02-Deadly Pursuit by Irene Hannon

Author:Irene Hannon
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Here it is.” Chuck pulled a glossy brochure out of the mound of junk mail piled in the corner of the living room. “I knew I remembered seeing this.” He examined the cover, then tossed it onto the couch where Bev was sprawled. It hit her leg and fell to the floor. She was too zoned out to notice. “Weird thing to advertise through the mail, if you ask me.”

Daryl picked up the direct mail piece. It was weird, all right. Spooky, even. But it would work very well for phase three of Operation Alison, as he and Chuck had named it during the early hours of the morning. He’d already moved on to formulating plans for the final phase, but Chuck was right. They’d started this bingo thing. They needed to send one more bingo card first, and this was a great way to do it.

“I think I’m gonna make a trip to the woods, check things out before the sun comes up. I’m starting a new cook tomorrow.” Chuck jiggled the change in his pocket and grinned. “You wanna come? It’d be like old times.”

“No. I have things to do.” He waved the brochure.

“Oh yeah. Right.”

“Hey, Bev, can I borrow your car to go mail this when I’m done?”

No response. She just kept humming some tuneless song and gyrating like she was on a dance floor, even though she was prone.

“Take it. She won’t be using it for a while.” Chuck spared her another quick, disgusted look. “Mixing booze and meth. Not smart. Anyway, find a box far away from here. Don’t forget to wear gloves. And don’t lick the stamp.”

“Yeah. I got it covered.”

“We’ll work on the finale when I get back.” Still jiggling the coins in his pocket, Chuck pushed through the back door, letting it slam behind him.

Once Chuck disappeared, Daryl retrieved another pair of latex gloves from the box he’d left next to the futon where he slept, slipped them on, and began paging through the catalogue. It didn’t take him long to find the perfect image.

A quick search through the drawers in the kitchen didn’t produce any scissors, so he ripped the page out. He did find a ballpoint pen, and it took him less than a minute to write his cryptic message on the page. Then he selected another bingo card from the pack on the counter, inked the skull-and-crossbones stamp, and marked off three numbers straight across. As an afterthought, he also marked off the free spot in the center, leaving one open square. He wanted the message to be crystal clear.

The next time—the final time—was bingo.

Satisfied with the results, he dug through Chuck’s drawers until he found a crumpled kraft-colored envelope. Stuffing the page from the catalogue and the bingo card inside, he moistened the flap with water from the faucet. He hadn’t needed Chuck to tell him not to lick it. He wasn’t that dumb. In fact, he was a lot smarter than most people gave him credit for. Only an idiot would leave a trail the cops could follow.

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