Chapter 17
Okay. So maybe I didn't have this handled.
The woman Dane grabbed shrieked in horror.
Patrons gasped and stared.
I wanted to squeeze the trigger, but thought better of it.
Dane backed toward the exit with the woman in tow.
I should have called for backup before going into the bar. "How about you let her go, and we end this thing before it gets worse?”
Dane didn't give a shit. He'd already killed a cop. What was one more person?
"Come any closer, and I swear to God, I'll kill her!" he shouted as he backed out of the door, bringing the stringy blonde with him.
As soon as I reached the exit, I held up, then kicked it open.
I swung the barrel of my pistol around the corner.
By that time, the blonde was on the ground, and Dane’s sneakers pounded against the asphalt as he ran down the alley.
He craned his neck over his shoulder and aimed his pistol back at me.
Muzzle flash flickered, and the report echoed off the alley walls as he fired two shots.
I ducked for cover inside as the bullets blasted into the cinderblock wall, sending chips of debris in all directions.
After a beat, I pushed open the door again and angled my pistol around.
Dane was gone.
The blonde lay on the ground.
"Are you okay?"
With a frazzled look, she nodded.
I sprinted down the alley as fast as I could. My lungs sucked in breaths of air, and my feet grew wings. I held up at the corner, then rounded with caution.
My eyes swept the area.
No trace of Dane.
Pedestrians walked up and down the block. There were plenty of side streets and alleys to disappear in.
I called dispatch and told them I had spotted the fugitive and to send patrol units to the area.
I jogged back to the bar and stepped in through the back exit. By that time, the blonde had already walked back inside.
I stormed to the bartender and growled, "Where the hell is he staying?”
The bartender was early 30s with dark hair, brown eyes, and a muscular physique. He shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen him in a while."
"Bullshit. He comes in here every day."
"Like I said, this was the first time I’ve seen him in a month."
"Where is he staying?"
"I have no idea."
"You two are friends, aren't you?"
"Look, I don't know if I’d call him a friend. He's been coming into this bar for the last five years. I know him pretty well. But I’m close with all the regulars. I guess I’d call the regulars friends, but that doesn't mean I know anything about the intimate details of their lives."
He was deflecting.
"Do I need to remind you that aiding and abetting a fugitive makes you an accessory after the fact. Dane is wanted for murder."
His eyes narrowed at me. "I didn't aid or abet anybody. I poured him a drink. I'll pour you a drink if you pay me. Hell, I'll pour anybody a drink, as long as they are of age.”
"What's your name?"
"Rick."
I dug into my pocket and slapped a card on the bar counter. "You hear from him again, you call me. If you don't, I'll put you behind bars.”
I was pissed. I didn't particularly like it when people shot at me. That, combined with the kick to the nuts, had soured my mood for the evening.
I stepped back outside and hustled toward the Porsche.
My mood suddenly got worse.