“What?” Her voice trilled up in alarm. “When were you at the hospital?”
“No, I couldn’t fall asleep.” Andrea could see that Ricky was openly listening to the call. “I forgot to ask. Do you mind calling Mike for me? His number is stored in my stupid phone.”
Ricky made a face at the broken iPhone, as if she was part of the conversation.
“Mike?” Laura demanded. “My Mike? What does Mike have to do with the hospital?”
“Tell him I walked down to the diner to get a drink.” Andrea’s hands were steady as she rolled the shot glass between her fingers. “I got a message at work from our neighbor. He needs Mike’s help. Renfield got out.”
“Okay.” Laura’s voice had turned deadly calm. During her criminal days, she had communicated exclusively through codes and cyphers. “I’m writing this down. I’m supposed to call Mike and tell him you’re at the diner. Correct?”
“Sure.”
“And I don’t know what the other part means, but I’ll tell him verbatim, ‘I got a call from our neighbor. He needs Mike’s help. Renfield got out.’”
“That’s right,” Andrea said. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
The receiver went back into the cradle. Andrea took a sip of tequila. Her fingers were slick on the glass.
Ricky left the phone on the counter. She kept the knife moving back and forth, but her eyes had never left Andrea. “That was your mom?”
Andrea nodded. “My cat got out. He only comes when my boyfriend calls him.”
“I wish I had time for a pet.” Ricky was smiling, but there was an edge to her tone. “Bit late for a phone call, isn’t it?”
Ricky glanced at Nardo again. Her curiosity had crossed into suspicion.
Andrea knew that Ricky had seen her dial the number. “Mom used to live in Georgia, but she moved to Portland last year.”
“Maine?”
“Oregon.” Andrea resisted the temptation to check on Nardo. She felt like he was staring a hole into her back. “They’re three hours behind. She was watching TV.”
“I love Oregon.” Ricky wasn’t going to let up. “What part?”
“Laurelhurst,” Andrea said. “It’s on the eastern side of Portland. She lives near the park with the Joan of Arc statue. There’s some great live music at the coffee house.”
Ricky relaxed, but only slightly. “Sounds nice.”
“It is.” Andrea finished her tequila. She let herself find Nardo in the mirror.
He had pushed away his plate. He dropped his empty stein onto the table. “Waitress?”
Ricky ignored him, but the blade struck the cutting board with tellingly loud thunks.
“Hey, waitress,” Nardo called. “You got any more of that tequila?”
Ricky forced the knife down on the counter as if she was keeping herself from using it on Nardo. She grabbed the bottle. She slammed a shot glass down on the counter.
Andrea looked at Nardo. He was smirking. Andrea was calculating. Laura would’ve called Mike immediately. Andrea had no doubt that he would pick up the phone. Protectees only called during life and death situations—
Andrea is at the diner. Renfield got out. She needs your help.
At the hospital, Mike had used the name Renfield to describe Nardo. And he sure as hell would know something was wrong if Andrea was asking for help.
Her gaze traveled to the clock on the wall. She watched the second hand tick between the numbers. Two minutes for Laura to relay the message to Mike. Two more minutes for Mike to relay it to Compton. Four minutes for Compton to mobilize teams. The closest Marshals were at the farm, but that fifteen-minute drive would be cut down to ten with lights and sirens.
Eighteen minutes in all, if everything went exactly as Andrea had guessed. The call to Laura had ended at 11:59. The soonest someone could get here would be 12:17.
“Heads up,” Ricky slid the tequila shot down the length of the counter.
The glass stopped shy of Star’s pointy elbow.
This was clearly part of the game that Ricky played with Nardo. She couldn’t cross the red line. Star wasn’t only there as an audience. She was there to serve him.
“Let’s go, girl.” Nardo rapped his knuckles on the table. “You need to lift those spirits.”
Improbably, Ricky laughed. She was watching Star with a look of sick satisfaction on her face. The sound of her knife hitting the cutting board turned into a staccato as Star went through the slow mechanics of delivering the drink to Nardo. Her yellow dress swayed back and forth on her angular frame. Her bare feet sounded like a whisper as they brushed across the floor.
Andrea’s eyes found the mirror again, but this time she wanted to see outside. The blue truck was the only vehicle in the street. She looked at the clock again. Only a minute had passed.
“Waitress,” Nardo called to Ricky again. “Where’s my dessert, old girl? Maybe I should speak to the manager. The service here is atrocious.”
Ricky rolled her eyes for Andrea’s benefit, but she followed his order. She used a chef’s knife to cut off a large chunk of chocolate cake. Then she dropped the plate on the counter for Star to retrieve.
Andrea clenched her teeth as Star haltingly traversed the room. Silently, she ran through the timeline again. Laura to Mike. Mike to Compton. Compton to the surveillance team. They wouldn’t rush into the building. They would see three potential hostages. They would assume that Nardo was armed. Like Andrea, they would assume it was a SIG Sauer P365 with ten opportunities to take out three different hostages.
Andrea couldn’t do anything about Ricky or herself, but Star was inches away. She was reaching for the plate with Nardo’s slice of cake. Her chapped lips were parted. Andrea could smell the sickly, medicine odor of her breath.
Andrea said, “I talked to your mother.”
Star said nothing.
“She misses you. She wants to see you.”
“Hon,” Ricky told Andrea. “I know you’re trying to help, but—”
The plate dropped from Star’s hand. The thin china broke in two. The cake rolled off the edge, smearing across the counter.
“Fucksakes.” Ricky reached for a bar rag to clean up the mess.
Nardo asked, “What happened over there?”
“Your fucking Skeletor broke a plate is what happened.” Ricky turned around to wet the rag at the bar sink. “Jesus, Nardo. Why can’t you just leave?”
Star’s head was bowed. Her eyes glistened with tears that would not fall.
Andrea told the girl, “Go down the hall. Walk out the back door.”
“Walk out what, you say?” Nardo was pushing himself up from the table. “Star, heel. Back to your spot. Be a good little doggie.”
Andrea could not stop Star from returning to her place at the end of the counter. She watched the woman slowly spin around on the stool to face the blank tile wall again.
“Come now, southern gal.” Nardo slowly walked across the room. “I’ve only taken dear Star out on loan. She’s expected back in one piece.”
Andrea stood up. She wasn’t going to be sitting when Nardo reached her.
“Keep it cool, Robocop.” Nardo showed her his hands, but he kept walking. “Star’s the best girl on the farm. Didn’t you hear? She won a-trophy.”