“And the shots?”

“And the shots.”

“If you knew that, why were you giving me the third degree, then?”

“Because I’m pissed at you and I wanted to make you sweat.”

“Did your witnesses get a plate number?”

“There were apparently no plates on the rear of the car either.”

“Okay. That’s interesting.”

“You see what happens when you lose my hover guys?”

Mace had a sudden thought. “So how did Roy follow me, then?”

“Why don’t you ask him? It seems pretty convenient him showing up like that. If I were you I’d go a little slow with the man, not that you’ve ever listened to me when it comes to the male species.”

“First time for everything,” Mace said slowly.

“So they fired two rounds and left nothing behind. Not your typical street shooters, because those guys don’t police their brass since nobody will squeal on them anyway.”

“Does Roy know that this Captain dude wants him as his lawyer?”

“I told him.”

“You’ve already talked to Roy?”

“I wanted to see how your stories matched up.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Oh, and if someone is trying to kill you, I’d appreciate if you would confine your rides into the Valley of Death to daylight hours.”

She turned back to the door.

“Is this going to screw up my probation?”

“You were never officially charged. Kingman’s waiting down the hall.” She thumbed the bars. “You’re going to work this case, aren’t you?”

“What would you do, Beth, if it were you?”

The chief left without answering.

CHAPTER 46

SO WHERE’RE our rides?” asked Mace. She and Roy were standing out in front of the district police station while the sun rose above them.

“Impoundment lot,” he said, stretching his arms over his head.

“Are you kidding me?”

“That’s what they told me inside.”

Mace groaned. “Great. My Ducati’s probably been chopped and shopped all over the Northeast by now.”

“I doubt your sister would let that happen. My Audi, on the other hand, was pretty beat up. Should we cab it over there?”

It took a few minutes to run down a dilapidated taxi. The cabbie seemed surprised to see them flagging him down.

“What’s his problem?” asked Roy.

“Well, we don’t look like we belong around here, do we, Roy?”

“Why, because we’re white?”

“No, because we’re not shoving a gun in his face and asking for all his money.”

When the cab pulled from the curb she turned to him. “Okay, how did you show up last night? You followed me, right?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“How not exactly?”

“I was waiting for you at the spot where the car came after you.”

“I’m not liking where this is going.”

“Hey, I’m not in cahoots with the guys in the black sedan.”

“Oh, good, glad that’s all cleared up. I think this is where you and I part company.” She tapped on the cabbie’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy you can let me-”

“Mace, will you hear me out! I almost got my head blown off last night.”

She turned back to him. “Okay, I’m listening.”

“You said you were going downtown. I knew what that meant, or at least I thought I did. To the place where you were kidnapped.”

“How did you even know where that was?”

“I Googled you on my iPhone.”

“What?”

“I Googled the stories. Two of them had the street location where it happened. I went there and waited, figured you’d show up at some point. You did. Then the car came at you and I, well, I…”

“Came to my rescue?”

“A little better than I did with the Captain, I guess.”

“So you didn’t see Razor, then?”

“Who?”

“Never mind. So why did you do it? I mean, you going there at that time of night in your fancy-pants Audi was pretty stupid.”

“As stupid as a chick on a Ducati?”

“That’s different.”

“Anyway, they’d probably just assume I was looking to buy drugs or a hooker.”

She folded her arms across her chest and her suspicious look faded. “I’d be in the morgue right now but for you. Thanks. I owe you.”

“I also got us arrested with my big mouth.”

“I ran to the hoodle, you were just following.”

“You think it was somebody from your past shooting at you?”

“Don’t see many street crews using suppressor cans and piloting Town Cars. Their usual method is a double tap to the head and then the sounds of running feet.”

“Okay, what now?”

“I get my bike back, hopefully in one piece. And you get your Audi back in several hopefully repairable chunks.”

“What about the key to the mailbox at A-1? You want me to check it out?”

“No, I’ll check it out.”

“What if we check it out together?”

“People are watching, you know. They see you with me, probably not good.”

“Hell, I’ve spent more time with you over the last couple days than I’ve done with every girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

“Really? Then no wonder things never worked out for you.”

The cab dropped them at the impoundment lot. Beth had made arrangements so they weren’t charged any fees. Mace’s Ducati was parked right next to the small office building. A thick chain wrapped in plastic was wound around the front forks and the other end padlocked to a ten-foot-tall steel post. The bike was in pristine condition. It even looked like someone had washed it.

“Like I thought, your sister was looking out for you,” said Roy. Mace was staring at something. “But I don’t think she has the same level of commitment to you.” She pointed up ahead.

Across the lot Roy’s Audi was parked next to a rear section of fence. The entire left side was crunched from the collision with the Town Car and the heavy trash cans. But someone had obviously come in the night to do some more damage. All its wheels were gone along with the passenger door. Someone had also keyed the entire body of the vehicle multiple times and slashed the convertible top. As they walked over and looked inside they could see that the steering wheel, gearshift, CD player, and built-in navigation system were also missing. The seats were ripped open and the foam torn out. Someone had dumped what looked to be antifreeze on the floorboards, where it had mixed with the glass fragments and two used condoms. The trunk had also been jimmied and the spare taken. All Roy’s expensive basketball gear was also gone.

“I’m really sorry about your car,” she said.

He sighed. “Hey, this is why people buy insurance policies. You hungry?”

“Starving.”

He checked his watch. “I know this place. Eggs are good, the coffee hot.”

“I guess you need a ride?”

“Guess so. But I don’t have a helmet. And I’m not looking to getting busted again. Once a week is about my limit.”

“Not a problem.”

Mace walked back to the impoundment lot office and returned a few minutes later carrying a motorcycle helmet. A police motorcycle helmet.

“How’d you swing that?” he asked.

“You don’t want to know.”

She slipped her hand into a small black zippered pocket she’d had built years ago under the Ducati’s seat and pulled out her pepper-spray cell phone and zap knuckles.

“Didn’t really want the cops to find these on me.” She put them in the pocket of her jacket. “Popped them in there while we were running from the bad guys.”

“Good thinking,” said Roy. “Because something tells me you might need them.”