A Broken Woman by Dharma Kelleher

Author:Dharma Kelleher [Kelleher, Dharma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780979173080
Publisher: Dark Pariah Press

28

A green ’70s-model muscle car parked on the street started up as we drove out of Wilkes’s neighborhood. It was still a few cars behind Shea when I turned left onto Camelback Road.

“Looks like we got company,” I said.

Byrd glanced back. “The ’71 Nova? You think they’re following us?”

“One way to find out.” I made an abrupt turn south on Scottsdale Road just as the turn arrow switched from green to yellow. I glanced in my rearview. Shea squeaked through just as the light went red.

“They still tailing us?” I focused on the heavy congestion around Scottsdale Fashion Park. From behind us came a squeal of brakes and a blaring of horns.

“Yup. You think it’s the guy who shot up your house?” asked Byrd.

“Freddie Colton drives a Pontiac Trans Am.”

“Maybe it wasn’t Colton last night. You said it sounded like a sports car.”

A chill ran down my spine. “Who else would try to kill me? I haven’t pissed anyone off lately.”

“Other than the FBI, the county prosecutor, the Athena Sisterhood…” Byrd chuckled.

“I’m working with the Athena Sisterhood,” I clarified. “And I don’t think the feds or the Maricopa County Attorney’s Office shoot up people’s houses or drive classic muscle cars.”

“The guy at the Cactus Inn.”

“Why would he be after us? I paid him for the info and even rented a room.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like people asking too many questions.”

I shook my head and confirmed the Nova was still behind us.

“Old Man Wilkes, perhaps.”

“Doesn’t track.” I turned west on Indian School Road. The Nova stayed with us.

“Someone’s interested enough to keep tabs on you. Maybe you have a rabid fan who likes when you dress up as Wonder Woman. Like a stalker.”

A chill ran through me. I’d had a stalker once who had left a gift on my front doorstep in the form of a dead newspaper reporter. The stalker turned out to be Milo Volkov, the Chechen gangster whose brother, Sergei, was Penzler’s boss. Maybe Sergei was looking to tie up some loose ends. Loose ends like me.

The Nova continued to tail us up Sixty-Fourth Avenue and back onto Camelback. I pulled into the right lane, intentionally getting stuck behind one of the city buses that was stopped while passengers boarded. The Nova sat a few cars behind us for a minute before jumping back into the left lane, cutting off a delivery truck. It happened so fast I wasn’t able to catch a license plate.

As the bus resumed its route, my phone rang. I answered it in speaker mode.

“Ballou Fugitive Recovery.”

“Is this Detective Ballou?” asked a familiar male voice with a western twang.

“This is Jinx Ballou.”

“Well, howdy, Miss Ballou. This is Detective Atkinson with Scottsdale PD.”

Aw shit. “How’s it going, Detective?”

“Funny you should ask. I just had a most interesting conversation with a certain man of the cloth asking why a couple of my detectives had reopened the case into Fitzgerald’s death.”

“Is that so?”

“Miss Ballou, there’s an old saying, ‘Don't dig for water under the outhouse.’ Last I checked, you’re no longer a law enforcement officer, much less a member of my squad.

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