He shut the wood stove’s iron door and went to sit beside her. “What are youdrawing?”
She gave an irritated little shake of her head. “It’s me being stupid and literal. Shoals called the evidence dots, so I made dots. So far, all I have isdots.”
Joaquin looked at the page, saw dots labeled with the names of the killer’s victims and a dot for Mia. “It might work if you knew how to arrangethem.”
“What do youmean?”
“You’d have to know why he’s doing this, understand what each victim represents to him, right? Then you’d know how to arrange the dots, and you’d get your picture—metaphoricallyspeaking.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do. I just can’t figure out what Powell would have against Andy and Jason.” She closed her eyes, pressed her fingers to her temple. “I wish Shoals hadn’t given these to me. I don’t want to look at them, and yet I can’t stop myself. Can you get rid of them forme?”
“Are yousure?”
She nodded. “If I keep staring atthem…”
She didn’t need to saymore.
He took the printouts and walked over to the woodstove, then opened the door and fed them to thefire.
* * *
He stood justinside the alley, huddled against the snow, his head feeling as if it were about to explode. Where was thatasshole?
He should have waited till spring or summer to do this. It was too fucking cold to be out like this inwinter.
Cold. Cold.Cold.
He saw his d-boy hurrying down the street and stepped back into the shadows, taking the bills he’d lifted from Frank out of his pocket. It had been nice of the bastard to come loaded with cash. He’d probably been planning to pay his hooker, but he hadn’t been that lucky. No last fuck forhim.
The Doctor looked over his shoulder, then stepped into the alley and walked over to him, hands in his coat pockets. He probably had a piece hidden there. “You gotcash?”
“You’re late. My head is fucking killing me. What yougot?”
“Sixty Oxy—ten mgs each and ten bucks ashot.”
He didn’t have six hundred bucks. “I got them for a fiver each last time. I’ll give you threehundred.”
The Doctor shook his stupid head. “Costs go up. Expenses go up. Hey, I’m abusinessman.”
He got in the dude’s face. “You think I’m just another fucking junky? I’m a veteran, man. I was injured in Iraq. Mustard gas. Doesn’t that mean anything toyou?”
“Why are you wasting time with Oxy, man? You should be using therealstuff. It’s easier to get, and it will take away your pain.” Docsmiled.
“Heroin.” He shook his head. “No way. That shit isexpensive.”
Doc shrugged. “You get what you pay for. Do needles scareyou?”
“Needles? Fuck, no.” He lived with them—needles in his brain, in hiseyes.
Stabbing, stabbing,stabbing.
Would heroin do a better job of helping him thanOxy?
It’s not like he had to worry about getting addicted—not when he planned to blow his own headoff.
“How ’bout this—twenty-five Oxy for two hundred, and another hundred for five good doses ofsmack.”
That would only get him through a couple ofdays.