Page 135 of The Newcomer
Vikki was watching the two men stare each other down, each assessing the size of the other’s balls. At any moment she expected one to sniff the other’s butt.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw someone approaching. It was a scrawny elderly man, who’d just emerged, dripping wet, from the Gulf. With growing horror she recognized the pale, hairless chest, the rubber swim goggles perched atop his bald head. He was fastening a towel around his waist as he walk-trotted toward them.
“Hey Joe,” he hailed, waving his arm in greeting. Water was still streaming from his body as he approached the trio standing only a few yards away.
“Hey Joe!” he repeated.
DeCurtis turned at the sound of the old guy’s voice.
“Wow, that was some excitement this morning, huh? Did Letty tell you, it was the same guy I spotted creeping around last night? And then he come back here, and he tried to grab Maya. You think that’s what he was after? Letty and Maya?” He nodded at Vikki. “I heard that guy broke into your room and stole your gun, too. Did the cops get it back to you yet?”
Oscar Jensen was oblivious to the drama unfolding before him. He greeted Wingfield with a broad smile and extended his hand. “How ya doing? I’m Oscar. So, are you checking into the motel today? Which unit?”
“Hiya,” Evan said to Oscar. “So, you know Letty?”
“Oh sure. Everybody knows her,” Oscar said. He gave Joe a broad wink. “Especially this guy right here. You think we don’t know you’re sweet on our Letty?”
Wingfield’s eyes narrowed as he looked from the old man to DeCurtis to Vikki. “What the fuck?”
“Huh?” Oscar looked from Joe to Vikki. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Oscar,” Joe said, his voice quiet and deadly calm. “You need to go away. Right now.”
“Oh. Okay. Never mind.” The old man started to scuttle backtoward the water, but Evan reached out and grabbed him by the elbow.
“Oww,” Oscar complained. “That hurts. Hey Joe, who is this guy? Don’t he know you’re a cop?”
Evan grasped Oscar by his right shoulder, twisted his arm behind his back, and shoved him in front of himself, like a frail, shivering human shield.
“Where’s my kid?” he demanded.
Joe had worked his gun out of his waistband and was pointing it directly at Wingfield.
“Let him go, Wingfield. And I’ll take you to Maya.”
“You’ll take me to her anyway, or I’ll break his fucking neck.” He glanced over at Vikki Hill, who’d taken two steps closer and had now drawn her Glock.
Wingfield shook his head as a warning and twisted Oscar’s arm so viciously he cried out in pain.
“Back away, Vikki. I just want my kid. That’s all. Take me to her. Now.”
Joe locked eyes with the FBI agent. She raised one shoulder in a helpless gesture and pointed at one of the blue-and-white-striped tents two hundred yards away.
“She’s over there, in that cabana.”
“By herself?”
“No.” Vikki hesitated. “Letty’s with her.”
“Give me your gun,” Wingfield ordered. He wrapped one arm tightly around Oscar’s neck. “Do it now, or I’ll snap this old bastard in half.”
“How do you think this is going to end?” Vikki countered. She nodded at DeCurtis. “Just to be very clear, this is Detective Joe DeCurtis. Not a real contract killer.”
“But the gun’s real,” Joe said. “Let go of Oscar, or I’ll use it.”
“Don’t think so,” Wingfield said. He drove his elbow up and into Oscar’s throat and the old man gurgled, his eyes rolling up in his head in terror.
“Take me to my daughter. Now.”
