Брайан Фриман - Alter Ego

Maggie screamed a warning. She reached for her gun, but her gun was 2,000 miles away in Minnesota. She dived across the short space and shoved the man’s chest with both hands, but she only bumped him a few inches backward. It was like pushing against a horse that didn’t want to move. She tried again, but he was ready for her. He swatted her off her feet with a backhand thump of his forearm. She landed hard on her back on the pavement, and the pain was like a cattle prod to her neck.

Cab jabbed a fist at the man’s face. The blow jerked the man’s head back and bloodied his nose. With a grunt, the man swung the bat again. Cab dodged out of the way, but not quickly enough, and the bat hit him in the meat of his upper arm and knocked him to his knees. The man cocked his arms like a baseball player, but before he could take another swing, Maggie scrambled to her feet and threw herself in his face. She wrapped her arms around his back and sank her teeth into his shoulder. He howled in pain and wrenched free, throwing her to the ground again.

The bat dropped from his hands and rolled.

It rolled right into Cab’s hands, and he picked it up and got to his feet.

“Hi,” Cab said to the man.

Maggie and Cab closed on him from both directions. The man reached for his back pocket, pulled out a knife with a six-inch blade, and slashed the air. Cab swung the bat, and the man jumped back. Cab swung again, and this time the bat caught the metal tip of the knife and sent it flying. The man heard the clatter of the knife and knew he was done. He turned and ran. They watched him go, disappearing into the Naples streets, and they were in no condition to chase him. Cab let the bat fall to the pavement. He grimaced as he rubbed his arm.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I’ll live. How about you?”

“I’ll have a headache tomorrow, but I’ll be fine.”

He came up to her and touched her back, neck, and hair, looking for blood and tender spots. His fingers were surprisingly soft and graceful. She felt along his arm and shoulder but found no breaks. They stayed close to each other. Their skin was bathed in sweat, and they were both breathing hard. The fight had attracted no attention from Tin City. The two of them were still alone near the warehouse.

Eventually, Cab separated himself from her and surveyed the wreckage of his Corvette. He walked through the field of glass.

“Well, it was time for a new car anyway,” he said.

Maggie laughed, but that sent spasms through her neck. “I don’t suppose this was random.”

“Oh, no. This was a message. Stay the hell away from Dean Casperson.”

“Except we can’t prove it.”

“That might be the one advantage we have,” Cab said.

“How do you figure that?”

“He’s arrogant enough to think there’s nothing we can do to him.”

“So what do you suggest?” Maggie asked.

Cab didn’t answer. He went around to the back of the Corvette and pried at the damaged trunk, which opened with a screech of metal. He dug inside and emerged with a look of triumph on his face. There was a bottle of wine in his hand.

“I always keep a bottle of Stags’ Leap in the back for emergencies. Thank heavens it came through unscathed.”

“You really are something,” Maggie told him. “But you haven’t answered my question. What do we do now?”

“First we go to my place and open the wine,” Cab said.

“And then?”

“You’re not going to like it. Remember, you’re still a cop, but I’m not.”

“Tell me,” Maggie said.

“The rich play by their own rules,” Cab replied, “so we need someone who’s willing to beat them at their own game. That’s why I sent Peach up there in the first place. We need to find someone who doesn’t care about the rules. We need someone who’s willing to cheat.”

Cat parked her Honda Civic in the parking lot of the Ordean-East Middle School. Her car was the only vehicle in the lot in the middle of the evening. She and Curt slipped out into the cold. There was no snow, but the gusty wind down the hill almost stole the gray trapper hat from her head. A recycling bin had been blown from someone’s garage and tumbled down the street; it rattled and rolled around on the asphalt. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets and pointed her face down, and they trudged to the corner.

Through the trees on the other side of Fourth Street, she could barely make out the corner of the red brick wall protecting the estate that Dean Casperson was renting. The wall followed Hawthorne Road up the hill. The intersection of the two roads was empty. They had the neighborhood to themselves.

“So now what?” Curt said.

Cat tapped her foot on the sidewalk as she thought about what to do next. “Do you think we can climb that wall?”

“I could boost you up. You should be able to reach the top.”

“Well, let’s see if anything’s going on over there first,” she said.

Cat headed diagonally across the intersection under the glow of a streetlight. She was on the other side of the street from Casperson’s mansion. It was dark here, sheltered by tall bushes. She took deep steps through the snow toward the corner house, which was a white Colonial with a green roof. Curt stayed close behind her. They followed the walkway in front of the house, crossed a plowed driveway, and ducked quickly through the snow in the open yard until they reached the next house. They took shelter behind a tall arborvitae.

From there, they had a vantage across the street to the gated driveway at Casperson’s estate. Lights glowed on either side of the brick columns. A sedan was parked on the street, and its windows were clouded with steam. Every now and then they could see an arm wipe the front window. A guard was watching the gate.

“I don’t think he’s going to invite you inside, kitty cat,” Curt said.

Cat unzipped her coat and grabbed the binoculars that hung around her neck. She put them to her eyes and focused on Casperson’s estate. The angle was wrong to see the house. She could make out the curving driveway and the detached garage, but a stand of evergreens blocked all the windows.

“What can you see?” Curt asked.

“Nothing. This isn’t working.” Cat tapped her foot impatiently again. “What if we sneak into the house that Haley Adams used? She had a view into Casperson’s place. You said you got in there when you were looking for the telescope, right?”

“I barely got out, too. They’ve got private security checking on the place now.”

Cat frowned. She noted the time on her watch and peered through the binoculars again.

“It looks pretty quiet over there,” Curt added. “There’s no party tonight. I’d know.”

“Let’s give it a few more minutes.”

“Okay, but if we’re out here much longer, it’s going to take a blowtorch to thaw out my junk.”

Cat giggled. “You’re on your own with that.”

They stayed where they were, shivering in the cold. The night was silent. Across the street, Casperson’s place remained peaceful. No cars came and went; no one approached the gate. She began to think that Curt was right and Dean Casperson was spending the evening alone.

At ten o’clock, she decided it was time to go.

They backtracked through the snow, but before they broke out of the bushes, headlights shone from the southern direction on Hawthorne Road. Cat held up a hand to stop Curt where he was. She watched as a white limousine glided up the hill from the lake and stopped in front of Casperson’s estate. The security guard got out of the sedan and checked the car and then pushed a button to open the metal gate. The limo backed up, navigated the tight turn, and then drove inside and parked near the front door.