Cab stood outside in the midst of the dark urban neighborhood. The weather forecast was right. The night had changed. A west wind was blowing, and the air pressure had dropped. He could taste rain on his lips. He’d lived in Florida long enough to know that a storm was coming.

He studied the houses around him and felt uneasy. Some had lights, others didn’t. The yards were a maze of fences and mature trees, all black in the darkness. Cars were parked along the curbs, leaving wide spaces between them. He couldn’t see far, but he spent several minutes waiting and listening.

Eventually, he crossed the street to his Corvette, but it didn’t change what he felt.

Somewhere around him were the eyes of a stranger. He was being watched.

16

He put down his binoculars and melted into the cover of the trees. The cop was smart; the good ones had a sixth sense when someone was spying on them. He watched the red Corvette scream away from Diane Fairmont’s estate, and he wondered if the cop was going to be a problem.

He didn’t want more death, but sometimes it was necessary. Like the girl who’d broken into the foreclosure house. Tina. Young, pretty, sweet. After he cut her throat, he’d dumped her body in a park near the Gulf shore. Eventually, they would match the blood on the carpet in the house and realize she’d been there, but by then, it wouldn’t matter.

He only needed a few more days.

He thought about Justin Kiel. Justin was smart, too, like the cop. He’d put two and two together in a way that no one ever had. It could have been a disaster, but Justin had made the mistake of following him and trying to learn more. He was easy to spot, easy to trap.

All these years, his secret had been safe. Buried. Hidden. Until now. He should have expected it. Once the dirt was scraped off an old grave, there was always the risk that someone would stumble across it.

What’s happening?

Why is there so much blood?

He squeezed his fists, pushing down his emotions. It was déjà vu. Ten years had changed nothing. All he could do was keep going.

He felt his throwaway phone vibrating in his pocket. He knew exactly who was on the other end of the line. He checked the neighborhood, and he was alone. He answered the phone: ‘Do you have it?’

The man replied: ‘Yes, I can get what you want. It isn’t a problem.’

‘Good.’

‘This is serious firepower, friend,’ the man said.

‘Yeah, so?’

‘I want to make sure this doesn’t come back to haunt me.’

‘Don’t worry about that.’

‘I’m someone who worries. Do you have the money?’

‘Yes.’