Page 7 of Chasing Creed

But then he thumbed at her windshield. “I used to have an Australian Shepherd. Best dog ever.”

She preferred to keep quiet. She wanted to be invisible. She wasn’t good at social interaction. But being rude would be memorable.

“That’s good to hear,” she told him, continuing to pull the squeegee from the off-colored water bin. “I’ve never had one before.”

“They’re loyal to a fault. Believe me, you won’t need a security system. Have a good day.” And off he went to his SUV two lanes over.

“You, too.” But her response was a beat too slow. She really needed to practice. It was so much harder than it looked.

As she washed the windshield, the dog’s mismatched eyes followed the squeegee back and forth. One ear stayed folded, the other pitched straight up and alert. The dog made itself comfortable on an old blanket Sara had placed in the passenger seat. It looked like it belonged right there, that is, if you couldn’t see the blood matted into the fur.

Loyal to a fault. She paused, and the dog met her eyes through the glass. That’s what got you hurt, isn’t it?

Sara replaced the squeegee. Then with a sleight of hand took the stolen credit card from her back pocket, rubbed away any possible fingerprints although she still had the skintight gloves on. She wrapped the card in the sopping paper towel. Just as casually, she tossed the wad into the nearby trash can.

It was a self-imposed rule. Never use a stolen credit card longer than two hours from when it was taken. No matter how tempting. Only use self-service lanes. Keep away from the cameras. The former was an easy task with more grocery and convenience stores using self-checkouts.

She’d barely slid back inside the truck when the burner phone started vibrating in the console’s cup holder. It startled the dog. Sara clenched her teeth.

This phone was never supposed to ring.

Her fingers fisted before she shook her irritation out of them. Even as she picked it up, the second vibration felt like electrical stings.

Only one person had the number, but Sara wasn’t surprised when it wasn’t that person’s voice that greeted her.

“Where are you right now?” The man was trying to make his low, gravelly voice sound as if he were an old friend.

They were not friends.

“Just crossed the Wyoming border,” Sara lied. He didn’t deserve the truth. Orlando might have eyes everywhere, including the sky, but she had taken extra precautions. Like this particular burner phone. She had chosen it because it had no GPS capability. “Iris gave you this number.” She stated the obvious, but she wanted him to know she wasn’t happy about it.

“I think she agrees with me that, you know, it would be easier if we worked together.”

No, she didn’t know. And she doubted that Iris had said anything close to that. The fact that the old woman had both of them doing the same task didn’t sit well with Sara. Also, she knew Orlando well enough to know he didn’t work together with anyone. They worked for him. But she said none of this. Instead, she didn’t answer at all.

Her mind swirled with questions. Did he know that she had made it to the house after him? Had he been there somewhere? Watching? She wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he’d been waiting for her to arrive, knowing she was too late. He’d have a good laugh seeing her run through the woods. Drenched from the downpour.

“You have your list. I have mine,” she told him.

That should be the end of the discussion. Now, she waited him out. Long ago, she’d learned the benefits of listening. Recognized the value of knowing when to be quiet. Most people were uncomfortable with silence. Orlando was one of them.

“I know, I know,” he finally said, but he wouldn’t let it end there. “You don’t work with anybody. I remember. I get that. I have this idiot working for me now. He thinks with his dick. Impulsive. No patience. The damn kid has me hooked on his candy cigarettes.”

“Where are you?” Sara decided to ask. If he wanted to play games, she could play, too.

“Still in Mississippi.”

It was amazing how easily his lies came. But at the same time, Sara felt relieved. He didn’t know she’d gotten to the same house here in Nebraska. The one he'd beaten her to and had just left.

“What do you want, Orlando?”

“Thought it would be a professional courtesy to tell each other, so we don’t waste each other’s time with any crossovers.”

Courtesy. Now, that was a strange word to come out of his mouth.

“Wanted to save you the trouble. Maybe you’ll return the courtesy. I eliminated number eight. Not an easy task. That bitch had a bitch. A real hellhound watching over her. Gonna have to tell the old woman. That certainly wasn’t in the file. Like I had to kill two birds for the cost of one.”

Sara glanced over at the dog. Of course, you were hers.