“Not a good idea,” Logan said. “He was trying to kill you, Monty. We don’t know where he is. He could be watching you.” His eyes swept the room. “We need to stay together. No one goes anywhere alone.”
Monty stood. “I understand what you’re saying, but you can’t force me to stay here. I have to be with my grandmother. I don’t want a lot of strangers with her now.”
“Monty,” Alex said, “Logan’s right. You’d be telling us the same thing. Besides, we need to talk about this. I’m sorry. I realize this is the worst time possible to bring this up, but...”
“But everything’s changed,” Kaely finished for her.
Alex nodded.
Monty slowly sat down again.
“What do you mean?” Gorman asked.
Alex took a deep breath. “The first two, John Davis and Evan Bayne, could have worked together on a case, but Monty’s never been involved with them. They both retired years ago.”
“Then why—” Monty’s eyes suddenly got big. “You’re right. He’s not going after people who were involved with him or his family, he’s...”
“Pursuing us,” Logan said, his expression solemn. “I think his targets are behavioral analysts.”
He drove slowly away from the old lady’s house, the ski mask thrown onto the seat beside him, angry that he’d been forced to kill her. He hadn’t wanted to pull the trigger, but it certainly wasn’t his fault. If her grandson had really cared for her, he wouldn’t have put him in a position like that.
He looked down at his jacket, spattered with blood. He liked this jacket, and now he’d have to get rid of it. That made him even angrier. Monty Wong was selfish. He was almost glad Monty would have to live with the guilt of causing his grandmother’s death.
It took him almost an hour to reach the out-of-the-way motel where he’d been staying. He parked the car and walked quickly to his door, unlocking it and stepping into the cheap room that barely took care of his needs. This was the kind of place where you could pay cash without anyone caring who you were. Where the guy in the office didn’t even look at you. Even if he did, he’d only see what he was supposed to see—an overweight bald guy with a big nose and dark mustache.
He carefully removed his jacket and put it into a plastic trash bag. He’d toss it into the dumpster out back when he left. Then he took off the padding underneath the jacket and hung it in the closet. After that, he removed his colored contacts and put them in their case.
Then he undressed completely and got into the shower. Even though no blood had touched his skin, he felt the need to cleanse himself. As the hot water washed over him, he smiled. Three down, three to go.