Chapter Seventeen
It was Friday night, and Rick had parked where he could see the studio exit without being under the main lights.
From here, he had a clear view of the lot and the back corner near the loading bay where the cameras didn’t reach.
He’d checked it earlier in the week. There was a camera over the front gate, one angled down the main drive, and a third pointing at the staff entrance, but none of them caught the strip of asphalt behind the dumpsters. Perfect.
A car rolled past on the road beyond the fence, headlights sliding across the metal in a slow sweep.
Rick shifted his gaze to the far end of the parking area.
Elliot’s car sat where it always did, slightly crooked in its bay.
Rick had been there earlier. He’d used a screwdriver to puncture the tire, low enough that a casual glance wouldn’t catch it.
The studio door opened, and Elliot stepped out first, with his phone in his hand. He paused at the top of the steps and said something over his shoulder, then laughed before waving and walking across the parking lot.
When Elliot reached his car, his steps slowed. He stared at the front tire, then he swore, and then kicked the tire. “Fuck!”
Elliot lifted his phone when Rick opened his door and stepped into the cold. He didn’t slam the door shut because he didn’t want to draw Elliot’s attention to him. He walked across the lot, hands down at his sides, head slightly lowered so Elliot couldn’t see him.
When Elliot heard Rick approaching, he glanced over at him, his eyes widening in surprise. “Rick?” He squinted, then smiled. “Is that you?”
Rick lifted a hand and returned Elliot’s smile, even though he didn’t feel it. “Yeah.”
“What the hell—” Elliot glanced around, then back at the tire. “How are you?”
Rick’s gaze flicked to the flat tire. He let it sit between them for a second, like it was the reason he’d come over. “Looks like you’ve got a problem.”
Elliot huffed a laugh and angled the phone in his hand. “Yeah, no kidding. I’ll get someone out. There’s a guy who does call-outs for the studio. He owes me one.”
“Unlucky,” Rick said.
Elliot shrugged like a flat tire was just a delay, and nothing more. “It happens.”
Rick stopped a few feet away, close enough that Elliot could see his face properly now. Close enough that Elliot’s smile started to thin.
“You didn’t answer my message,” Elliot said.
Rick stared at him. “I saw your interview.”
Elliot’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh. That.”
Rick kept his voice even. “You had a lot to say.”
“It was nothing but a puff piece. You know how those go.”
“It didn’t sound like nothing.”
Elliot held Rick’s gaze, still trying to play it off. “Come on. It’s not like I called you a murderer.” He laughed again, too loudly this time. “I said you can be difficult. Which you can.”
Rick’s jaw tightened, and he narrowed his eyes at Elliot.
Elliot noticed and shifted his position so he leaned away from Rick. “Rick,” he said, slower now. “Seriously. It’s no big deal.”
Rick took another step closer, his gloved hands balling into fists.
Elliot’s eyes flicked down and back up, tracking him. “Hey—”
“You ran your mouth,” Rick muttered.
Elliot lifted his hand. “About what? That you’re intense? That you’ve got a temper? Everyone knows that.”
Rick’s mouth twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “Really?”
“Look, if it pissed you off, fine. I’m sorry. I’ll fix it and I’ll tell them I was joking. I’ll—”
Rick cut him off. “You don’t get to fix it.”
Elliot’s laugh died completely. He stared at Rick, his eyes tracking every move Rick made. “You’re overreacting,” Elliot stated. “You know what your problem is? You think the world owes you something. You had your moment, Rick, and now it’s over. People move on, and you should too.”
Rick didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. “Say it again.”
Elliot swallowed. The bravado slipped, but he suddenly straightened and faced Rick. “You heard me.”
Rick’s hand moved to his waistband and brought the gun up in one motion. A compact handgun. Small enough to disappear, but big enough to do the job.
Elliot’s mouth opened, then closed again. “Rick…” He lifted both hands slowly, the phone still held in his right one. His voice dropped into that calm, placating tone people used on unpredictable animals. “Okay. Okay, man. Jesus. Put it down.”
Rick smiled. “You should’ve kept my name out of your mouth,” Rick said.
Elliot shook his head fast. “I didn’t mean it like—”
Rick didn’t give him the chance to finish. Rick fired the gun. The sound was loud in the empty lot and Elliot jolted like he’d been shoved. His face went slack with shock, his eyes wide, his breath stuttering. A wet sound came out of him as he looked down at his chest.
He slowly looked back up, his mouth falling open.
“Rick—” He didn’t finish before his legs gave out and his knees hit the ground.
For a second he stayed there, braced on one hand, trying to breathe.
Then he tipped forward and went down face-first onto the ground, his phone skittering out of his hand and spinning across the ground before it stopped.
Rick didn’t immediately move. He stood still and listened. All he heard was the distant sound of traffic and the faint hum of electricity from the lights. He scanned the lot, the gate, and the door. He glanced at the dark strip near the loading bay, but there was no movement anywhere.
Rick crouched, searched for Elliot’s wallet, and tugged it free. He didn’t bother checking what was inside. He straightened, looking down at Elliot like he was something that had gotten under his shoe.
“Stupid bastard,” Rick muttered, and then he turned and walked toward Elliot’s phone, where it lay on the ground. Rick stepped over and picked it up. He turned it in his palm, then used his sleeve to wipe the glass clean before he slid the phone into his pocket.
Glancing at Elliot’s body, Rick noticed the watch. It wasn’t an expensive model, but it was nice enough to justify a robbery. Rick crouched and unfastened it, the clasp catching for a second before it gave. He pocketed it without looking at it, then he made it look like someone had searched him.
Rick stepped back and checked the area again. From the staff entrance, it would look like a man had gone down beside his car. From the main drive, it was harder to see. Rick nodded to himself, then turned and walked back to his own car. Once there, he got in and sat for a minute, simply breathing.
When he was ready, he started the engine and pulled out, driving the route he’d already chosen. Not the one that took him straight home. The one he’d picked took the long way back. He merged with the slow line of late traffic and became another set of taillights heading home.
At a red light, he took the phone out and looked at it. It was still unlocked. Elliot had been mid-call when he’d died. Rick scrolled quickly, checking calls and messages, and notes. Finding nothing important, Rick switched the phone off and slid it back into his pocket.
When he got home, he pulled into his usual space and sat for a minute before getting out. Inside his apartment, he locked the door behind him and went straight to the utility room.
He stripped off his outer layers, folded them, and shoved them in the washing machine. In the bathroom, he washed his hands with hot water and soap, scrubbing under his nails even though he’d worn gloves, then he took the gun out, checked it, wiped it down, and put it away where it belonged.
Only after that did he deal with what he’d taken. He emptied Elliot’s cash into a drawer and tossed the wallet and cards into a bag by the door. The watch went in with it along with the phone, which was last. Rick stood over the bag for a second, then tied it off.
Pouring himself a drink, Rick sat down and ignored his phone when it buzzed.
Leaning back, he picked up the remote and turned the TV on, keeping the volume low.
He didn’t watch anything, and he knew Elliot wouldn’t make the news yet.
Someone had to find his body first and report it to the police.
Sometime after that, it would hit the news, and Rick would see it.
He sipped his drink and let the smile he’d kept back spread across his face.
Elliot would be found, and it would be a robbery gone wrong, just as Rick had planned it.
Rick continued to smile as he focused on what mattered.
Elliot wasn’t going to talk again, and nothing Elliot had said would spread any further than it already had.