The 9th Judgment - James Patterson [57]
That was when she realized, too late, that her keys were in her tool bag and she’d locked her wallet in the glove box.
She was shoeless and miles from home without a dime.
What now?
Chapter 81
THE BRIGHT WINDOWS at Whole Foods were in sight when Sarah heard a car slowly coming up behind her on the dark street. The vehicle crawled, keeping pace with her, its headlights elongating her silhouette on the pavement.
Was it the cops?
Half out of her mind with fear, Sarah fought her compulsion to turn toward the car. Panic would show on her face. And if it was the cops and they stopped to question her—she was cooked.
Who was it? Who was trailing her?
A horn blared and then tires squealed as the vehicle behind her peeled out and flew past, an old silver SUV with a jerk hollering out the window, “Sweet ass, baby!” Sarah lowered her head as whoops of laughter receded.
Her red Saturn was where she had left it. She could see, by peering through Whole Foods’ front windows, that the store was nearly empty.
A sandy-haired boy was closing down the last open register. He looked up when Sarah approached. She said, “I locked myself out of my car. Could I borrow your phone?”
“There’s a pay phone outside,” he said, cocking a thumb over his shoulder. Then his expression changed.
“Ms. Wells. I’m Mark Ogrodnick. I was in your class about five years ago.”
Sarah’s heart revved up again and went into overdrive. Of all the stores in the world, how had she found the one place in Pacific Heights where someone knew her?
“Mark. Great to see you. May I borrow your phone? I have to call my husband.”
Mark stared down at her bare feet, at the bleeding gash on her shin. He opened his mouth and closed it, then fished his phone out of his back pocket and handed it to Sarah. She thanked him and walked down the produce aisle, dialing and then listening to the phone ring several times. Finally Heidi picked up.
“It’s me,” Sarah said. “I’m at Whole Foods. I locked myself out of my car.”
“Oh God, Sarah,” Heidi said. “I can’t come. The kids are sleeping.”
“Where’s Beastly?”
“He’s out, but he could walk in at any minute. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I love you. I’ll see you soon.”
“I love you, too.”
Ogrodnick looked up and switched off the neon light in the storefront window. Sarah had no choice. She dialed her home phone number and, for the first time ever, prayed that Trevor would pick up.
“Sarah, where the hell are you?” Terror asked with a sharp edge in his voice.
Meekly, Sarah told him.
Chapter 82
AFTER TREVOR THREATENED her, drank, shoved her around, and collected his marital due, he finished a six-pack and went to bed. Red-eyed, sore, and frightened, Sarah sat in his chair, squeezing the exercise ball. She changed hands, working her fingers until they were nearly numb. Then she shook out her hands and booted up her laptop.
Once she was on the Web, she clicked on Google News and typed “Hello Kitty” into the search bar.
To Sarah’s relief, there was no mention of the burglary at Diana King’s house. Not yet. But Sarah was worried about the tools she’d ditched in her steeplechase through Pacific Heights. Specifically, had she been wearing gloves when she changed the battery in her headlamp? She couldn’t remember.
And so Sarah searched her mind for an out. She’d dumped the tools in a trash bag near that small construction site. Maybe if someone found it, he’d think, Cool. Free stuff. Or maybe the trash bag would be tied and simply taken out to the curb.
Sarah thought about all the other stuff she’d left behind like a trail of bread crumbs: her sweater and socks and shoes. By themselves, they were nothing. But if her prints were on the battery, everything else could be used to back up the charges against her.
Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, if the shoe fits, you must nail her ass for twenty years without possibility of parole.
Sarah