Body of Shadows by Jack Shadows

car. In just this one night, Cave was probably getting more to kill the guy than the guy had made in his entire lifetime.
    He must have seen something he shouldn't have.
    It didn't matter.
    Whoever Smyth was, Cave was getting paid.
    Unlike Denver where the thin mile-high air turned to a refrigerator at night, here it was still in the 80's and oppressive.
    A mosquito bit Cave's arm.
    He smashed it and flicked it off.
    Lots of windows were open.
    He would need to be quiet.
    He'd sneak in and kill the man in his sleep.
    The only sound would be metal sinking into flesh, possibly followed by an exhale of air from dead lungs.
     
    Cave moved swiftly, a sliver of shadow in the night.
    Suddenly a dog barked.
    He turned.
    A dark silhouette was behind him, closing the gap with a straight silent run, not more than two steps behind. It was a man, a large man, a large man with a nylon mask stretched taut over his face. He raised his arm. In it was a knife. A reflection bounced off the blade, then the reflection disappeared and the weapon swung with a fast fury directly at Cave's face.

     
    19
    Day Two
    July 19
    Tuesday Morning
     
    Pantage got dropped off at her house Tuesday morning before sunrise. The storm of last night was gone, leaving smoky remnants of clouds up top and puddles down below. Drift checked the house, made sure everything was safe, then asked if he could borrow her lipstick. When she handed it to him, he wrote Thanks on her bathroom mirror, gave her a kiss and said, "I'll call you later."
    "Okay."
    "Don't have sex with anyone until I get there."
    She smiled.
    Then she got serious.
    "Email me the dates and places of those other murders. I need to be sure."
    "You're wasting your time but fine."
    Then he was gone.
    Pantage pulled the Big Sur photo out of her purse, flipped it over and looked at the subscription on the back.
    London.
    London.
    London.
    Who are you?
    There had to be something around here somewhere that would answer the question.
    There were only a few boxes in the attic.
    They contained things, not papers.
    Same for the garage.
    She had no photo albums.
    On reflection, that was strange.
    The master bedroom had a walk-in closet that could best be described as a dumping ground. She went through it for ten minutes before coming to an old shoebox buried on the top shelf in the back.
    It was taped shut and covered with dust.
    She opened it.
    Inside she found a California driver's license with her photo on it and the name London Winger.
     
    Her chest pounded.
    There was also a passport in the name of London Winger with her photo on it. It was stamped for England, France and Italy, all in June four years ago.
    There were twenty or thirty photos.
    She was in a lot of them with friends, others she wasn't in at all. She recognized one of the friends as the same one from the photo on her office credenza. The other friends she didn't recognize at all. She read the backs, looking for names. She found the one she already knew, namely Chiara, except this time there was a last name, Chiara de Correggio. She found a few new names.
    Michelle.
    Sepia.
    Alexis.
    There were no men in any of the photos.
    She stuck everything back in and put the box on the nightstand next to the bed, then headed for the shower.
    The water was hot.
    The room was dark.
    One thing was clear.
    Pantage Phair wasn't her real name.
    Her real name was London Winger.
    At some point in the last three of four years, it got changed and she relocated from California to Colorado.
    Why?
    Was she on the run?
    Had she done something similar to Jackie Lake back in California?
    Was she the serial killer Drift was looking for?
     
    Drift.
    He had his hooks in her, he knew it and she knew it. If she didn't break loose by the end of the day it would be forever too late.
    He was a drug.

     
    20
    Day Two
    July 19
    Tuesday Morning
     
    Getting to work Tuesday morning before anyone else, Drift flicked on the fluorescents, kick-started the coffee and worked up a warrant