Luke Murphy - Dead Man's Hand

They threw some cash on the table and sprinted from the diner. Dale jumped in the passenger side. “You drive.”

With Watters in the back, Jimmy peeled out of the parking lot while Dale stayed on the line with Mitch, who was relaying Linda’s coordinates.

“We’re getting closer.”

“Call for back up,” Jimmy said.

With the cell phone still pressed to his ear, Dale grabbed the car radio and had dispatch locate four cars to join the tail. He gave them the exact location and made sure they followed his direct orders.

“She’s stopped, Jimmy.” Dale gave the coordinates. “Pull over here.”

Jimmy slowed the car and killed the lights. “There’s Duncan and Smith.”

Dale saw two undercover cars parked on a side street. In the rearview mirror, he saw two more cars pull up. “Everyone’s in position.”

Linda’s limo was parked beside a pump of a deserted roadside gas station. The lights were off inside the building and the only light came from the low-watt bulb of the corner streetlight.

“What’s she doing out here?” Watters asked.

“I don’t know. But I see a set of headlights.”

They watched as an unfamiliar car pulled up beside the limo.

Dale picked up the car radio. “Nancy, I need a plate check.”

“Go ahead.”

“Nevada tags—zero, nine, six, four, apple, brandy.”

He continued to watch the scene as the dispatch operator located the information.

“The car is registered to a Mr. Gene Lockhart.”

“He’s a pit boss at the Golden Horseshoe,” Watters interrupted.

Dale eyed Watters in the rearview mirror. “You know him?”

Watters nodded. “He’s not a killer, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Sanders might have asked him to pick up Linda,” Jimmy said.

Dale shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“What are you thinking?” Jimmy asked.

“I hadn’t expected Sanders to do anything in his Ferrari, known all over Vegas. Linda wouldn’t meet a total stranger in a deserted area at night.”

“You think that it’s Sanders?”

Dale didn’t respond.

The limo door opened and Linda stepped out. She approached the idling 2004 Toyota Corolla, opened the door and climbed inside.

When the passenger door opened, the interior light didn’t go on, but Dale didn’t need confirmation. “She’s going with Sanders. Let’s move,” he said into the two-way radio.

The bumper-lock surveillance was all they could do for now.

“Keep a safe distance, Jimmy.” Dale spoke into the radio. “Stand down, everyone and stay back. Follow my lead.”

“Whose car?” Linda asked.

“A friend’s,” Ace replied, checking his rearview mirror before pulling out.

“Kind of paranoid, having my driver pick me up two blocks from my house.”

Ace ignored her remark. “Your hit man failed.” He sneered. “Where did you find him anyway?”

Linda smiled. “I’m not just another pretty face. I have my connections too.”

She winked, reached over the middle compartment and slipped her hand in his lap. She fumbled for his zipper and pulled it down.

“Are you drunk?”

“I had a couple of cocktails with dinner.” She slid her hand inside his pants.

“Not yet.” He pulled it out.

Linda pouted and folded her arms across her chest.

He had to keep his mind clear. Some overzealous officer might pull him over for something as minor as a broken taillight. He kept discreetly checking for a tail in a way that wouldn’t make Linda suspicious of his actions.

“Where are we going?” Linda asked.

“It’s a surprise. Just sit back and relax. We’ll be there soon.”

“What’s with you tonight? And what’s with the gloves?”

Ace noted the iciness in her voice. He didn’t reply. They were nearing the spot and he tightened his grip on the wheel. His breath quickened and his heartbeat amplified. The irony was almost too much.

He felt a charge go up the back of his neck.

When the Toyota pulled over and stopped in a hidden rest area, so did Jimmy. “So what’s our next move? We can’t see or hear inside that car.”

“I’m not sure. Fuck! I was hoping Sanders would take her to a motel, where we could set up some sort of surveillance. We’re blind and deaf out here. Does this place look familiar?” Dale asked.

Jimmy’s eyes grew wide. “Holy shit!”

“Exactly. He’s going to do Linda where he offed Grant.”

“We need to stop this.”

Dale picked up the radio. “Everyone stand down.” Each unit was parked a good distance from the suspect’s car and couldn’t be seen.

A dark cloud floated away, clearing the sky for a full moon. He started to tense.

“Should we move in?”

“And do what, Jimmy? How do we explain it? We’re not supposed to be anywhere near Sanders. We don’t have anything yet.”

The passenger door of the Toyota opened and Linda stepped out. Then the driver’s door inched its way open and a man followed.

Even the full moon wasn’t enough to identify him. The man walked around the front of the car to the passenger’s side of the vehicle and positioned himself behind Linda, always staying hidden.

All they could do was wait.

The unidentified man slipped his left arm around Linda’s waist, little by little working its way under her breasts as he buried his face in her hair. They remained in that position for seconds, swaying their hips together in gentle, sexual rhythm—small circular motion. Linda’s facial expression was one of orgasmic pleasure.

“Guess we’re in for a show,” Jimmy announced, leaning back in his seat.

But something wasn’t right. At first glance, Linda seemed to enjoy it, but to Dale, it looked like she then clawed at the arm in panic, trying to tear from its grip. She was fighting to breathe. “That’s not consensual. Everyone move in!”

Dale thought of Grant and Pitt and was the first one out of the car, gun pointed, sprinting toward Linda. But even Dale’s quickness and the blinding headlight rays could not stop the killer, who was already in full motion.

Dale saw the glint of the blade before it sliced Linda’s throat with the viciousness seen in a snuff film. Blood gushed from the wound as Linda’s hands grasped for it, the blood spewing between her fingers. Her listless body flopped to the ground.

Sanders stood over Linda, blood dripping from the knife, a sly grin on his face.

Everyone had their weapons drawn. It all happened so fast that it took a few moments for Dale and his team to fully realize what they’d just seen.

Sanders shielded his eyes from the lights with one hand. The other one hung at his side, clutching the bloody murder weapon. Linda’s blood spatter had splashed on his clothes and skin. He turned to run, but the squad cars boxed him in.

The bloody knife flew from Sanders’ hand and soared deep into the woods. But it didn’t matter.

Chapter 42

Almost midnight, the precinct was full of cops who came in just to watch Sanders get processed. When word had gotten out, many off-duty officers had left their homes, bars, or wherever they happened to be and returned to the station to watch Sanders, issuing dire threats all the way, as he was guided into the police station.

Earlier, as soon as Sanders had released the knife, four cops, flashlights drawn, had raced into the woods after it. Now Jimmy carried it into the station, sealed in a plastic evidence bag.

The sergeant came out of the office, a large smile, apparent relief, on his face. “Great job, you guys. The lieutenant’s on his way.”

Dale didn’t smile. He was glad he caught Sanders—that’s all. Jimmy and Calvin seemed happy too, but not as if they were happy for the Vegas police.