Open Season (Alex Delaware #40)

Chapter 45

Chapter

45

Cameron Flick drove assuredly to where Green Briar turned into Ramsey Drive, then onward to Escondido Drive and Haig Terrace, where he glided to a smooth stop at Ventura Boulevard, made an easy right, crossed to the left-turn lane, paused for the light at Sepulveda, and was back on the Pass moments later.

Petra radioed: “Maybe he’s going back home.”

This time she was right.

—

By the time the BMW pulled onto Flick’s street two blocks from its destination, Milo was waiting for it, concealed by the shadows of an obligingly massive deodar cedar tree sprouting from the front yard of Flick’s landlady’s house. Heavy branches hung nearly to the ground. Good cover in the darkness.

From where I sat in the Impala, he’d disappeared.

Alicia and Sean had also made it in time for Flick’s arrival. She’d parked four car lengths north of Flick’s residence, he the same distance south.

Petra and Raul had held back so Flick wouldn’t notice them following, and Moe’s drive took him a few extra minutes. All three were relegated to positions half a block north. Flick paid them no notice as he cruised by.

As the BMW swept onto the driveway, Alicia and Sean got out, armed themselves, and ran silently forward on rubber-soled feet.

Flick got out of the car, wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. Carrying nothing. He’d walked a couple of bouncy steps before Milo materialized, Glock pointing, shouting.

“Police hands on your head where I can see them on your head now now now!”

Flick stood there, disobedient hands remaining at his sides. Clenched. Sean came up from behind and tackled him and while he was down, Alicia cuffed him.

They both yanked him up. Milo faced him.

I got out of the car just in time to hear, “Cameron Flick, you’re under arrest for four counts of murder. You have the right…”

If Flick remained stunned by capture, he wasn’t showing it. He sagged but not from despair. Wanting to increase the burden of his weight on Sean and Alicia. As Milo recited, he raised an eyebrow. Not the predator’s eyes from the art party. The blandness of his DMV photo.

He yawned.

“…anything you say can and will be—”

Flick smirked. A drawling voice said, “Like I never heard that on stupid TV.”

Milo said, “You’re going to hear it again.”

“That,” said Flick, “is because you’re a redundant moron.”

Suddenly his shoulders rose.

Alicia said, “What’s in your hands? Unclench them.”

Flick stiffened. Ignored the command. Sean forced his left hand open.

Nothing.

On to the right hand. Something fell to the ground.

White, a loose blossom.

Gripping a flower? No, a wadded tissue, unfurling. Alicia gloved up and tweezed it between her fingers.

Sniffed.

“Gross,” she said. “Talk about foreplay, Cammie.”

Return of the hunter’s eyes. Flick writhed and spat at her. Barely missed polluting her face.

Sean kicked Flick’s legs out from under him. Flick pitched forward and Sean guided him facedown onto the driveway.

Milo turned to Alicia.“You okay?”

She said, “Yeah. He’s good with a gun but his mouth is a joke.”

“I’ve got masks in my trunk.”

I went and fetched two.

Double-masked, cuffed, and prone, Flick seemed to wilt.

Milo called for a patrol car for transport.

Flick said, “You are all so incredibly stupid. ”

Milo said, “Let’s start from the beginning. You have the right…”

“Lawyer,” said Flick. “Lawyer-lawyer-lawyer-lawyer-lawyer.”