Hell by Hilary Norman

flailing dancers and drinkers – and knew.
    Soon as he set eyes on him.
    It was, he had begun to think, his greatest talent.
    Knowing who to pick out for his boss.
    Not for himself – he’d never been gifted in that department, but for the man he seemed to get it right almost every time, which was one of the main reasons he was still on the payroll.
    Not the only reason though.
    He took a slug of the lousy vodka someone had handed him, and made his way through the crowd.
    Eye contact already established.
    Eyes were very important to the man , and this guy’s were just about perfect. Darkly dancing. Friendly and bold.
    He was up for it, no question.
    â€˜Hey,’ he said.
    â€˜Hey,’ the other man said back, in a low, warm voice.
    The Boss liked good voices too.
    â€˜Feel like getting out of here?’
    No reason to linger.
    Every reason not to.
    â€˜Sure,’ the other guy said. ‘Why not?’
    He smelled OK, so far as it was possible to be certain in this stinkhole of cheap perfume, body odors and all kinds of smoke.
    Fragrance was another plus.
    â€˜I’m Rico,’ the target said.
    Somewhere deeper inside the warehouse there was a bang and women shrieked, and then there was raucous laughter and more loud banging, cracking, like fireworks, maybe.
    â€˜You got a name?’ Rico wanted to know.
    â€˜You can call me Toy.’
    â€˜I like that,’ Rico said.
    From a distance, they heard sirens, coming closer.
    â€˜Let’s get out of here,’ Toy said.
    Mission, Stage One: check.

TWELVE
    April 25
    A nticlimax hit Grace hard on Sunday.
    Post-wedding, post-opera, those fine distractions past, as if all the preparations and the big day itself and, finally, last night’s outing with Sam, had formed a kind of protective bubble, keeping out the inky darkness of the threat she still felt looming over them.
    All her unease was back today.
    Sam was at work on the John Doe killing with Martinez – both of them, she knew, feeling the frustration that came with working blind – and she knew, too, that Sam had been behind Cathy’s and Saul’s insistence that she and Joshua come for lunch at the apartment they shared in Sunny Isles Beach, which irked her just a little because it brought home the fact that he was worried by her edginess.
    Not that she wasn’t glad to be with them, and she was touched by their concern, but long after they’d eaten and lazed around for a couple of hours, they were still encouraging her to stay, plainly trying to keep her there till Sam got home.
    â€˜We’re not playing that game,’ she told them both. ‘Bay Harbor PD are still patrolling, and even if they weren’t, I’m sure I’d be perfectly safe.’
    â€˜At least let Saul go back with you,’ Cathy said. ‘Check the place out.’
    â€˜It would make me a whole lot happier,’ Saul said.
    â€˜Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Grace said. ‘It’s so unnecessary.’
    â€˜We don’t think so,’ Cathy said. ‘Nor would Sam.’
    Grace and Sam were her parents in every sense that mattered, but Cathy had never called them ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’. Her biological father had been an evil man. Her mother and beloved stepfather – the first man to have adopted her – had both been horrifically murdered. ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ bore too many bad connotations. Sam and Grace had been Cathy’s fresh start.
    â€˜All right,’ Grace said now, giving in.
    She told them she was doing it for their peace of mind, but the truth was that she did feel idiotically relieved watching her young brother-in-law checking around the place until he was satisfied.
    â€˜You sure you want me to go?’ Saul asked when he was done.
    â€˜Of course I want you to go,’ Grace said.
    She looked and sounded light-hearted, confident and calm.
    Little point, after all, in letting Saul know the