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doing another sweep. No lights or siren, just heading down the street, doing a regular patrol. As the cop car came into range, the driver of the SUV gave the oversized vehicle some gas, pulling away from the men’s shop.
    “He got spooked,” Lawrence said as the SUV rolled past us. “He might come around again, but I doubt it. Not tonight.”
    He turned his ignition key.
    “What are we doing?” I asked. I had an open coffee in my hand.
    Lawrence was already cranking the wheel, swinging across the street.
    “We’re leaving our stakeout?” I said. “What if it’s not them, and somebody else hits the store while we’re gone?”
    “Oh, that’s them,” Lawrence said, straightening out and hitting the gas so he could keep the Annihilator in sight. “As long as we know where he is, I don’t think we’ll miss seeing the store get hit.”
    I felt an adrenaline rush. My heart was starting to pound. We were in a chase. Suddenly my feature was getting a whole lot more interesting.
    “Where’s the lid for my coffee?” I said, glancing down at the console and down around my feet. “Fuck it,” I said, and tossed it out the open window. Who needed caffeine to stay awake now?
     
5
     
    THE DRIVER OF THE ANNIHILATOR must not have suspected anyone was following him, because he wasn’t booting it up Garvin Avenue. Lawrence Jones hung several car lengths back as we traveled along behind the big, hulking vehicle. The SUV’s brake lights came on and it slowed, turning right onto Belvenia.
    “He didn’t signal,” I said. “Can’t you get him for that? Then we don’t even have to worry about Brentwood’s.”
    Lawrence ignored me. He swung the wheel hard to the right as we turned the corner. The SUV drove up Belvenia, then took a left, again without signaling.
    “He’s going on to Wilson,” Lawrence said. “I’m hoping maybe he’s decided to call it a night, will head home, we can get some idea where he’s come from, who he is. You got your notepad there?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Can you make out that plate at all?”
    I squinted. It was impossible. “No.”
    The Annihilator hung another right, then a left two blocks on. “Oh dear oh dear oh dear,” Lawrence said softly. There was an almost cheerful lilt to his voice, but I had a feeling it was masking some concern.
    “What?”
    “I think he’s onto us. He’s just driving around randomly, watching to see whether we go where he goes. What we need is another car, two guys with phones, trade off following him so he doesn’t get so suspicious. Fuck.”
    “Maybe he hasn’t made us. Maybe he’s just killing time, waiting to go back to Brentwood’s.”
    As the Annihilator passed under some bright streetlights, Lawrence peered intently at the vehicle. “Trying to see past that tinting, get some idea how many people might be in there.”
    “Those windows are pretty dark,” I said. “You can’t see— Hold on, he’s pulling over to the curb.”
    The Annihilator slowed and eased over to the right.
    “I’m just gonna have to drive on by,” Lawrence said. “Don’t look over or do anything suspicious.”
    “What if I mooned them?”
    Lawrence guided the old Buick past the black SUV, which was now fully up against the curb, lights extinguished. It would have been nice to slow down and see how many people got out, but it was clear Lawrence didn’t want us drawing attention to ourselves that way.
    Once we were a couple of car lengths past it, I glanced back. No doors were opening, no one was getting out. The Annihilator’s lights came back on, and the truck slipped back into the lane behind us.
    I was still turned in my seat, taking in our new situation, when Lawrence barked at me, “Eyes front! Don’t look!”
    I shifted back, tried to get a glimpse of the SUV in the mirror on the passenger door.
    “This is not a good thing,” Lawrence said. “Not a good thing at all. I hate it when I get made. Absolutely fucking sloppy. You want to know what they’re