Racing the Light (Elvis Cole #19; Joe Pike #8)
Robert Crais
For Martha De Laurentiis, a light in the sky
Acknowledgments
Lauren Crais, Carol Topping, and Pat Crais: Guardian angels during perilous times. Gary Tanouye, the Elvis Cole of physicians. Alfredo Trento, Dominick Megna, and PK Shah. Diane Friedman, Max Sherman, Gregg Hurwitz, and Kim Dower: Thanks for the love, the encouragement, and the miles. Randy Sherman flew cover and had my six: Five-One-Charlie, thanks for the help. Aaron Priest and Lucy Childs: The long detour is behind us. My editor, Mark Tavani, whose ideas, questions, insights, and thoughtful collaboration made this novel immeasurably better: Thank you.
Josh Shoe
Los Feliz
1:16 a.m.
Josh agreed to meet her at the Coffee Club, which was where they’d met the first time he interviewed her. The Coffee Club wasn’t actually a club, a misnomer Josh found annoying, though he was a regular customer. The Coffee Club was a short drive from his bungalow and open late enough to abide his schedule. Most of the tables that night were filled. People in their twenties. Like Josh.
“Didn’t show, huh? I get stiffed, that’s it. I swear.”
This was Bren, barista-cum-waitress, who appeared out of nowhere. Josh hunched across the table to cover his phone.
“This isn’t a date, not that it’s your business.”
“Whatever. Want another soy mocha cap?”
Josh still nursed his second. A soy mocha cappuccino at the Coffee Club cost six bucks.
“Just the check. Thank you.”
The “thank you” firm and pointed, saying, Leave me alone.
“You’re such a crab.”
“Thank you.”
“Crab.”
Bren flipped him off, returned to the coffee bar, and let Josh return to his waiting. Bren acted all flirty, but she didn’t really like him. She wanted to be on his show.
Josh was large, heavy, and felt like a giant seated at the annoying micro-table in the rear. He glanced at his phone and tapped out another text.
Is there a problem? Should we reschedule?
None of his earlier three texts had been answered. Their agreement had been to meet at half past midnight, this being after she called him, and told him she had something for him and wanted to see him, tonight, now. And now, two large soy mocha caps after he arrived, she was forty-six minutes late.
Josh hissed through his teeth, which was something he did when he was annoyed.
Obviously you got hung up or forgot or something. Whatever. I’m leaving. Hope you’re not dead in a morgue. Please let me know.
Josh stood to go as Skylar stepped through the door, slender and gorgeous, wearing a black moto jacket over a short black dress, black tights, and black ankle boots. Her hair was different. Burnished auburn, long on one side, short on the other, with a single blonde streak. Even with Josh being all the way in the back, their eyes locked, and she smiled, a crooked smile he found charming. Josh had never decided if the smile made her seem knowing or bored. Josh liked her. He was even impressed by her, but he was also put off. She was smart—maybe, in a way, brilliant—but she was dumb as a rock in other ways, and deeply flawed. She was one of the most self-destructive people he knew.
Josh said, “I was leaving.”
“Sit. Leave three minutes from now. I have something for you.”
“I was worried. And now I’m annoyed. You couldn’t text?”
Her eyes crinkled with lines almost too faint to see.
“I’m sorry. I’m a horrible person. Now sit.”
Josh made a big sigh to show his annoyance. But he sat.
“This is me, sitting. I’m still mad, but I’m sitting. Want a coffee?”
“Can’t. My car’s waiting, but I had to see you.”
Josh rolled his eyes.
“Tonight. Now, as I recall.”
She placed her phone on the table near his, and her hands over the phone.
“I have something special for you.”
“Lucky me. I wait for an hour, and I get thirty seconds with your royal highness?”
“You get this.”
She turned over a hand to reveal a silver flash drive. Under the table, she toed his shoe. Josh moved his foot, but she toed him again.
“You’re kicking me.”
“I’m kicking you because you’ll be impressed.”
She wiggled the flash drive back and forth—tick tock, tick tock—like a metronome.
Josh frowned.
“I don’t get it.”
“It’s a flash drive.”
“I know what it is. I can see it. And?”
“Ah. But you can’t see what it contains.”
“I was already annoyed. Now I’m really annoyed.”
“Take it. See what’s on it. You’ll have questions, which I will answer.”
Josh scowled at the flash drive.
“I hate games like this.”
“This isn’t a game.”
The crooked smile had vanished, and now she seemed watchful.
“Is it your new work?”
“No. Not me.”
“Then what?”
She nudged the flash drive toward him.