Pete returned with the big red medkit which was only slightly less complete than what the city’s paramedics carried.
I opened it, broke out the smelling salts, and wafted the capsule in front of the detective’s nose.
“No reaction,” Pete noted. “I guess we just have to wait.”
O’Connor was breathing and his pulse was strengthening. So Pete was right. It was now a waiting game.
Lucas called back.
“Did you get him?” I blurted out.
“No.”
That was a gut punch. I’d lost Peyton, and we didn’t have the man responsible. I felt like exploding, but bit back my anger. “Why not? What happened?”
“Oh, we got the guy all right,” Lucas explained. “But, it wasn’t him.”
“You sure?”
The pause on the line said I might have gone a little over the line questioning my boss’s competence. “It was a setup, just like your accident. This guy is really annoying me. He hired a stand-in and gave him colored contacts, instructions on when and where to be. We are dealing with one slippery mother.”
Peyton
I forcedone eye open and saw only tan. The world bounced, and I closed my eye again. The noise in my ears slowly made sense. I was being driven in a car. The tan had been from the back of a car seat. I was lying on the backseat of a car.
My memory reengaged.Fuck.I’d been sedated and snatched by the monster I’d been running from—the one who’d killed my friends. My stomach tied itself in knots with the realization that with every second I was being taken farther away from Zane, and help.
“How much did you give the cop?” It was the monster’s voice.
I kept my eyes closed and concentrated on listening over the road noise.
“Both syringes. He’ll be sleeping for a while.” That voice was different, so the monster had a henchman with him.
“You moron,” Monster yelled. “That could fucking kill him.”
“What do you care?”
Monster raised his voice. “I told you killing the cop was not part of the plan.”
“Hey, man, no need for that gun,” Henchman’s voice trembled. “I was just trying to be safe.”
“I don’t tolerate deviations from the plan,” Monster bit out in words coated in ice. “Do you understand me?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure thing. Whatever you want. Sorry.”
“Good. You’d better hope he doesn’t die.”
His henchman didn’t answer. He was probably soiling himself about now, realizing that his boss was a full-on psychopath. “Your fuckup just cost you your turn with her.”
Turn with me?I cringed.
“It won’t happen again,” Henchman said sheepishly.
“Good, because I don’t give second chances.” Monster grunted. “I don’t tolerate errors.”
“Tell me when to turn,” Henchman said.
So, he was the driver, but his question meant he didn’t know where we were going either. Did that mean the monster didn’t trust him?
