BooksBarbecue
Back Below the Belt Save as PDF
Chapters (67)
  1. Cover
  2. BOOKS BY STUART WOODS
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  66. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  67. What’s next onyour reading list?

Ilsa placed a file on his desk, and he read it. Rawls or his ex-wife owned an old Mercedes that was reported in the garage. Ilsa was still standing there. “Please check the Virginia DMV and see if a car or cars is registered either to Rawls or his dead wife, and if so, make and model.”

Ilsa returned to her desk, and he could hear her computer keys clicking. She returned and handed him a slip of paper.

“A 1985 Mercedes E500 station wagon,” he read aloud. “Tan metallic paint.” Macher zoomed in tight on the car on his screen. “Bingo!” he said.

“You want me to put another team on the place?” Ilsa asked.

“He’s there,” Macher said. “Put two teams on him. If he drives someplace, follow him.”

“How far?”

“To the ends of the earth, but my guess is he’ll just go out for groceries.”

37

ED RAWLS WENT GROCERY SHOPPING. There was no car in sight when he pulled out of the driveway, and he headed for the village. Fifteen minutes later he was patrolling the aisles of the supermarket with the store’s biggest shopping cart. He loaded the goods into the station wagon, went into the liquor store and bought a mixed case of booze, half of it Talisker.

He drove back to his house, and as he passed the Denton place he saw a van parked out front, emblazoned with a logo: “Jiffy Window Washers.” He was suspicious, but there was actually a man on a ladder washing the windows, so he continued home and put the car into the garage. It took four trips to get all the boxes and bags into the kitchen and the liquor into the study bar. He put everything away, then went into his study, switched on his reading lamp, and got out his throwaway cell phone.

“Martin Real Estate,” a woman said.

“Good morning, this is Edward Rawls. You have my house listed.”

“Yes, Mr. Rawls, we showed it a few days ago. I’ve been expecting an offer, but I’ve heard nothing. The couple loved the place.”

“Well, I’ve decided I love it, too, so I’m going to take it off the market with immediate effect.”

“Certainly, sir. I’ll move the file to our inactive list.”

“Just shred the file, and we’ll say no more about it. Thanks very much. Oh, and don’t forget to pick up your sign.” He hung up. On the drive home from shopping, he had begun to feel like a free man. He got up and walked around the house, opening the blinds and curtains, letting the light in. What the hell, he thought, what do I care if they know I’m here? I’m not going to spend the rest of my life running from these bastards.