course, the Sasquatch getup was not being worn at the moment, but the brain behind the mask had begun to think in those terms. It seemed a good label. Or perhaps—The Artist Formerly Known as Sasquatch.
After the night of the murder, after the woman escaped, Sasquatch had paced the streets of the city, but after several days without spotting her, he became convinced she must have fled town. What a relief it was, then, to see that familiar face strolling out of a video store this afternoon.
And how grim to see her toting a VCR. Sasquatch didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what that was for. She had been carrying a video camera; it was the main reason Sasquatch had charged her. If anyone studied it closely—well, best not to even think about it.
Sasquatch had to get that tape. And her, too.
Sasquatch folded the binoculars and tucked them into a coat pocket. Best not to attract any attention. Best to keep a low profile. Best not to let anyone draw a connection between Sasquatch and that woman, whoever she was.
Because there was a good chance Sasquatch was going to have to kill her.
Chapter 6
B EN WAS NOT HAVING a good night. He had always been a vivid dreamer, but tonight’s show was even more vivid than usual. Some of the dreams were standard-issue material: showing up in court in his underwear; being seduced by his childhood babysitter. But some of them were new: seeing his old Episcopal Sunday-school teacher shaking her head in disappointment; being tried in the Court of Celestial Appeals for murder—the murder of hundreds of thousands of old-growth trees. He even dreamed he’d been thrown into jail and was thrashing about on a rock-hard metal cot. Except—
His eyes opened.
Damn. That one was true, wasn’t it?
“I knew you were looking for a new pied-à-terre, Ben, but I really think you should have consulted me before you made this selection.”
The voice was very familiar. Even before he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, Ben knew who was standing on the other side of the metal bars.
“Good morning, Christina. About time you showed up.”
“Hey, I made the best time I could. I booked the first available flight tout de suite , after I played your rather desperate-sounding message on my machine.”
“You’d be desperate, too, if you got only one phone call and you used it chatting with someone’s answering machine.” He peered blurry-eyed through the cell bars. She was wearing an all-combat ensemble—green fatigue pants with a flak jacket draped over a khaki shirt. Plus a kelly green hairband in her expansive red hair. “I thought you were trying to dress more conservatively. Now that you’re a serious law student.”
She checked herself. “What’re you talking about? This is conservative. Besides, you’re the one who dragged me out to the great Northwest. Everyone dresses this way.”
“Maybe in the Montana Militia, but not around here.” He forced himself to his feet. “Have you figured out a way to make my bail?”
“I figured out it was impossible, even if we sold both our combined assets for twice their worth. So I tried something else.”
“Which was?”
“Getting the bookstore owner to drop the charges.”
“Fat chance of that. He’s—”
“—already agreed to do it.”
Ben’s eyes widened. “He’s—”
“—already agreed.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Would I lie?”
“But—”
“The only thing that man ever wanted was to get rid of the cat. Unfortunately, after you made such a cause célèbre of it, the vet canceled the appointment, and none of the other vets in the area would euthanize the cat either.”
“Tough luck.”
“So I told him I’d take care of it. If he dropped the charges. Which he did.”
Ben was flabbergasted. “Christina, you’re a miracle worker. I’m eternally in your debt.”
She smiled. “Truth is, he was beginning to feel guilty. He was glad to let someone else execute the cat for him.”
Ben blanched.
After the night of the murder, after the woman escaped, Sasquatch had paced the streets of the city, but after several days without spotting her, he became convinced she must have fled town. What a relief it was, then, to see that familiar face strolling out of a video store this afternoon.
And how grim to see her toting a VCR. Sasquatch didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what that was for. She had been carrying a video camera; it was the main reason Sasquatch had charged her. If anyone studied it closely—well, best not to even think about it.
Sasquatch had to get that tape. And her, too.
Sasquatch folded the binoculars and tucked them into a coat pocket. Best not to attract any attention. Best to keep a low profile. Best not to let anyone draw a connection between Sasquatch and that woman, whoever she was.
Because there was a good chance Sasquatch was going to have to kill her.
Chapter 6
B EN WAS NOT HAVING a good night. He had always been a vivid dreamer, but tonight’s show was even more vivid than usual. Some of the dreams were standard-issue material: showing up in court in his underwear; being seduced by his childhood babysitter. But some of them were new: seeing his old Episcopal Sunday-school teacher shaking her head in disappointment; being tried in the Court of Celestial Appeals for murder—the murder of hundreds of thousands of old-growth trees. He even dreamed he’d been thrown into jail and was thrashing about on a rock-hard metal cot. Except—
His eyes opened.
Damn. That one was true, wasn’t it?
“I knew you were looking for a new pied-à-terre, Ben, but I really think you should have consulted me before you made this selection.”
The voice was very familiar. Even before he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, Ben knew who was standing on the other side of the metal bars.
“Good morning, Christina. About time you showed up.”
“Hey, I made the best time I could. I booked the first available flight tout de suite , after I played your rather desperate-sounding message on my machine.”
“You’d be desperate, too, if you got only one phone call and you used it chatting with someone’s answering machine.” He peered blurry-eyed through the cell bars. She was wearing an all-combat ensemble—green fatigue pants with a flak jacket draped over a khaki shirt. Plus a kelly green hairband in her expansive red hair. “I thought you were trying to dress more conservatively. Now that you’re a serious law student.”
She checked herself. “What’re you talking about? This is conservative. Besides, you’re the one who dragged me out to the great Northwest. Everyone dresses this way.”
“Maybe in the Montana Militia, but not around here.” He forced himself to his feet. “Have you figured out a way to make my bail?”
“I figured out it was impossible, even if we sold both our combined assets for twice their worth. So I tried something else.”
“Which was?”
“Getting the bookstore owner to drop the charges.”
“Fat chance of that. He’s—”
“—already agreed to do it.”
Ben’s eyes widened. “He’s—”
“—already agreed.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Would I lie?”
“But—”
“The only thing that man ever wanted was to get rid of the cat. Unfortunately, after you made such a cause célèbre of it, the vet canceled the appointment, and none of the other vets in the area would euthanize the cat either.”
“Tough luck.”
“So I told him I’d take care of it. If he dropped the charges. Which he did.”
Ben was flabbergasted. “Christina, you’re a miracle worker. I’m eternally in your debt.”
She smiled. “Truth is, he was beginning to feel guilty. He was glad to let someone else execute the cat for him.”
Ben blanched.
Similar Books
