Ditch Rider by Judith van Gieson

Author:Judith van Gieson [Gieson, Judith van]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, United States, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Mystery, Women Sleuths, Thrillers, Legal
ISBN: 9781620644683
Google: 7ZMrAAAAYAAJ
Amazon: 0060175133
Barnesnoble: 0060175133
Goodreads: 2821655
Publisher: AudioGO
Published: 1997-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

13

I WALKED TO the underground lot where my Nissan was parked and took the elevator down to Level Three. I don’t like parking lots. What woman does? An inside lot is worse than outside, unless it’s after dark. The concrete ceiling, the institutional lighting, the shadows under the Broncos and BMWs told me to get in and out fast. Usually I circle the levels until I find a spot that’s close to the elevator. I like to have as few vehicles as possible between escape and my Nissan. But today there’d been no close-in spots on any level. Several cars away on Level Three was the best I’d been able to do.

Guilt was at my side when I got on the elevator. The deal I’d made for my client was not justice for the Padillas and maybe not for my client, either. While the elevator descended I took out my key ring, made a fist and inserted the keys between my fingers, not a bad idea when you’re entering a parking lot. I got off the elevator, saw that I was the only living thing on Level Three and walked to my car. When I got there and inserted the key in the lock I heard the elevator descending and the door sliding open.

I turned around and saw Nolo Serrano—many women’s dark and handsome nightmare—dance through the sliding door. No one is as much trouble as a good-looking guy. I’d lived long enough to know that and to remember when fear took the form of dirty old men. Now it’s teenagers who bring on the goose bumps. None of Nolo’s homeboys followed him. The door rolled shut, and he and I were alone on Level Three. My right hand went to my purse, reaching automatically for the piece I wasn’t packing, hoping Serrano didn’t know that.

“Hey!” He held up his hands. “I’m not packin’.”

I didn’t think he’d come down here to pick up his car. So what was it? And why was he alone? I didn’t intend to let Nolo Serrano charm the money out of me. I kept one hand on my keys and the other on my purse. “What do you want?” I asked.

“Just to talk is all. Just want to talk.” He boogalooed a little closer. His movements and speech had a quick and nervous rhythm.

“I can hear you fine from where you are.” And I could also see how pretty he was, even in the harsh underground light. His pale eyes, fringed by thick black lashes, danced with amusement. His hat framed his face in black. The white scar that I’d noticed on his jacket turned out to be an embroidered zipper.

“Okay, okay.” He tried to stand still, but he was too wired. He did a little rubber-soled dance while we talked.

“Laura, she shouldn’t have called you a hoe. You were just doing your job. It’s a tough job, I know. But you and Cheyanne, you did the right thing. She did the crime, hey she should do the time.

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