Page 46 of Two Kinds of Stranger

She let go of Cross’s ruined limb. Let the small of her back hit the floor, then curled her legs up and over her head in a smooth backward roll. Her boots found the floor, and she pushed herself upright.

Stared down at Cross.

He was panting, but had managed to sit up. He cradled his arm, got onto one knee and stood as Lake put an arm round Bloch’s waist and hauled her out of the house. She let him, of course, but all the while she stared at Cross.

They walked backward over the flagstone path, both keeping Cross in their eyeline. He was panting, his expression twisted in pain, but there were no screams now. Just the sound of his breath.

Just as Bloch and Lake reached the car, Cross spoke.

‘Bloch,’ he said, slowly. Letting every sound linger on his lips, theKon the end of her name clicking his tongue.

‘B-L-O-C-K. . .’

Lake told her to get in the car. Bloch turned away from Cross, got into the driver’s seat and fired up the Jeep. They pulled away in silence. Lake’s fingers drummed on his knees.

Neither of them said a word until they were crossing the Queensboro Bridge over the East River and Roosevelt Island lay beneath them.

Lake drew breath, said, ‘That didn’t go—’

‘I don’t want to hear it,’ said Bloch.

‘I told you it wouldn’t work. That guy is a pure sociopath.’

‘I could tell. But you’re wrong. Itdidwork.’

Lake angled in his seat to face Bloch. ‘How exactly do you figure that?’

‘He wasn’t going to listen to us. He wasn’t going to back off. Now, he’s got no choice–he’s only got one arm for six, maybe seven months. He’s a lot less dangerous if he only has one hand.’

She could tell Lake wasn’t sold on the methods, but there was no denying Bloch’s logic.

The head-up display on the Jeep’s console lit up with an incoming phone call. Caller ID saidEDDIE.

Bloch looked at the screen. Then returned her gaze to the front.

Lake hit the answer icon on the screen.

‘How did it go?’ said Eddie.

Lake and Bloch’s eyes met for a second, in silence.

She looked back at the road.

Lake said, ‘There’s good news and bad news.’

‘What’s the good news?’ asked Eddie.

‘I didn’t shoot him. . .’

14

Eddie

Bail bondsmen keep odd hours.

Part of the game. Mornings are for court. Getting paperwork signed for bail–application forms, indemnity agreements, promissory notes and confessions of judgement, all the pieces of paper to cover their business. Afternoons are most often appointment times. Their customers check in by phone or call into the office to confirm they are still where they are supposed to be, they are keeping to their curfew if any, they will make the next court date, and they haven’t jumped bail.

Evenings vary–but most bondsmen are on the clock, charging by the hour, hunting down wayward defendants who haven’t turned up for a court appearance that day and had a warrant issued for their arrest. The bondsmen find them and bring them in or sometimes manage to persuade them to surrender to the court with an excuse, and a higher bail bond, which means more money for the bondsman plus the fees for finding their asses in the first place.