Page 14 of Dodge

“She could’ve parked it someplace else and hiked over here.”

Lombardi had never thought of that.

They stared for three or four minutes. Room 188 remained asleep.

“You asked me what it was, Tony. A feel. That it was a trap.”

“She was going to shoot us, just like that?”

“Wasn’t going to give us a coupon for the buffet breakfast.” The marshal looked him over. “You all right?”

He wasn’t going to fake it. “Sort of.”

“Never get over it—being in a firefight oralmostbeing in a firefight.”

“So, what was it? That feeling. Where did it come from?”

The marshal said nothing for a moment. “I wish I could tell you. Experience, I guess. I’ve got a few years on you.”

“Sixth sense?”

“Call it that.” Greene shook his head. “Every time I think I have one up on her, she does something like this.” He stiffened suddenly and leaned forward. “Wait ... What’s that? No ...”

Lombardi squinted and saw a figure in dark clothing, backpack over the shoulder, hopping a fence on the far side of the motel. Likely a woman, given the ponytail and build. She vanished into tall weeds and brush.

“Goddamn it.” Greene’s eyes squeezed shut briefly in anger.

“How’d that happen?”

“Saw us leave and slipped out fast.” The marshal was squinting into the distance. “And hell, we can’t follow her, not in the car. We’d have to go all the way around the forest preserve. And she’ll be long gone by the time we get there.”

The men got into the Malibu once more. Greene sighed in frustration and piloted the car down the hillside. At the intersection he turned toward the mall where they’d first met.

After a few minutes of silence the marshal said, “She’s got to stay somewhere.”

It was Lombardi’s turn to be the expert. “Not a lot of options in the Falls. Motels mostly. Bed and breakfasts. A few Airbnb’s. Hm, you know, Ed, we got a dozen or so abandoned farmhouses in the south county. I don’t know if she’d know about them. But, this weather, all she’d need is a sleeping bag. I can radio in, get some addresses.”

“That’s good thinking.”

The deputy kept from smiling.

“I’ll check motels,” the marshal said. “And call my credit card people again. She won’t use the same alias but she’s got others.”

The marshal gripped the wheel firmly. His anger was thick. He was probably thinking about Joanne, the assistant Constant Marlowe had tortured and killed.

Fifteen minutes later they were back at the strip mall and parked near Lombardi’s squad car in front of the Dollar General.

The men decided they would work in their respective mobile “offices” and meet up at Maggie’s in a half hour to compare notes. Maybe some cake or pie would be in order.

Lombardi climbed from the car. He turned and bent down. “Hey, Marshal? Ed?”

The man looked up.

“Appreciate you letting me work with you.”

“Appreciate you helping. You make a good partner.”

Lombardi tried not to let the pride blossom in his face. He wasn’t sure he was successful at this.

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