She’d been shot above her left ear. The bullet had gone straight through, a hole in the wall, blood cascading down the drywall, pooling on the floor. How had she missed this?
The darkness. Being barely awake. The last four years. That’s what she’d tell herself for the rest of her days.
Hadn’t she heard her sigh? Hadn’t she just made a noise? Jennifer touched Maryann’s neck to check for a pulse. Her skin was still warm, but Jennifer felt nothing. She took Maryann by the wrist, pressed her thumb hard against the radial artery. Did she feel something? Or was that her own pulse?
The front door slammed open.
She dropped Maryann’s wrist, crouched low, moved through the family room, picked up Maryann’s gun. What was she going to do?
Whatever it took.
She’d chosen this life. And now someone was here to take it from her.
A voice came into her head.
Never let anyone into our house.
“Mama?”
Jennifer turned around, half expected to find the intruder standing in the kitchen, but no one was there.
She grabbed Maryann’s car keys from the dish on the counter. Maryann’s cell phone.
She walked into the foyer.
“Mama?” William called again. He stood at the top of the stairs.
“Keep quiet, sweetheart,” she said. “Don’t make a sound.”
Calm.
Cool.
The front door banged against the wall, the dead bolt still out.
She turned off the foyer light.
Frosty as could be.
But if they come, never let them leave.
“Mama, I can’t see you.”
Now. Run.
“I’ll be right there,” she said.
“Mama!”
More plaintive now. Anyone still in the house could hear her child, easily find her child.
No drawers were open. Nothing was taken. This was a hit.
Professional. Silent. Deadly.
Take out the FBI agent.
Make sure no backup was coming.
Finish the job.
Baby, the voice in her head said. Except it wasn’t just any voice. It was Sal. Like he was standing right behind her.
Baby.
Listen to me.
Run.
THIRTEEN
SATURDAY, APRIL 20, 2002
INDIO, CA
MATTHEW DREW’S ROOM ON THE SEVENTEENTH FLOOR OF THE FANTASY Palms Resort Casino in Indio faced west, which gave him a panoramic view of the entire Coachella Valley. At dawn, with the sun rising behind him, the valley glowed fuchsia, pink, and orange, cloaking everything in hues that reminded Matthew of an old Polaroid photo, as if he were already in the middle of a memory. Wouldn’t that be nice, then all this madness would be done. Barely six in the morning and already Matthew knew today would be a long-ass day. Could be he didn’t walk away from it. Could be he walked away from it with a body on his sheet.
Either way, he was going to put some shit to bed, which would be a nice change. Matthew tried all night to get some rest, but he woke up every fifteen minutes or so, sure someone was bursting into his room, even though the name on it wasn’t his own. Marvin gave him a Nevada driver’s license and a Mastercard for someone named Jarret Keene, told him it was good enough to pass muster at a hotel but not to show it to a cop if he didn’t want to end up in a gunfight.
