Page 54 of Now or Never

“Do you have any other Zoran contacts?”

“Yes, but they all dead-ended. He hasn’t gone back to his house on Exeter Street. His parents say they haven’t seen him. His uncle who owns the laundromat says he hasn’t seen him. This morning, Lula and I followed blood tracks from the laundromat. They crossed the street and took us through the alley to Stark Street. That’s where they stopped.”

“That alley is used as a drug market,” Ranger said.

“It was empty when we went through it, but we talked to a guy on Stark who remembered Zoran as Fang. He said Fang shopped in the alley.”

Ranger stopped for a light. “Fang’s drug of choice?”

“Shrooms, acid, pot, special K, occasionally roofies.”

“He likes to trip out,” Ranger said. “Needs help getting a date.”

“I think he’s still on Stark Street somewhere.”

“And you want him because he failed to appear for his court date?”

“I saw him moments after he killed that woman. He was hovering over her with blood dripping out of his mouth. It was terrifying and unbelievably, sickeningly horrible. I think he’s killed before. I suspect he’s killed four other women. Maybe more.”

“And he needs to be stopped,” Ranger said.

“Yes,” I said. “He needs to be stopped.”

“Did you tell Morelli?”

“Yes. They’re working on it.”

“But you can’t let it go,” Ranger said.

“I’d love to walk away. This guy is insane. He scares the bejeezus out of me, but I have a responsibility to make an effort to capture him. I only have two FTAs right now. It’s not like I’m on case overload.”

“Your other FTA has disappeared,” Ranger said.

“I’m pretty sure I know where he is. Lula and I will be going after him tomorrow. Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“One day at a time.”

Ranger turned off State Street, onto Stark.

“Do you know what Zoran looks like?” I asked Ranger.

“More or less. His mug shot was blurry.”

“That’s because vampires don’t photograph well.”

“Yeah,” Ranger said. “I thought it was something like that.”

We cruised past the drug alley and did a slow drive-by on Lucky Linda’s.

“It’s early,” Ranger said. “Not a lot going on. I’ll make one more pass and then we’ll park.”

When we came around the second time there was a Lincoln Navigator in front of Lucky Linda’s. Ranger parked behind the Navigator, and we all got out. Tiny took point, standing guard in front of the Rangeman SUV, and Ranger and I went into the bar.It was appropriately dark, with a bunch of high-top tables in the front and a horseshoe-shaped bar toward the back. A small, raised stage with a couple of poles had been placed inside the horseshoe. Two mostly naked women were writhing and twerking against the poles. Bump-and-grind music competed with the televised ball game at one end of the bar. A wasted couple nursed drinks at one of the high-tops and four men were at the bar, hands wrapped around their bottles of beer. They had a lot of gold chains and tats, and I assumed the men arrived in the Navigator.

Ranger and I slid onto bar stools at one end of the horseshoe, and Ranger signaled the lone bartender. Ranger doesn’t wear his weight in gold. He doesn’t have a tattoo. He doesn’t have a diamond stud in any of his teeth. His hair is perfectly trimmed. His body is perfectly muscled and toned. His gun is perfectly hidden under his perfectly tailored jacket. He only wears black. He says it makes his choices simple in the morning. I think it’s for effect, because it’s a power look and it’s sexy as hell. He’s former Special Forces, and if you’re foolish enough to mess with him, he’s deadly.

The bartender was young, medium height, and had a lot of curly red hair and a showstopping, brilliant white smile.

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