Page 3 of Deadly Vendetta

“Could any of them identify the guy?”

“Nope. He wore a dark, hooded sweatshirt and kept his back to the others who were fueling up nearby. After Katie screamed, he didn’t wait around—he dropped the gas nozzle, forced an elderly woman out of a nearby minivan, and peeled away in a cloud of burning rubber.”

The thought of Katie, terrified and helpless, sent fury pounding through Zach’s veins. “I’d like to tear him apart.”

“So would I, but at least he left her behind at the gas station.”

“Any leads?”

“A clerk called 911 and the cops found the minivan an hour later, abandoned at a freeway rest stop. And there, he stole another car.”

“Any latent prints in the minivan?”

“Nope.”

“What about the note he left at my place?”

Paul sighed. “No prints, and the same message as you’ve gotten at your condo door twice since then. ‘You don’t have a prayer’ hand-lettered in broad permanent marker. But this last time he added something else. ‘I know every move you make. And now I know about your girl.’ So the guy didn’t leave town. He’s still around, and he’s still a threat.”

Zach tried to sit forward, but the pain lancing through his shoulder and ribs sent him back against the pillows in defeat. “He must...”

“Think Katie is your daughter?”

The threat made Zach’s blood run cold. “I’m going to get this guy if it’s the last thing I do. He could grab her the moment my back is turned.”

“Or he could just off you both and be done with it. From the looks of things, he wanted to kill you both this time and left the note just in case.”

“Now he’ll go back to his cat-and-mouse game. Waiting until I’m not on guard.” Zach glared at the sling supporting the splint on his right forearm and wrist. “Which makes it a terrible a time to be out of commission with this.”

“How long till you’re released?”

“Not long at all. The wrist fracture no big deal—it’s minor, and stayed in perfect alignment. Bruised ribs don’t take long to heal.”

“Even if they do make it painful to breathe,” Paul said dryly. “But you can’t tell me that a rotator cuff tear is ‘no big deal.’ I know that for a fact.”

Zach shrugged—instantly regretting that motion. “I’m supposed to talk to a surgeon at some point. But it isn’t a full-thickness tear, and I can’t afford to be laid up after surgery. Not right now.”

“Lie low until you can come back to work. Or take the girl and go to Tahiti. Head for Canada. We can arrange an expedited passport for her.”

“I can’t. What if Janet turns up? She’ll want her daughter, and I need to be here to help her.” If she’ll let me, this time. If she’ll even sit down and talk. “And I need to figure out who this El Cazador is before he strikes again. Is he related to the murder Janet and Katie witnessed, or someone from my past in the DEA?”

“You’ve been involved in so many drug cases during the past five years that a search will take time.”

“Which means I can’t stay away from my job a day longer than necessary.”

Paul shifted uneasily in his chair. “Janet has your address, cell number, and your private phone number at work, right? If she calls in, we’ll contact you.”

Unless she threw my business card in the gutter. It had been...what? Four days, now? Still not a clue—not an airline or bus ticket in her name, no records of charge card activity. No contact with any of her known friends.

If she was off having a fling with some low-life boyfriend, that was nearly unforgivable. Zach didn’t want to think about the other, much darker possibilities.

“So what are you going to do about Katie?”

“Pete offered his wife’s day care, but I don’t want to put his family in danger. For right now, Katie’s safer with me.”

“How about foster care?

“She’s distraught over her mother’s disappearance, but she knows Janet trusted me. I’ve got to keep her.” Janet never let me help her, but I can sure help her little girl.

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