It was just getting light when they reached the warehouse. Suzanna had informed him apologetically in the car that she had gotten little useful information from the aborted attempt. She was strangely unfazed about the near-miss, Michael thought, but then, she was probably used to it. To be honest, he himself had found it more than a little stressful, forced to stand and do nothing but stare at a screen.
Fiona, who had been waiting for them to show up safely, left in her Saab for her apartment, and Susanna peeled off to get some sleep. But before they separated, she asked Michael if he would mind giving her a ride to a store later in the morning.
**
"This'll do fine," she said as he pulled into the parking lot of a Walgreen's. "I'll just be a couple of minutes," she promised as she climbed out of the car and entered the front door. Michael scanned the other cars and customers for signs of trouble, ever vigilant.
After five minutes, he got a little bored. After ten, he was concerned, and the feeling that something was off nagged at him. Just as he was about to get out and go in search of his client, he spotted her sprinting through the parking lot toward the car, two beefy-looking men not far behind. He gunned the engine and raced toward her, sliding to a stop so she could get in. Throwing the Charger into reverse, he accelerated backward until he reached the street at the end of the lot. He slammed the car into drive and laid a smoke trail toward the intersection.
"What the hell was that?!" he yelled at her as she tried to buckle her seatbelt.
"I took a detour to the bank and cashed out the account Barry set up," she informed him calmly. "I guess someone was waiting for me."
He shook his head in frustration. "And it never occurred to you that there might be someone waiting? You don't seem to understand, Suzanna: these people want you dead!"
She turned in her seat to look at him, her green eyes flat and distant. "Maybe it's you who doesn't understand, Michael," she said softly. "I'm dead already."