I was too busy watching the trees whizzing past the window to reply. The sun was nearly down and the trees were like shadows.
“Did you have to accuse him like that?” she asked.
“Some days I just can’t remember if I’m the good twin or the bad twin.”
“Maybe the county attorney has a copy of the file,” Mallinger said.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe it’s a moot point, anyway. Maybe Josie Bloom really did commit suicide.”
“Take me to my car,” I said.
Fifteen minutes later we stopped behind my Audi, parked across the street from Bloom’s house. There was yellow tape all around the house, but no officers keeping watch. I asked her if that was a good idea. Mallinger was more interested in my future plans.
“What are you going to do now?” she asked.
“What makes you think I’m going to do anything?”
“Are you going home?”
“Do you want me to go home?”
“Chaos, panic, murder—I’d say your work here was done.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I get the answers I came for.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
Mallinger waited until I started my car before driving off. I watched her taillights disappear around a corner while the Audi warmed. A second car, a smaller one moving slow, turned the same corner and approached from the opposite direction. I paid little attention until it abruptly veered out of its lane and accelerated toward where I was parked.
I brought my hand up to shield my eyes from the bright glare of the headlights.
The car came closer.
It’s going to hit you, my inner voice shouted.
I lunged across the stick shift, half my body settling in the bucket seat next to me, the other half still curled beneath the steering column.
Only the car didn’t hit me.
At the last moment it straightened and came to an abrupt halt next to the Audi.
“Hey, McKenzie,” a muffled voice shouted.
I straightened in my seat and powered down the window. There were less than twenty inches between the two cars.
“How you doin’, pal?” the voice asked.
“Schroeder.”
“So,” he said, “are you scared yet?”
“I’m getting there.”
“Goin’ into that ditch this morning, I thought I lost you.”
“You saw it?”
“Oh, yeah. I called it in.” He gestured in the general direction of Josie Bloom’s house. “Now this. My, my, my, my, my.”
I studied him for a moment. The hard, cold wind set my teeth to chattering despite the warm air that the car heater spilled over my legs and torso.
“Did you kill Bloom, Greg? Did you try to kill me?”
“What kind of question is that?”
A gun appeared in his right hand that I recognized only as an automatic. He pointed it at me, letting it rest casually against the crook of his left elbow.
“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Bam, bam, bam, and I drive away. No muss, no fuss. As for Bloom, who the hell is Bloom and why should I care?”
I stared at the gun barrel. It seemed enormous.
After a moment it disappeared into the darkness of Schroeder’s car.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “See you around, McKenzie. Oh, hey. Nice car.”
A moment later, he sped off, driving at least one hundred yards on the wrong side of the street before returning to the proper lane. I watched his reflection recede in my rearview mirror. I closed the window and set the heat at full. It took a few minutes before my teeth stopped chattering.
Maybe I should go home, I told myself.
The job’s not done, my inner voice replied.
What job?
You came here to protect Jack Barrett.
No, I didn’t. I came here to find out who sent an e-mail.
Have you?
Dammit.
I opened the glove compartment, slipped out my Beretta, chambered a round, engaged the safety, and set it on the bucket seat next to me. Next, I retrieved my cell phone and punched in a number I’ve known nearly my entire life.
A young girl answered.
“Hi, Katie. It’s McKenzie.”
“Thank you, McKenzie, for the sno-cone machine.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And the donut machine.”
“Kate?”
“And the popcorn machine. I’m supposed to say that.”
“You’re welcome, Katie. Is your dad around?”
“He’s watching basketball.”
“Let me talk to him, please.”
“But he’s watching basketball.”
“Katie.”
“Okay. Dad.”
There was a lot of fumbling before Bobby Dunston took the receiver from his daughter.
“I’m watching basketball,” he said.
“Why? It’s not the playoffs yet.”
“What do you want, McKenzie?”
“I need you to do something for me.”
“Why is it that whenever you agree to do these little favors for people, I end up doing all the work?”
“That’s the way I plan it.”
“What do you need?”
“I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important.”