Chico had spent the previous night in much more comfortable surroundings, thinking what he should do with her. She'd already told him where the money was and he was confident she hadn't lied to him after the fun they'd had in the basement. But that wasn't really what he was interested in; he wanted Dixie. Wanted him so bad he hadn't been able to sleep either. And he reckoned the best way to get to him was through the grasping, self-centered bitch sitting in front of him.

Option one was to keep her here and have some more fun and games—and it had been fun, no doubt about it. He didn't know if he'd actually slice her breasts off, but even if he didn't, that evil little son of a bitch José would. However, if they went down that route he doubted he'd ever see Dixie again. He'd have a couple of hours' fun, soon forgotten, and spend the rest of his life tearing his hair out every time he thought of Dixie.

Option two was to turn set her loose. If he made it clear it was a straight choice between her skin and Dixie's . . . The downside was he couldn't send anybody with her. On her own she had a chance but not with a minder. He'd be taking a gamble on his assessment of her character—or lack of it.

'Looks like it's down to you,' he said to her. 'I'll give you two days to get the money back here. If I don't have it by then, Juan and José will pay a visit to your friend here.' He picked up the piece of paper with the information she'd written down and waved it in her face.

Two days sounded like a result to her. She could have it in a couple of hours and in two days' time she'd be on the other side of the country. Did the stupid wetback really believe he'd be able to find her again? Let him think it if it meant she was out of here.

'What about Dixie?' she said, trying to keep the smile out of her voice.

Chico cocked his head. 'What about him?'

'How long do I have to find him?'

'Same thing. Two days.'

'You can't be serious.' She leapt out of the chair but Juan put a hand on her shoulder, pushed her back down again. She shuddered at his touch, memories of the previous day still fresh in her mind. 'I'll never find him—'

'Ellie,' he said, leaning over the desk.

'What?' Instinctively she leaned in towards him.

He slapped her hard across the face. It connected with her cheekbone and busted up through her teeth and nose and eyes, knocking her clean out of the chair. Juan took hold of her collar and hauled her back up.

'I've already got somebody who talks back and argues with me, she's called my wife. I don't need another one.' He shook his head. 'Jesus Christ. I can't stand whining women. You're giving me a headache.'

Ellie stared at him, the whole side of her head pounding, not trusting herself to say anything. She felt she was one wrong word away from being dragged back to the basement.

'That's the deal,' he said, looking at his palm. The force of the blow had opened up the cuts again.

She touched her cheek; her fingers came away smeared with blood although she didn't know if it was his or hers. Her cheek felt as if it had been split to the bone.

'It's him or you,' he carried on. 'You either find him or we'll put you back in the basement right now until we find him—and your friend Evan. Then we'll have one big, happy reunion and see who's really telling the truth.' He opened and closed his fingers a couple of times as if using a pair of imaginary secateurs.

She slumped back in the chair, not looking at his little show, and ran her hands through her hair. She could smell a faint body odor coming off her as she raised her arms. She just wanted to get out of here.

'Do I get my gun back?'

Chico opened his desk drawer and lifted out the diminutive Kahr P380 by his finger and thumb.

'You mean this?' He swung it back and forward in front of her. 'No, I don't think so. I can't see why you'd need it anyway. I don't want you to kill Dixie, just find him.'

He put his hand in the drawer again and brought out the can of pepper spray.

'You can have this back.'

He pushed it across the desk towards her. She watched it as it rolled towards her, imagined grabbing it, taking hold of the back of his greasy head and pulling it backwards, spraying the searing gas in his wide open startled eyes, back and forth, back and forth, like she was trying to shift a particularly stubborn stain in her oven. It was a nice thought. She picked it up and tucked it away in her bag. Another time maybe,

She got up and headed for the door. At the door he called her back. She turned to look at him. He was holding her gun again. For a split second she thought he'd changed his mind and was going to give it back to her.

'By the way,' he said, 'is this toy registered to you?'

She nodded. 'Uh huh.'

He gave her a right answer smile. 'Good to know. If you don't find Dixie before us, we'll probably shoot him with it and leave it at the scene. You might think you can get away from me'—he wagged his finger at her; an I'm not as stupid as you think glint in his eyes—'but you'll have the police to worry about as well.'

Chapter 24

Evan was just about to call Guillory to tell him that he wouldn't be able to pick him up when Guillory beat him to it. They'd arranged to meet at the Jerusalem Tavern which was probably Evan's favorite bar in the whole world. Before he had a chance to explain about the car Guillory told him he could do with some exercise, so he was going to walk and would meet him there. Evan didn't say anything but it sounded to him from the noises in the background that he might already be there, making an early start. He could almost smell booze through the phone line. He felt a momentary pang of jealousy. Then again, it might just be the radio in the background. Not for him to judge.

'So how comes you're not at work?' Evan said as he climbed onto the barstool next to him. Starting this early pretty much guaranteed that you got a seat at the bar. Guillory looked like the half-empty beer sitting in front of him wasn't the first one.

Guillory snorted. He stretched his arms out, lacing his fingers together and let out a sharp hiss of breath. 'What? Can't a man take a couple of days vacation?'

Evan ordered a beer and waited for him to say something else.

'You're right,' Guillory went on. 'I'm not on vacation.'

Evan turned to look at him. 'Don't tell me you've resigned. Where will I get my free information now?'

Guillory laughed but there wasn't much humor in it; none at all in fact. 'I've been suspended.'

Evan felt as if he'd been slapped on the back by a bear. He almost spat his beer out. 'You're kidding.'

Guillory bit his tongue and shook his head.

Evan couldn't believe it. Guillory was the straightest guy he'd ever come across. He couldn't imagine what he might have done to get suspended. Guillory was staring at the bar as if Evan wasn't even there.

'What happened?'

Guillory took a deep breath and waved his arm to order another beer. The bartender looked up from his conversation with a girl in a clitoris pink dress that showed off her full, wobbly young breasts and came down the bar to serve them.

'Don't you want to hear what I've got for you?' Guillory said.

'That can wait. Tell me what happened.'

Guillory picked a coaster up off the bar and started picking absently at it, dropping little bits of paper onto the bar. The bartender gave him a look but didn't say anything. Evan reckoned that was a good call.

'I got a bit carried away interviewing a suspect,' Guillory said quietly, still looking down and pushing the little pieces of paper around.

Evan was at a loss for words. As well as being the straightest guy he'd ever met, Guillory was also the most laid-back. Nothing got to him. Ever.