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CHAPTER
23
H olly set down the drinks, got the Beretta from her handbag and went and stood behind Jackson, straining to see past him. “Who is it?” she asked.
“Looks like a light-colored truck of some sort,” he replied. “Hard to tell much, it’s getting dark.”
“Who’s in it?”
“Can’t see anybody.”
“Is it coming toward us?”
“No, just sitting. I can hear the engine idling.”
Holly changed positions and saw the dim outline of the vehicle. “Maybe it’s not a truck,” she said. “Maybe it’s an SUV, something like my Grand Cherokee.”
“Or a Ford Explorer,” he said.
“What’s going on, Jackson?”
“My guess it’s somebody who’s interested in the lack of continuing good health of one of us.”
“So who’s after you?”
“You remember, I told you about my ex-partner?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“He’s not the kind to forget.”
“And you think whoever this is could be after me, instead?”
“That’s why the Beretta was in your bag, wasn’t it?”
“It’s department policy for officers to go armed when off duty—increases police coverage. But yeah,” she admitted, “I had that in mind, too.”
The vehicle continued to sit there, idling.
“They know I’m here,” she said. “They can see my car.”
“Maybe that’s why they’re still sitting there,” he said. “They know somebody else is here, not necessarily you.”
“Glad to be of service.”
“Nice having police protection.”
She pinched his backside. “Any time.”
The vehicle reversed back down the driveway and disappeared. A moment later, the chime rang again. Jackson waited for a minute, then closed the door, put the safety on the shotgun, and returned it to the unbrella stand, where the barrel barely peeked out. “I hope you meant that,” he said.
“What?”
“The pinch.”
“Oh, I meant that. That chime is kind of a car bell, then?”
“Yeah, it offers notice of visitors.”
