“You have nightmares?” Wolfe asked, not moving, his voice hoarse.
Mal paused and faced the former soldier. “Yeah. You?”
Wolfe studied him. “Yeah. I have nightmares.” He jerked his head toward the wine bottle on the kitchen table. “Drinkin’ doesn’t help.”
“I know,” Mal said softly. He didn’t have the energy to share war stories. Not right now.
Wolfe opened his mouth and then closed it, obviously deciding not to say whatever he had in mind. He cleared his throat. “You focused on the plan tomorrow?”
“Affirmative,” Mal muttered. “If nothing else, I always get the job done.” His phone buzzed in his back pocket and he paused. There was nobody in the world who should be calling him. He took it out and read the number. He swore. “There is no reason for you to call me,” he said, answering it.
“Sorry, buddy,” Lieutenant Jack Montego muttered, his voice as cranky as ever. “I’m getting pushback from the effin’ DA about the case against the two Bodini henchmen who survived the shoot-out.”
“No.” Mal barely kept from snapping his phone in two. “I was told they’d pled out. No trial. No testimony.” He was done with that life. “Aren’t you supposed to be retiring?” Montego had been Mal’s handler on the Bodini case, and he’d been inching toward the end of his gig the whole time, staying in only to finish up.
“Next month. Heading right to Florida.” Montego cleared his throat. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. The DA just wants to meet with you once, and he thinks he can get the two to plea.”
“It’s Comstock, isn’t it?” Mal shook his head. The ambitious young DA was a total pain in the ass. But the guy got the job done. Almost every time. “I can’t head to New York right now.”
“Comstock said he’d come to you. Just say where and when.”
Mal cut his gaze at Wolfe, who had no trouble eavesdropping in plain sight. “I think I just found a legitimate reason to be in that diner.” Smiling for the first time that night, he returned his attention to the phone. “Fine. Tell Comstock he can have thirty minutes. Tomorrow at eleven-fifteen a.m. at a diner called Pine’s in Minuteville. If he’s late, even five minutes, I’m gone.” He clicked off.
“Aren’t you a multitasker?” Wolfe asked dryly. “The guy you’re meeting? He look like a DA?”
Mal slowly nodded. “Yeah. Let’s see just how spooked Pippa gets.” It was time to push her a little. The woman had a go-bag.
Why?
Chapter Nine
Pippa knew the route by heart. Back roads, long strips of deserted countryside except for a couple of old thrift stores without surveillance cameras. That was the key. No cameras.
She’d had to take two Xanax and meditate for an hour before leaving home. It was getting harder and harder to do so, and she only made the journey once a month. Her fear had grown to a degree that couldn’t be healthy. Not a fear of crowds or groups, like she’d told Malcolm. It was a fear of being spotted. Of being found.
She drove the familiar two hours listening to country music, her mind on Malcolm West. His kiss had stayed with her all night, making her skin feel too tight and her heart beat too quickly. She’d taken her usual sleeping pill, but even that hadn’t helped.
A part of her, the self-destructive part that knew better, wished she’d just yanked off her top and offered him everything.
But she couldn’t do that. Everything included truth, and hers had holes.
The colored contacts she wore made her eyes water beneath the thick glasses that were all glass. No prescription. She’d temporarily darkened her hair and had the end of her ponytail coming out of a ball cap, which also shielded her face. If she was ever caught on camera, hopefully she wouldn’t be recognizable.
She pulled into the dirt parking area of Pine’s diner and cautiously looked around.
The place was a couple of miles off the interstate with no hotel, gas station, or other businesses around. A bunch of long-haul trucks were parked over by the trees. As far as she could tell, only truckers knew of the place. There wasn’t even a sign on the interstate about food nearby.
She cut her engine and stepped into the crisp spring air. The second she moved into the open, her body chilled. Her heart stuttered. It was okay. She could do this. At least it had stopped raining. She’d worn her baggiest jeans and sweatshirt, hoping to add pounds to her frame. Her nails were short and unpainted, and she wore no makeup.
If anybody needed to describe her, they’d have a hard time.
Taking a deep breath, she looked around again, and then walked casually in nondescript black boots to the front door.
The outside of Pine’s was clapboard and peeling paint. The inside smelled like comfort food. Worn red booths lined two walls with a wide counter and seats along the middle. She walked past the counter and went to the last booth in the back.
Trixie looked up from a book and smiled. “Hello, Sister.”
Warmth rushed into Pippa as she hugged her friend. “I’ve missed you.”
