Page 37 of Into the Fire

Evan’s shoulders lowered another notch. He’d made a great effort to forget about the HOA meeting and the “nibbles” he was tasked with providing.

Stalling, he snuck another glance at the dappled red on his Original S.W.A.T. boots. There was no way he could join the others without their noticing. He raised one foot as if to scratch the opposing calf, wiping Papazian’s blood onto the back leg of his cargo pants. He had to do the same with his left boot without looking obvious.

And without looking like he was performing a rain dance.

Everyone waited on him expectantly.

He had no choice but to shift his weight and fake-scratch at his other leg.

At that moment a burst of music exploded from his pocket: AAAH LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE!

He fumbled out the RoamZone, saw Joey on the caller ID.

YOU OTHABROTHAZ CAN’T—

He thumbed the green button to stop the atrocious ringtone.

Joey’s voice came through. “Well, did you find him? What happened?”

Turning slightly from the stunned residents, Evan said in a low voice, “Impeccably bad timing. And the ringtone? Better go away.”

“Oh,” Joey said. “Oh, yeah. Sorry ’bout that.”

He hung up, gave a quick check of the wiped-clean toes of his boots, and approached the love seats. As long as he faced the others, they wouldn’t see the blood streaks on the backs of his pant legs.

He said flatly, “What happened to Ida?”

“Okay,” Lorilee said, shouldering her way to the front. “Well, I was stuck at my place last night because the cleaning lady was coming. And then I had to rush out to Pilates and, let’s see, grab an açai bowl for dinner—”

“Lorilee.” Evan told his face to smile but managed only an impatient twitch of the lips. “What happened to Ida?”

“Right. Sorry. So I got back late and found her bleeding on the sidewalk right out front.”

Evan felt his irritation harden into something sharper-edged. “What happened?”

Lorilee’s face broke, an approximation of sobbing. She threw her arms wide. “Can you just hold me?”

Evan said, “No.”

But it was too late. She collapsed into him, crying. Her breasts had about as much give as cannonballs.

Awkwardly he patted her back twice and extracted himself. “What happened?” he asked again.

“She got robbed,” Johnny Middleton said. “That classy necklace she was showing off? A guy clocked her and ripped it off. Sounds like some fucked-up shit, man. If I was there, I woulda…” He made a few choku-zuki punches in the air, his fist position too low and then too high. It looked like semicoordinated flailing. “I mean, who the hell decks a eighty-something-year-old lady?”

“It’s important that we all take proper precautions,” Hugh said. “Until this maniac is caught.”

“Is she at the hospital?” Evan asked.

“She’s back home now,” Hugh said with a paternal nod. “Resting.”

Evan felt that sharp-edged anger shift inside him again and reminded himself that Ida Rosenbaum and her antique jewelry were not his concern. He wouldn’t let anything derail him from the mission objectives.

“Thanks for letting me know,” Evan said. “I’ll keep an eye out.” He backed away toward the elevators, not wanting to expose the bloodstains at his calves.

Everyone was still looking at him. He found himself offering another little wave, a ridiculous flare of the hand that had inexplicably become his trademark.

It wasn’t until the elevator doors closed behind him that he realized he’d been holding his breath.