Petra Connor - 02 - Twisted by Jonathan Kellerman

Author:Jonathan Kellerman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 9780345465252
Published: 2004-11-23T06:00:00+00:00

He wouldn’t give details, insisted on a face-to-face, got progressively edgier as the conversation stretched. She told him to meet her at the station in an hour.

“No way, too public. I can’t take the chance.”

“Of what?”

“Being the next victim.”

“Of who?”

“It’s complicated. Now that they know who I am, I’m a target. I’m scared shitless, not ashamed to admit it. I’ve done some things in my life but this … it’s a whole new game. I’ll meet you somewhere off the beaten path. With lots of space all around—how about a park?”

“Oh, sure,” said Petra. “I just waltz into some dark park at this hour because you claim to be someone with information.”

“I’ve got more than information, Detective. I’ve got all the answers.”

“Give me a hint.”

“I can’t risk that. I need to know you’ll protect me.”

“From who?”

Long pause. “Detective, I can solve your case, but we have to do this my way. How about Rancho Park—a relatively open area, right off Motor—”

“Not possible, sir.”

“Okay, okay,” said Leon. “Somewhere else, then. You make a suggestion. Bring other detectives with you, I don’t care about that. I just don’t want to be seen at the Wilcox station because for all I know they’re watching the place.”

“Who’s they, sir?”

Silence.

“Your fellow Players?” said Petra.

Laughter. “I wish. Them I could deal with.”

“Who, then?”

“Okay, not a park. But nowhere in Hollywood or in Venice.”

“Why not Venice?”

Leon ignored the question. “Would the Valley be okay?”

“There’s an all-night coffee shop at Ventura near Lankershim.”

“Too public … how about Encino?”

“If you told me exactly what you are afraid of, sir, I could—”

“You were there. In the parking lot, after the shooting. All those bodies. And you’re asking me that?”

“Give me a name, sir. I’ll make sure that whoever—”

“This is my final offer: There’s a Jaguar–Land Rover dealer in Encino, on Ventura, west of Sepulveda. Nearby is a felafel joint. It’s closed right now but they keep their benches out, chained to the ground. The car lot keeps its lights on so some of the benches are illuminated. I’ll wait on a dark one. When I see you approach I’ll step out with my arms up, so you can make sure this isn’t an ambush.”

“Sounds pretty theatrical,” said Petra.

“Life is theater, Detective. Say in an hour?”

Petra knew the exact spot, she’d eaten there. No back alley approach, even with backup there’d be limits to how careful she could be.

Sidewalk café. The similarities to Tel Aviv were creepy. But this was too good to lose. She’d figure out a way.

She said, “An hour it is.”

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