. Auntie Jane didn’t mention it.”

Alice whispered, “Ask her for someone who’s still there. Get a name.”

Knox said into the phone, “Letty, do you know anyone still there? You in touch with anyone? It’s important.”

Alice fished in the console and found a pen and pad with the name of the limo company.

“Who? Say again. Sure, I remember her. Do you have a phone number and address?” Knox read off the information, and Alice wrote it down. “Thanks, Letty. Love to all.” He flipped the phone closed. “The name’s Julie Cosgrove. I know her.”

“How?” Alice set down the paper and turned the key in the ignition.

“We went to high school together. She had a crush on me.”

“How do we get to her house?”

“It’s near Cable, on the way to Nassau.”

“Let’s go. Direct me.”

“Do you want to call first?”

“No, better to drop in.”

“Take the first right, then.” Knox opened the cell phone. “I must call my wife. What can I tell her?”

“Tell her you’re helping at the airport. You’ll be home by morning.” Alice pressed the gas and steered out of the parking lot. She logged the address into the car’s navigation system, and a white arrow popped onto a screen that was affixed to the dashboard.

“Turn right in three hundred feet,” said the soft, mechanical voice.

Bennie stood in front of an AK-47, an M3, two 30-30 hunting rifles, and three revolvers, all of which were arrayed on a grimy blanket on the ground, like a makeshift display case.

“Not much of a selection, eh?” the pilot asked, and the other man, John Something, chuckled.

“Like I said, it ain’t Newark.” He was a stocky young American with a shaved head and a neck tattoo that read Johnny Angel, and he had on an old-fashioned surfer T-shirt with jeans. The cinder-block shed belonged to him, and it was crammed with old lawn mowers, harrows, bush hogs, and an ancient tractor, its hood cracked open like a crab shell.

“How much is this one?” Bennie asked, picking up the Smith & Wesson. It was an older model, probably a forerunner of her own, which she kept at home in a gun safe, trigger lock and all. She’d never fired hers outside of a lesson, but it had been easy to kill the bad-guy silhouette that would come zipping up to her, his paper heart tattered into a busted star.

“The S &W?” Johnny Angel said. “Three hundred.”

“Fair enough.” Bennie dug the cash out of her purse, counted it off, and handed it over.

“You got six bullets in there. You need more?”

“If I do, I’m in trouble.”

“Ha!” Johnny Angel laughed, and the pilot clapped him on the back.

“Thanks, man. Wanna come out with me and Tomboy? He’s in the car.”

“What’s he doin’, smokin’ up?”